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GIFT   OF 
A*   F.    Morrison 


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maintained  ;   the  re. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  witin  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/alexanderpopeOpoperich 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
Introductory  Memoir      .       .       •       ix-Iii 

Preface       i 

Juvenile  Poems 5 

Pastorals 5 

A  Discourse  on  Pastoral  Poetry    .        ,      6 

Spring lo 

Summer ,        ,     14 

Autumn 17 

Winter 20 

Messiah .24 

Windsor  Forest 28 

Odes .'       .        .40 

'    Ode  for  Music  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day       .    40 

Two  Chorus's  to  the  Tragedy  of  Brutus    44 

^  Ode  on  Solitude      .         .         .         .         .46 

^    The  Dying  Christian  to  his  Soul   .        .    47 

Mn^Essay  on  Criticism 48 

MS^The  Eapeof.t>ip  T.nrW       .  .    7? 

Ele^  to  the  Memory  of  an  Unfortunate 

Lady 93 

Prologue  to  Mr.  Addison's  Tragedy  of 

Cato 95 

Epilogue  to  Mr.  Rowe's  Jane  Shore         .    97 
Translations  and  Imitations  .        .        .99 

Sappho  to  Phaon 99 

^,Eloisa  to  Abelard 105 

^  The  Temple  of  Fame         .        .        .        •  "3 

January  and  May 129 

The  Wife  of  Bath 146 

The  First  Book  of  Statins  his  lliebais     .  155 
The  Fable  of  Dryope  ....  173 

Vertumnus  and  Pomona    ....  176 
Imitations  of  English  Poets       .        .        .  179 

Chaucer 179 

Spenser  (The  Alley)       ....  180 

Waller 182 

(Of  a  Lady  singing  to  her  Lute)        .  182 
(On  a  Fan  of  the  Author's  Design)  .  182 

Cowley 182 

(The  Garden) 182 

(Weeping) 183 

Earl  of  Rochester  (On  Silence)      .        .  184 

Earl  of  Dorset 186 

(Artemisia) 186 

(Phryne)      ......  186 

Dr.  Swift  (The  Happy  Life  of  a  Country 

Parson) 187 

Moral  Essays 188 

^^  Essay  on  Man 192 

"^         Epistle  1 194 

Epistle  II 202 

Epistle  III 210 

Epistle  IV 219 

The  Universal  Prayer        ....  230 
Moral  Essays  in  Four  Epistles  to  several 

Persons) 232 

Epistle  I.   (to  Lord  Cobham) :    of  the 

Knowledge  and  Characters  of  Men    .  232 
Epistle  II.  (to  a  Lady)  :  of  the  Charac- 
ters of  Women 240 

Epistle  III.  (to  Lord  Bathurst) :  of  the 
Use  of  Riches 248 


Moral  Essays.  Page 

Epistle  IV.  (to  the  Earl  of  Burlington) : 

of  the  Use  of  Riches    ....  262 
Epistle  V.  (to  Mr.  Addison.   Occasioned 
by  his  Dialogues  on  Medals)      .        .  269 

Satires 273 

Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  being  the  Pro- 
logue to  the  Satires  .        .        .  274  1 
Satires  and  Epistles  of  Horace  Imitated  .  289 
The  First  Satire  of  the  Second  Book     .  291 
The  Second  Satire  of  the  Second  Book .  296 
The  First  Epistle  of  the  First  Book       .  301 
The  Sixth  Epistle  of  the  First  Book       .  306 
The  First  Epistle  of  the  Second  Book   .  309 
The  Second  Epistle  of  the  Second  Book  323 
Satires  of  Dr.  Donne  versified  .        .        .  331 

Satire  II 332 

Satire  IV.        ...        .        .        .  335 

^  Epilogue  to  the  Satires  in  Two  Dialogues  342 

Dialogue  I 342 

Dialogue  II 347 

The  Dunciad 356 

Preface  (1727) 360 


C^ 


Advertisement  (1729)  ....  362 
A  Letter  to  the  Publisher  ....  363 
Advertisement  (1742)  ....  366 
Advertisement  (1743)  ....  367 
Advertisement  (Printed  in  the  Journals, 

1730) 367 

Martinus  Scriblerus  of  the  Poem      .        .  368 

By  Authority 370 

The  Dunciad:  Book  1 370 

Book  II 384 

Book  III 400 

Book  IV 413 

Imitations 435 

By  the  Author:  a  Declaration  .  .  .  441 
A  List  of  Books,  Papers,  and  Verses,  &c.  442 
Index  of  Persons  celebrated  in  this  Poem  444 
Index  of  matters  contained  in  this  Poem 

and  Notes 445 

Miscellaneous  Pieces  in  Verse     .        .  451 
Imitations  of  Horace  ....  451 

Book  I.  Epistle  VII 451 

Book  II.  Satire  VI 453 

Book  IV.  Ode  1 458 

Part  of  the  Ninth  Ode  of  the  Fourth  Book  459 

Epistles 460 

To  Robert  Earl  of  Oxford      .        .         .460 

To  James  Craggs,  Esq 461 

To  Mr.  Jervas,  with  Mr.  Dryden's  Trans- 
lation of  Fresnoy's  Art  of  Painting .  462 
To   Miss   Blount,  with   the   Works  of 
Voiture        .        .        .        .        .        .  464 

To  the  Same,  on  her  leaving  the  Town 
after  the  Coronation    .         .         .         .  466 

On   receiving  from  the   Right  Hon.  the 
Lady  Frances  Shirley  a  Standish  and 

two  Pens 467 

Epitaphs 469 

I.  On  Charles  Earl  of  Dorset         .        .  469 

II.  On  Sir  William  Trumbal         .         .  470 

III.  On  the  Hon.  Simon  Harcourt        .  47a 


vU 


viii 


CONTENTS. 


Epitaphs.  Page 

IV.  On  James  Craggs,  Esq.      ,        .        .471 

V.  Intended  for  Mr.  Rowe        .        ,        .  471 

VI.  On  Mrs.  Corbet 472 

VII.  On    the    Monument    of   the    Hon. 

Robert    Digby    and  of   his  Sister 
Mary 472 

VIII.  On  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  .        .        .473 

IX.  On  General  Henry  Withers       .         .  473 

X.  On  Mr.  Elijah  Fenton  .        .        .  474 

XI.  On  Mr.  Gay 474 

XII.  Intended  for  Sir  Isaac  Newton         .  475 
Xni,  On  Dr.  Francis  Atterbury      .        .  475 

XIV.  On  Edmund  D.  of  Buckingham      .  476 

XV.  For  one  who  would  not  be  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey    ....  476 

Another,  on  the  same        .        *        .        .  476 

Miscellaneous 477 

A  Paraphrase  on  Thomas  ^  Kempis  .  .  477 
To  the  Author  of  a  Poem  entitled  Successio  478 

Argus  .        .        . 479 

Imitation  of  Martial 479 

Occasioned  by  some  Verses  of  His  Grace 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham         .        ,        .  480 

On  Mrs.  Tofts 480 

Epigram  on  the  Feuds  about  Handel  and 

Bononcini 480 

Epigram  (You  beat  your  pate,  &c.)  «  .  480 
Epitaph  (Well,  then,  poor  G— ,  &c.)  .  480 

Epitaph  (Here  Francis  C—  lies,  &c.)  .  481 
The  Balance  of  Europe  ....  481 
To  a  Lady  with  '  The  Temple  of  Fame '  .  481 
Impromptu  to  Lady  Winchilsea  .        .  481 

Epigram  on  the  Toasts  of  the  Kit- Cat  Club  482 
A  Dialogue  (Pope  and  Craggs)  .         .        .  482 
On   Drawings  of  the   Statues  of  Apollo, 
Venus,  and  Hercules,  made  by  Sir  G. 

Kneller 482 

Prologue  to  the  *  Three  Hours  after  Mar- 
riage*         482 

Prologue  designed  for  Mr.  D'Urfey's  last 

Play 484 

A  Prologue  by  Mr.  Pope  to  a  Play  for  Mr. 

Dennis's  Benefit  .....  484 
Macer :  a  Character    .....  485 

Umbra 486 

To  Mr.  John  Moore,  Author  of  the  Cele- 
brated Worm-Powder       ....  487 

Sandys'  Ghost 488 

The  Translator 490 

The  Three  Gentle  Shepherds  .  .  .490 
Lines  written  in  Windsor  Forest  .  .  491 
To  Mrs.  M.  B.  on  her  Birth-Day  .  .  491 
The  Challenge,  a  Court  Ballad  .  .  .492 
Answer  to  a  Question  of  Mrs.  Howe  .  .  494 
Song,  by  a  Person  of  Quality  .  .  .  494 
On  a  certain  Lady  at  Court  .  .  .  495 
A  Farewell  to  London  ....  496 
The  Basset-Table,  an  Eclogue  .  .  .497 
■  To  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  .  .  501 
Extemporaneous  Lines,  on  the  Picture  of 

Lady  M.  W.  Montagu  ....  502 
Imitation  of  TibuUus  .....  502 
Epitaphs    on   John    Hughes    and    Sarah 

Drew 502 

On   the  Countess  of  Burlington   cutting 
Paper        .        .         .        .        .        .        .503 

On  a  Picture  of  Queen  Caroline         •        .  504 


Miscellaneous.  Page 

The  Looking-Glass:  on  Mrs.  Pulteney    .  504 

On  certain  Ladies 504 

Celia 504 

Epigram,  engraved  on  the  Collar  of  a  Dog 

which  I  gave  to  H.R.H.  .  ,  .  505 
Lines  sung  by  Durastanti  .        .         ,  505 

On  his  Grotto  at  Twickenham  .         .         .  505 

Verses  to  Mr.  C 506 

To  Mr.  Gay,  who  had  congratulated  Mr. 
Pope  on  finishing  his  House  and  Gar- 
dens  506 

Upon  the  Duke  of  Marlborough's  House 
at  Woodstock ......  507 

On  Beaufort  House  Gate  at  Chiswick       .  507 
Lines  to  Lord  Bathurst      ....  508 

Inscription  on  a  Punch-Bowl     .         .        .  508 
Verbatim  from  Boileau      ....  508 

Epigram  (My  Lord  complains,  &c.)         .  509 
Epigram  (Yes,  'tis  the  time,  &c.)    .        .  509 
Occasioned  by   reading    the   Travels  of 
Captain  Lemuel  Gulliver        .         .         .  509 

I.  To  Quinbus  Flestrin ,  the  Man-Moun- 
tain       510 

II.  The  Lamentation  of  Glumdalclitch 

for  the  Loss  of  Grildrig      ,         .         .  510 

III.  To  Mr.  Lemuel  Gulliver  from  the 
Houyhnhnms      .....  513 

IV.  Mary  Gulliver  to  Captain  Lemuel 
Gulliver 513 

Lines  on  Swift's  Ancestors  .  .  .  516 
From  the  Grub-street  Journal   .         .         .  516 

I.  Epigram :  occasioned  by  seeing  some 
Sheets  of  Bentley's  Edition  of  Milton's 
Paradise  Lost    .....  516 

II.  Epigram  (Should  D — s  print,  &c.)    516 

III.  Mr.  J.  M.  S— e  catechised  on  his 
one  Epistle  to  Mr.  Pope     .        .         .517 

IV.  Epigram:  on  Mr.  M— re's  going  to 
law  with  Gilliver         ....  517 

V.  Epigram  (A  Gold  Watch  found,  &c.)  517 

VI.  Epitaph  (Here  lies  what  had  no 
Birth,  &c.) 517 

VII.  A  Question  by  Anonymous  .        .  518 

VIII.  Epigram  (Great  G— ,  &c.)  .  518 

IX.  Epigram  (Behold!  ambitious  of  the 
British  Bays,  &c.)       .         .         .         .518 

On  seeing  the  Ladies  at  Crux-Easton  walk 

in  the  Woods  by  the  Grotto  .  .  .  518 
Inscription  on  a  Grotto,  the  Work  of  Nine 

Ladies 518 

Verses  left  by  Mr.  Pope,  on  his  lying  in 

Rochester's  Bed  at  Adderbury  .  .  519 
To  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Oxford  .  519 
Translation  of  a  Prayer  of  Brutus  .  .  520 
Lines    written    in    Evelyn's     Book    on 

Coins .  520 

To  Mr.  Thomas  Southern,  on  his  Birth- 
Day        520 

Bishop  Hough 521 

Prayer  of  St.  Francis  Xavier    .        .        .521 
Appendix  I.    1740:  a  Poem  ....  523 

II.  Sylvia:  a  Fragment       .        .  526 

III.  The  Rape  of  the  Lock:  Re- 
print of  First  Edition        .         .  527 

IV.  The    Dunciad:    Reprint    of 
First  Edition      ....  537 

Index  to  First  Lines 571 


INTRODUCTORY   MEMOIR. 


VERY  wonderful  is  the  vitality  of  names;  and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
books  and  essays  continue  to  this  day  to  make  their  appearance,  in  which 
the  period  of  our  literary  history  coinciding  with  the  literary  life  of  Pope  is  spoken 
of  as  our  Augustan  age.  Were  this  transfer  of  title  intended  to  imply  the  existence 
during  the  period  in  question  of  any  royal  patronage  of  letters  such  as  the  first  of 
the  legitimate  Caesars  was  too  prudent  absolutely  to  neglect,  it  would  condemn 
itself  at  once.  The  English  Augustans  were  not  warmed  by  the  favour  of  any 
English  Augustus.  William  the  Deliverer,  in  whose  reign  they  had  grown  up, 
had  been  without  stomach  for  the  literature  of  a  nation  with  whose  tastes  and 
habits  he  had  never  made  it  part  of  his  political  program  to  sympathise.  Queen 
Anne's  very  feeble  light  of  personal  judgment  was  easily  kept  under  by  the  resolute 
will  of  her  favourites,  or  flickered  timidly  under  cover  of  the  narrowest  orthodoxy. 
Of  the  first  two  Georges  the  former,  indifferent  to  an  unpopularity  which  never 
seemed  to  endanger  his  tenure  of  the  throne,  neither  possessed  an  ordinary  mas- 
tery of  the  English  tongue  nor  manifested  even  a  transient  desire  to  acquire  it. 
His  successor  had  no  objection  to  be  considered,  in  virtue  of  his  mistress  rather 
than  his  wife,  the  patron  of  the  literary  adherents  of  a  political  party,  until,  on 
mounting  the  throne,  he  blandly  disappointed  the  hopes  of  that  party  itself.  The 
epoch  of  our  Augustans  had  all  but  closed,  when  the  death  of  Frederick,  Prince 
of  Wales,  put  an  absolute  end  to  the  nominal  hopes  in  the  advent  of  a  golden  age 
for  the  liberal  arts,  by  averting  the  accession  of  a  Patriot  King. 

Neither  was  the  defect  of  royal  patronage  supplied  by  any  genuine  Maecenas 
from  among  the  great  ones  of  the  realm.  The  traditions  in  this  respect  of  the 
Stuart  period  —  traditions  doubtless  exaggerated  in  the  age  of  Pope,  yet  not  wholly 
baseless  —  had  barely  survived  the  expulsion  of  the  last  Stuart  King.  Of  King 
WilHam's  Batavian  comrades,  none  had  sought  to  grace  their  newly-acquired 
dignities  and  incomes  by  fostering  the  efforts  of  genius  in  the  country  which  they 
had  consented  to  adopt.   Among  the  chief  English-born  noblemen  and  gentlemen 


t  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR, 

of  this  reign  those  of  the  older  generation  were  too  intently  engaged  in  picking 
their  path  through  events  and  eventualities  to  find  time  for  dallying  with  the 
delights  of  literature  and  art.  One  only  of  their  number,  the  sage  whom  all  parties- 
honoured  because  he  so  circumspectly  abstained  from  being  of  vital  service  to  any, 
Sir  William  Temple,  alone  had  a  thought  for  literature,  and  horticulture,  and  other 
libera}  amusements.  With  Queen  Anne's  accession  commenced  among  the  leaders 
of  political  and  social  Hfdiji:perif)d  of  eager  speculation  as  to  the  contingencies 
which  might  supervene  on  her  decease.  Parties  within  parties,  and  factions  within 
faGti^rls,tbaJtk4  «bver,t}i^ir  liyij?!^  sovereign  because  it  seemed  that  everything  must 
depend  upon  tfie  liands'into  which'the  power  should  fall  when  she  should  lie  dead. 
In  a  time  of  national  abasement  foreign  intellectual  fashions  and  the  patronage  of 
such  fashions  may  prevail;  and  such  had  been  actually  the  case  in  the  reigns  of  both 
the  Charles's.  In  a  time  of  national  elevation  a  national  literature  will  find  its 
patrons;  nor  had  such  been  wanting  to  our  EHzabethans,  nor  were  they  (though  in 
a  different  fashion)  to  fail  English  writers  in  subsequent  times.  But  amidst  the 
cynically  selfish  party-warfare  which  degraded  our  political  life  in  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne,  the  value  of  literature  was  depreciated  in  accordance  with  the  general  decay 
of  national  feeling.  For  it  was  an  age  in  which  all  things  were  viewed  in  their  rela- 
tion to  the  main  issue  upon  which  men's  thoughts  were  fixed.  Church  and  crown, 
freedom  of  action  and  of  speech,  the  rights  of  the  citizen  at  home  and  the  glories 
of  the  nation  abroad,  were  freely  and  fiercely  tossed  about  in  the  caldron  where 
the  political  future  was  believed  to  be  brewing.  Where  the  national  honour  was 
hardly  taken  into  account  as  a  secondary  consideration,  and  the  national  wishes  so 
little  consulted  that  in  the  eyes  of  history  they  to  this  day  frequently  remain  obscure, 
a  national  literature  could  obviously  have  no  intrinsic  cause  for  existence  in  the  eyes 
of  either  Tories  or  of  Whigs.  It  is  for  the  parties  that  the  nation  and  its  feelings 
have  been  created;  its  traditions,  its  sympathies  are  so  many  adventitious  aids, 
its  foremost  men  so  many  candidates  for  partisan  employment.  The  Whigs  will 
crown  Addison  the  laureate  of  their  party;  but  not  till  he  has  sung  the  glories 
of  its  acknowledged  hero.  Bolingbroke,  who  liked  to  compare  himself  to  Alci- 
biades,  and  Oxford,  in  whom  the  oblique  vision  of  some  party  adulator  discerned 
a  Pericles  to  match,  repaid  their  literary  henchmen  in  the  coin  dearest  to  the  frugal 
souls  of  literary  men,  and  cheapest  to  the  Condescending  great,  a  social  familiarity 
at  times  facihtated  by  the  bottle.  Their  literary  assailants  they  were  eager  to 
imprison  and  pillory  and  utterly  extinguish.  Pegasus  was  always  welcome  if  he 
would  run  in  harness;  otherwise  away  with  him  to  the  pound.  Queen  Anne's 
reign  came  to  an  end;  and  under  the  administration  which  supervened,  a  yet 
more,  practical  method  of  reducing  literature  to  her  level  was  consistently  adopted. 
No  minister  has  probably  ever  expended  so  large  a  sum  upon  the  hire  of  pens  as 
Sir  Robert  Walpole.  The  consent  of  contemporaries  and  posterity  stigmatises  him 
as  the  poet's  foe.  The  warmth  of  his  patronage  elicited  the  grubs  from  the  soil, 
and  bred  dunces  faster  than  Swift  and  Pope  could  destroy  them. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  ad 

Still,  if  the  world  of  politics  pursued  its  own  ends,  the  world  of  society,  never 
wholly  absorbed  in  political  life,  might  have  essayed  to  offer  its  pleasing  aid.  It  is 
true  fhat  in  England,  happily  perhaps  for  our  political  development,  the  social  life 
of  the  upper  classes  has  generally  found  its  centre  in  the  political  life  of  their  times. 
Even  after  the  Restoration  society  had  only  exaggerated,  not  distorted,  the  poHtical 
tendencies  of  the  age.  Fashion  in  England  has  always  driven  ideas  and  notions  to 
extremes;  it  has  rarely  or  never  invented  them  for  itself.  Thus,  at  the  close  of  the 
Protectorate,  society  had  anticipated  the  restoration  of  the  Stuarts  by  taking  the 
drama  into  favour  once  more.  The  stage  seemed  to  feed  the  imagination  by  a 
tragedy  chiefly  of  rant  and  fustian,  national  in  its  grossness  if  foreign  in  its  form; 
while  for  an  enforced  period  of  spiritual  austerity  society  found  its  revenge  in.  a 
comedy  of  something  more  than  flesh  and  blood.  But  every  debauch  has  its  limit; 
and  the  generation  amidst  which  Pope  grew  up  was  growing  weary  of  the  boisterous 
sensuality  as  well  as  of  the  furious  bombast  which  had  intoxicated  its  predecessors. 
Dryden  had  sickened  over  the  abominations  to  which  he  had  prostituted  his  Muse; 
and  though  Congreve  still  remained  an  authority  on  account  of  the  wit  with  which 
he  had  reheved  the  sameness  of  his  dramatic  fare,  the  ruder,  but  equally  creative, 
Wycherley  was  fain  to  make  a  desperate  attempt  to  eke  out  his  withering  wreath 
by  a  leaf  or  two  of  lyric  laurels.  Society  had  ceased  to  care  for  literature  other 
than  dramatic,  unless  recommended  by  an  authority  other  than  its  own ;  and 
where  was  it  to  seek  for  such  an  authority  except  in  the  world  of  politics? 

For  our  so-called  Augustan  age  might  indeed  in  one  sense  have  asserted  its 
claim  to  the  title  with  which  it  was  credited,  had  the  Varros  and  Pollios  revived  a 
learning  whence  literature  might  have  drawn  the  nourishing  sap  of  a  new  and  more 
luxuriant  development.  Our  ancient  seats  of  learning  were  identified  with  the 
national  church;  and  it  was  in  them  that  she  must  count  at  once  her  chief  orna- 
ments and  her  surest  supports.  But  they  had  in  truth  suffered  with  her.  In  relig- 
ious matters,  the  great  Revolutionary  struggle  had  come  to  represent  itself  to  the 
inheritors  of  its  achievements  under  the  aspect  of  its  extremes.  Oxford  the  descend- 
ant of  a  Presbyterian,  Bolingbroke  the  scion  of  a  Puritan  family,  availed  themselves 
of  the  reaction  and  cold-bloodedly  stood  forward  as  the  instigators  of  a  High-Church 
mob.  The  Church  had  saved  its  connexion  with  the  state  by  v/hat  was,  unjustly  in 
many  cases  but  not  unnaturally  upon  the  whole,  regarded  as  a  compromise  with 
opinions  formerly  elevated  to  the  place  of  principles.  The  result  was  inevitable, 
that  the  moral  influence  of  the  clergy  had  fallen  from  its  original  height.  The 
Universities  throughout  the  first  half  of  the  century  swarmed  with  the  worst  class  of 
political  malcontents,  —  those  who  acquiesce  and  remain  disloyal;  for  few  priests 
and  no  prelates  followed  Atterbury  into  exile.  Among  the  educated  classes,  indiffer- 
ence, veiled  under  the  thin  disguise  of  a  philosophy  hardly  rising  above  the  super- 
ficial deductions  of  common  sense,  had  become  the  prevailing  note  in  views  of 
religion;  and  in  morality,  a  code  found  ready  acceptance  which  accommodated  itself 
without  difficulty  even  to  slippery  shoulders.     This  general  tone  of  feeling  com- 


xii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

municated  itself  even  to  members  of  a  creed  protected  as  it  were  by  the  consolidafc 

ing  influences  of  continued  persecution;  and  a  sense  of  decency  sufficed  to  recom- 
mend an  outward  attitude  dependent  on  no  deep-seated  convictions  of  heart  and 
mind.  The  discipline  of  the  Universities  was  still  struggling  among  the  folds  of 
an  apparently  immortal  scholasticism.  The  new  Oxford  scholarship  was  that  of 
dilettanti;  and  Cambridge  was  only  gradually  reconstructing  her  system  of  teach- 
ing on  the  basis  of  the  writings  of  Locke,  and  under  the  surviving  influence  of  the 
devoted  life  of  her  unforgotten  Barrow.  Yet  in  those  branches  of  study  which 
most  closely  connect  themselves  with  the  progress  of  literature,  though  Bentley 
had  taken  the  field,  his  services  were  hardly  appreciated  by  his  own  generation. 
Free  translation,  the  enemy  of  accurate  scholarship,  was  adapting  the  classics  to 
modern  tastes  rather  than  raising  the  latter  to  an  earnest  contemplation  of  the 
ancient  models.  And  a  critical  knowledge,  or  even  a  faithful  study  of  the  national 
literature,  had  been  scarcely  begun  by  one  or  two  enthusiasts;  Shakspeare,  muti- 
lated on  the  stage,  still  awaited  his  first  competent  editor.  Criticism,  insisting 
upon  rules  the  meaning  of  which  it  blindly  ignored,  lost  itself  in  empty  dogmatism, 
or  strayed  into  the  exchange  of  sheer  personalities.  The  true  critic  and  the  true 
student  were  rare  among  the  children  of  our  Augustan  age. 

For  in  this  age  literature  is  in  the  main  regarded  under  two  aspects  —  as  a 
political  instrument  and  as  an  intellectual  stimulant.  The  literary  hero  of  these 
times  will  therefore  not  be  a  mind  intent  upon  pondering  and  revealing  the  depths 
of  human  nature;  nor  a  poet  who  from  out  of  the  turmoil  of  political  conflicts  or 
social  distractions  betakes  himself  into  the  secrecy  of  lyrical  composition;  not  even 
the  singer  who  recounts  or  inspires  to  great  national  actions.  He  will  rather  be 
the  writer  whose  point  pierces  just  as  deeply  as  suffices  for  the  insight  which  society 
desires  to  enjoy  into  the  characters  of  men  and  women,  and  who  never  forgets  the 
special  in  the  general.  He  will  be,  in  form,  an  eclectic  of  eclectics,  sworn  to  fidelity 
to  no  school,  and  founding  none,  but  like  the  society  with  which  he  accords,  correct 
within  the  limits  of  a  self-formed  taste.  From  ancients  and  moderns,  from  French 
and  Italian  and  our  own  interesting  literature,  he  will  circumspectly  choose  the  most 
attractive  models  to  adorn  the  grotto  in  which  he  receives  the  visits  of  his  Muse. 
He  will  write  to  please,  but  to  please  a  difficult  public.  He  will  therefore  be  master 
of  that  nicely  chosen  kind  of  allusions  which  is  transparent  to  the  educated  intelli- 
gence; avoiding  illustrations  either  commonplace  or  far-fetched,  sparing  no  pains  to 
sustain  the  attention  which  he  arouses,  and  to  make  sure  of  the  effect  which  it  is  his 
purpose  to  create.  Whether  his  theme  be  love  or  hate,  he  will  not  forget  the  hearers 
for  whose  benefit  he  discourses  upon  it;  and  when  he  is  most  in  earnest,  he  will  be 
least  liable  to  forget  the  eyes  which  are  watching  his  conduct  of  the  enterprise. 

Controversy  is  the  very  breath  in  the  nostrils  of  such  a  writer  and  such  an  age. 
Society  must  be  in  a  state  of  suspense,  of  secret  intrigues,  of  envy  and  malice 
beneath  and  an  artificial  politeness  on  the  surface,  if  it  is  thoroughly  to  relish  a 
literature  combative  in  its  most  reflexive  moments,  and  polished  in  the  very  crisis  of 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  xiii 

the  combat.  The  age  was  a  great  age  of  clubs;  of  associations,  large  or  small,  of 
men  bound  together  by  the  spirit  of  common  antagonism  or  hatred  towards  this  or 
that  political  or  literary  counter-coterie.  Just  as  the  world  of  politics  in  this  age 
was  limited  to  a  very  small  numerical  proportion  of  the  nation  whose  affairs  it 
swayed,  so  the  world  of  literature,  extremely  confined  in  comparison  to  that  of  only 
a  generation  or  two  later,  was  clearly  and  definitely  marked  off  into  the  fractions 
which  composed  it.  Political  and  literary  clubs  were  alike  characterised  by  a  sin- 
gle-mindedness  of  antipathies  which  the  lower  orders  were  not  slow  to  burlesque 
in  the  confraternities  of  the  tap-room. ^  Kit-Cat  and  Calves-head,  Beefsteak  and 
October,  may  have  occasionally  drowned  even  their  party-feelings  in  the  oblivion 
ensured  by  an  unflinching  devotion  to  the  club-rules.  But  the  Brothers'  Club 
founded  by  Bolingbroke  in  1711  was  a  kind  of  backstairs  Cabinet  of  the  Tory 
party;  while  the  literaoLghampions  of  the  latteT (including  the  professedly  neutral 
Pope)  met  in  the  Scribblerus  Club  to  pulverise  in  a  common  mortar  the  small  fry 
of  their  literary  adversaries.  At  all  these  clubs  (and  the  *  Brothers '  occasionally 
admitted  their  '  Sisters ')  a  rivalry  in  abuse  was  one  of  the  unwritten  laws  of  the 
fraternity.2 

Our  Augustan  age  was  not  the  most  immoral  which  court  and  society  in 
England  have  known  (at  least  it  may  be  said  that  the  profligacy  of  the  Restora- 
tion period,  arrested  by  the  reaction  under  William  III.,  was  not  to  revive  in  its 
fulness  till  after  the  death  of  Queen  Anne)  ;  but  it  was  assuredly  the  most  scandal- 
ous. And  its  peculiarity  was  this,  that  while  evil  speaking,  even  in  the  age  of  the 
Regency,  was  as  a  rule  left  as  an  unenvied  privilege  to  the  lowest  hangers-on  of 
literature,  or  to  those  members  of  society  whom  age  and  sex  or  constitutional 
vacuity  include  in  a  licensed  category,  the  practice  was  assiduously  cultivated  by 
the  leaders  in  society  and  literature  of  our  Augustan  age.  Horace  Walpole  lived 
almost  a  generation  too  late.  Far  happier  in  this  respect  was  the  lot  of  one  with 
whom  an  elective  affinity  at  all  events  connected  him,  of  Lord  Hervey,  who  found 
a  fellow-railer  in  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu,  and  but  too  willing  an  adversary 
in  Pope.  It  was  in  literature  as  in  pohtics.  If  a  man  avowed  himself,  or  caused 
himself  to  be  supposed,  the  opponent  of  another,  or  of  his  coterie,  or  the  sup- 
porter of  a  coterie  opposed  to  the  latter,  any  means  of  bringing  his  face  to  the 
grindstone  was  accounted  within  the  limits  of  legitimate  warfare.  To  blacken  his 
character,  to  blast  his  reputation,  to  defile  his  grandfather's  grave,  all  these  things 
followed  as  a  matter  of  course.  An  aspersion  of  venom  was  held  a  justifiable 
addition  to  the  point  of  the  foil;  and  the  slightest  sign  of  hostility,  an  unfavour- 
able criticism,  a  line  in  a  farce,  was  pursued  with  Corsican  persistency  of  ven- 
geance. How  unnatural  in  the  eyes  of  a  more  self-possessed  posterity  seems  this 
age :  when  great  poets  made  war  upon  women,  when  no  enemy  was  deemed  too 

1  [The  so-called  mug-houses  were  frequented  ^  This  subject  is  treated  with  his  usual  inci- 

by  Whig  Societies  who  in  1715  and  1716  came  to  siveness  by  M.  Ch.  de  R^musat  in  his  admir* 

frequent  blows  with  Tory  mobs.     See  Wright's  able  essay  on  Bolingbroke. 
Carte.  Hist,  of  the  Georges^  chap,  i.] 


xiv  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

weak  to  be  worthy  of  the  most  practised  steel.  What  a  lack  of  dignity  as  well  as 
of  good  sense,  corresponding  to  that  which  a  House  of  Commons  endeavoured  to 
hunt  down  a  pulpit  Xanthippe,  and  a  Secretary  of  State  entered  upon  a  crusade 
against  the  pygmies  of  the  press.  Statesman  and  man  of  letters  —  there  was  little 
as  to  true  generosity  of  spirit  to  choose  between  the  two.^  The  comparative  small- 
ness  of  the  literary  world  may  help  to  account  for  the  importance  with  which  its 
members  invested  even  their  most  trivial  disputes.  But  few  escaped  the  taint  of 
their  age,  and  nothing  in  the  life  of  Addison  strikes  his  contemporaries  as  so  remark- 
able, as  the  fact  that  he  forgives  his  enemies  before  composing  himself  for  an  ex- 
emplary death.  The  commonest  courtesies  of  literary  life  which  even  Bavius  and 
Mavius  would  not  have  permitted  themselves  to  neglect,  are  defiantly  violated  by 
our  Augustans.  Anonymity,  far  from  serving  as  a  cover  against  nominal  recrimi- 
nations, is  in  truth  resorted  to  only  as  an  evasion  of  an  uncertain  law;  and  coward- 
ice too  frequently  skulks  beljind  a  lampoon,  as  a  literary  weapon  no  more  fitting 
than  the  bludgeons  hired  by  Rochester  for  his  Rose  Alley  ambuscade.  How  im- 
perfectly had  Dryden's  successors  learnt  to  imitate  the  example  of  one  who  truth- 
fully declared  that  '  he  had  seldom  answered  any  scurrilous  lampoon,  and,'  though 
*  naturally  vindictive,  had  suffered  in  silence,  and  possessed  his  soul  in  quiet.' 

That  a  healthy  current  of  life  was  still  flowing  in  the  nation's  veins,  in  despite  of 
the  vices  which  seemed  to  pervade  society,  is  of  course  a  fact  to  which  our  literature 
alone  bears  sufficient  testimony.  From  out  of  the  sphere  of  the  middle  classes  a 
reaction  had  been  preparing  itself.  Its  direction  was  towards  that  close  obedience 
to  the  divine  law  as  a  practical,  if  possible  a  literal,  fingerpost  in  all  relations  of  life 
which  is  in  accordance  with  the  Puritan  spirit  of  the  nation,  and  which  was  in  due 
time  to  force  itself  upon  the  classes  long  in  their  own  opinion  practically  emanci- 
pated from  its  control.  De  Foe  and  his  lineal  literary  descendants,  the  essayists 
and  novelists,  succeeded  in  saving  its  national  character  to  our  literature.  But  an 
examination  of  their  influence  and  the  gradual  progress  of  its  operation  would  be 
out  of  place  here.  As  the  age  appears  to  us  in  the  mirror  of  the  literature  which 
professedly  and  unhesitatingly  attached  itself  to  the  world  of  politics,  fashion  and 
learning,  it  is  an  unnatural  age,  because  licentious  in  every  direction  except  that 
of  the  form  which  by  its  own  authority  it  has  chosen  as  the  exponent  of  its  very 
spirit  and  essence.  All  the  emotions  of  the  Augustans,  except  their  hatreds,  seem 
shallow  and  transitory,  and  most  of  all  so  in  their  literary  expression.  Men  who 
estimate  their  neighbours  according  to  a  selfish  standard,  necessarily  adjust  to  it 
tlieir  measures  of  praise  as  well  as  of  blame.  Queen  Anne,  whose  childish  depen- 
dence upon  others  was  no  secret  even  to  herself,  is  addressed  in  strains  of  uncom- 

1  Bolingbroke,  as  Secretary  of  State,  writes  to  year:  'One  Boyer,  a  French  dog,  has  abused 
the  Queen  in  1711 :  *  I  have  discovered  the  author  me  in  a  pamphlet,  and  I  have  got  him  up  in  a 
of  another  scandalous  libel,  who  will  be  in  cus-  messenger's  hands;  the  Secretary  promises  me 
tody  this  afternoon;  he  will  make  the  13th  I  to  swinge  him.  I  must  make  that  rogue  an  ex- 
have  seized,  and  the  15th  I  have  found  out.*  ample  for  warning  to  others.'  See  Macknight's 
Swift  writes  in  his  Journal  to  Stella  of  the  same  Life  of  Boliitgbroke. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  xv 

promising  panegyric  before  which  even  the  tributes  of  the  Cavaliers  to  the  Rose 
of  Bohemia  grow  pale.  Even  Prior  is  recklessly  dull  when  he  begins  to  flatter  ^ 
ex  officio ;  even  Young's  unctuous  religiosity  adapts  itself  to  the  exigencies  of  a 
courtly  veneration.2  Nor  was  it  only  loyalty  which  was  thus  galvanised  into  a 
spasmodic  existence.  Dryden  had  scattered  panegyrics  with  the  profuse  vigour 
belonging  to  his  genial  abandon;  his  successors  swung  their  censers  in  honour  of 
their  minor  divinities  with  the  measured  oscillations  of  drilled  acolytes;  and  even 
a  Wharton  had  his  poet-in-ordinary.  The  amatory  verse  of  the  age  is  perhaps  the 
most  unnatural  that  has  ever  been  written;  instead  of  exhausting  itself  on  even 
ruby  lips  and  dainty  feet,  it  hovers  with  inquisitive  placidity  round  ladies'  fans  or 
lapdogs  or  paper-knives.  The  ladies  themselves  could  hardly  be  natural  without 
falling  into  downright  cynicism;  and  passed  an  existence  as  unreal  as  their  out- 
ward selves,  made  up  as  they  were  of  powders  and  patches,  and  fenced  in  with 
hurdles  of  whalebone.  The  real  epos  of  society  under  Queen  Anne,  though 
designed  as  a  burlesque,  is  Pope's  Rape  of  the  Lock.  Under  fhe  first  two  Georges 
the  coating  of  varnish  grew  thinner  and  thinner;  but  the  material  remained 
equally  rotten  beneath. 

Such  as  these  were,  if  I  rightly  estimate  the  characteristics  of  the  age  in  so  far 
as  he  was  brought  into  contact  with  it,  the  conditions  under  which  Pope  entered 
upon  and  led  his  literary  life.  Its  course  could  not  fail  to  be  affected  and  in  some 
degree  determined  by  them.  Yet  the  chief  element  in  the  story  of  his  Hfe,  as  in 
the  stories  of  all  human  lives,  remains  of  course  the  gradual  development  of  his 
own  individuality,  and  the  unconscious  compromise  ultimately  effected  between  it 
and  the  influences  which  surrounded  him.  Of  his  triumphant  struggle  against 
difficulties  of  no  ordinary  significance,  and  of  his  single-minded  devotion  to  the 
task  which  his  genius  hand  marked  out  for  him,  his  life,  however  imperfectly  told, 
cannot  fail  to  offer  clear  and  abundant  testimony.  It  intertwines  itself  almost  in- 
separably with  his  works;  for  Pope,  as  has  been  well  said,^  was  a  literary  man,  as 
Garrick  was  an  actor,  pure  and  simple.  And  life  and  works  viewed  together  will, 
I  think,  irresistibly  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  Pope  belonged  to  that  second  order 
of  great  writers,  who  return  to  their  age  the  seeds  which  it  has  sown  in  them, 
grown  and  tended  into  magnificent  fruits;  not  to  that  other  and  assuredly  higher 
order,  whose  genius  is  not  receptive  and  reproductive  only,  but  creative,  and  of 
whom  England  was  barren  in  its  so-called  Augustan  age. 

1  See,  besides  his  well-known    Ode  to  the         ^  By  Dibdin,  in  his  History  of  the  Stage.  In 

Queen,  the  Epistle  desiring  the  Queen's  picture,  this  sense  Warburton  might  justly  write  to  Gar- 

characteristically  *  left  unfinished,  by  the  sud-  rick :  *  Nobody  but  you  and  Pope  ever  knew  how 

den  news  of  H.  M.  death.'  to  preserve  the  dignity  of  your  respective  em- 

*  See  above  all  the  exordium  of  his  Z-tfj/ Z><zy/  ployments.'      Fitzgerald's   Life   of  Garrick^ 

besides  his  poems  on  the  accession  of  George  I.  chap.  v. 
and  II.  respectively. 


xvl  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR 


Much  that  is  peculiar  in  the  life  and  literary  career  of  Pope  is  accounted  for  by 

the  circumstances  of  his  birth  and  education. 

Alexander  Pope  was  born  on  the  twenty-first  of  May  of  the  year  1688,  in  Lom- 
bard Street  in  the  city  of  London.  Of  his  father  and  namesake  it  is  known  with 
certainty  that  he  realised  in  the  linen-trade  a  fortune  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  re- 
tire from  business  at  a  comparatively  early  period  in  life,  and  at  his  death  to  leave 
behind  him  an  income  which  has  been  variously  estimated,  but  which  at  all  events 
sensibly  added  to  the  worldly  ease  of  his  son.  That  the  elder  Pope  was  a  devoted 
member  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  is  equally  undoubted;  we  find  his  son  in  his  earlier 
letters  referring  to  the  pious  habits  prevailing  in  his  family;  and  passages  in  the 
poetry  of  the  son  ^  picture  the  father's  life  as  spent  in  cheerful  resignation  to  the 
lot  in  those  days  incumbent  upon  adherents  to  the  persecuted  ancient  faith.  That 
Pope's  father  was  a  convert  to  the  Church  in  which  he  lived  and  brought  up  his  son, 
is  a  mere  piece  of  hearsay  built  upon  another  piece  of  hearsay  to  the  effect  that  the 
poet's  grandfather  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England.  Though  antiquarian 
zeal  has  sought  to  identify  this  supposed  AngHcan  clerical  grandsire  in  the  person 
of  an  Alexander  Pope,  rector  of  Thruxton  in  Hampshire,  who  died  in  the  year  1645, 
there  is  nothing  beyond  a  mere  conjecture  to  justify  the  application  of  an  intrinsically 
uninteresting  discovery.  The  poet  no  doubt  claimed  kindred  with  the  family  bear- 
ing his  name  formerly  ennobled  as  earls  of  Downe;  but  as  the  family  in  question 
was  entirely  extinct  in  the  male  line,  it  is  at  best  possible  that  the  two  families  had 
at  some  former  period  been  more  or  less  closely  connected.  There  is  just  as  much 
and  as  little  reason  to  assume  that  the  poet  was  descended  from  a  Scotch  branch  of 
the  Popes;  the  foundation  of  the  claim  resting  chiefly  on  the  two  facts  that  there 
have  been  Catholic  Popes  in  Scotland,  and  that  an  enthusiastic  Presbyterian  name- 
sake of  the  poet  vaguely  asserted  a  kind  of  kinsmanship  with  the  latter  in  his  lifetime. 

The  maiden  name  of  Pope's  mother  was  Edith  Turner.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  William  Turner,  a  Roman  Catholic  gentleman  of  good  position,  and  lord  of  the 
manor  of  Towthorpe  in  Yorkshire.  He  was  the  father  of  no  less  than  seventeen 
children,  of  whom  Pope's  mother  survived  all  the  rest.  She  died  at  the  age  of  93,  in 
1733,  affectionately  mourned  in  death  as  she  had  been  tenderly  cherished  through- 
out his  life  by  her  son.  On  a  monument  which  he  erected  to  her  he  recorded  her 
character  as  that  of  the  best  of  mothers  and  most  loving  of  women.^  Dr.  Johnson, 
in  whose  large  heart  the  sentiment  of  piety  sat  enthroned,  generously  observes  of 
Pope  under  this  aspect,  that  '  life  has,  among  its  soothing  and  quiet  comforts,  few 
things  better  to  give  than  such  a  son.'     Of  William  Turner's  children  some  were 

^  Epistle  to  ArbuthnotyW.  394  flf.     Imit.  of  minded  thing,  unworthy  anyone's  care  or  es- 

Hor.  bk.  Ti.  Ep.  11.  vv.  54  ff.  teem.'   Yi2Lyv4ZxA,  Autobiography  and  Remains 

2  No  attention  need  be  paid  to  Mrs.  Piozzi's  of  Mrs.  Piozzi^  11.  154. 
statement  that  Pope's  mother  was  *  a  poor  feeble- 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xvii 

brought  up  as  Protestants  and  some  Catholics;  but  it  cannot  be  doubted  that 
Pope's  mother  was  among  the  latter  number.  Her  attachment  to  the  Catholic  faith 
seemed  to  her  son  a  sufficient  argument  to  outweigh  all  the  inducements  to  con- 
version urged  upon  him,  after  his  father's  death,  by  Atterbury.  Thus  his  attitude 
towards  the  church  in  which  he  was  nurtured  invariably  remained  that  of  a  cheer- 
ful outward  acquiescence,  whatever  at  times  may  have  been  his  views  in  regard 
to  creeds  and  churches  in  general.^ 

On  retiring  from  business,  the  elder  Pope,  after  residing  for  a  time  at  Kensing- 
ton, finally  took  up  his  abode  at  Binfield,  on  the  border  of  Windsor  Forest,  and 
about  nine  miles  distant  from  the  royal  castle  and  town.  Here  he  remained  in 
modest  but  comfortable  circumstances  until  the  year  1 716,  when  the  family  re- 
moved to  Chiswick,  little  more  than  a  year  before  his  death.  Whatever  may  have 
been  his  own  earlier  history,  he  was  a  kind  and  indulgent  parent  to  his  precocious 
only  son,  the  development  of  whose  tastes  and  tendencies  the  father  seems  at 
times  to  have  been  fain  to  moderate,  but  never  to  check.  When  the  son  affected 
the  art  of  painting,  his  father  placed  no  obstacles  in  his  way;  when  he  adopted 
literature  as  the  calling  of  his  life,  his  father  with  equal  readiness  acquiesced  in 
this  hazardous  choice.  He  never  appears  to  have  intended  that  his  son  should 
engage  in  trade;  and  even  had  the  delicate  and  sickly  nature  of  the  latter  admitted 
of  his  following  one  of  the  learned  professions,  all  were  closed  to  him  by  the  cir- 
cumstance of  his  creed.  With  his  father  Pope  shared  the  love  of  gardening,  which, 
notwithstanding  many  absurd  excrescences,  was  one  of  the  healthiest  tastes  of  the 
times,  and  in  which  he  was  afterwards,  after  a  fashion  of  his  own,  to  indulge  in 
the  fantastic  laying-out  of  his  Twickenham  villa. 

Among  the  many  precocious  children  of  whom  we  read  in  literary  and  artistic 
biography  (and  precocity  is  as  frequent  here  as  it  is  rare  in  the  case  of  future  great 
statesmen;  for  talents  unfold  themselves  amidst  tranquil  surroundings,  but  to  fashion 
a  character  are  needed  the  storms  of  the  world  2),  Pope  was  assuredly  one  of  the 
most  precocious.  At  five  years  of  age  he  had  already  displayed  sufficient  signs  of 
promise  to  be  chosen  by  an  aunt  as  the  reversionary  legatee  of  all  her  books,  pict- 
ures and  medals.  His  education  in  its  beginnings  and  progress  corresponds  very 
closely  with  its  ultimate  results.  Pope  was  by  necessity  rather  than  choice  a  self- 
educated  man;  and  he  never  became  a  scholar.  Science  may  number  self-taught 
geniuses  among  her  chief  luminaries;  of  scholarship,  as  the  term  implies,  discipline 
is  an  indispensable  element.  Pope  taught  himself  writing  by  copying  from  printed 
books,  and  hence  acquired  at  least  one  external  mark  of  scholarly  habits,  the  prac- 
tice of  minute  calligraphy  crowded  into  nooks  and  corners  of  paper  —  a  practice 
which  afterwards  in  Pope's  case  almost  developed  itself  into  a  mania  and  obtained 
for  him  from  Swift  the  epithet  of  *  paper-sparing '  Pope.   And  as  he  passed  onward 

1  The  above  summary  is  based  on  a  comparison  of  Carruthers  with  various  antiquarian  tracts 
on  the  parentage  and  family  of  Pope  by  J.  Hunter  and  R.  Davies. 
*  Goethe's  Tasso. 


xviii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

from  the  first  rudiments,  his  education  remained  very  much  a  matter  of  chance.  From 
the  family  priest  (it  is  very  touching  to  find  how  few  of  these  Roman  Catholic  families 
lacked  the  ministration  of  one  of  the  persecuted  servants  of  their  Church),  whose 
name  was  Banister,  he  learnt  the  accidence  of  Latin  and  Greek,  when  eight  years  of 
age;  and  afterwards  successively  attended  two  small  Catholic  schools,  one  at  Twy- 
ford  near  Winchester,  which  he  is  said  to  have  left  in  disgrace  after  fleshing  upon 
its  master  the  youthful  weapon  of  his  satire,  the  other  in  London,  kept  by  a  convert 
of  the  name  of  Deane,  whose  principle  of  education  seems  to  have  been  as  far  as  pos- 
sible removed  from  that  of  unremitting  personal  superintendence.  About  this  time 
must  be  dated  the  famous  incident  of  the  boy  Pope's  visit  to  Will's  Coffee-house,  the 
sole  occasion  (according  to  his  account  to  Spence)  on  which  he  ever  beheld  Dry  den. 
Quitting  Mr.  Deane's  seminary  for  his  father's  house  at  Binfield,  Pope,  now 
twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age,  brought  with  him  little  or  no  accurate  learning,  but 
tastes  already  developed  and  a  literary  ambition  already  active.  At  about  eight 
years  of  age  he  had  translated  part  of  Statins,  who  next  to  Virgil  continued  through 
life  his  favourite  Latin  poet;  and  at  twelve  he  had  composed  a  play  founded  on  the 
Iliad.  At  Twyford  he  had  prepared  himself  for  this  effort  by  the  study  of  Ogilby's 
Homer,  followed  by  that  of  Sandys'  Ovid;  and  now  that  he  was  left  to  follow  the 
bent  of  his  own  inclinations,  his  studies  continued  to  pursue  the  same  direction. 
*  Considering,'  he  told  Spence,  *how  very  little  I  had  when  I  came  from  school,  I 
think  I  may  be  said  to  have  taught  myself  Latin,  as  well  as  French,  or  Greek;  and 
in  all  these  my  chief  way  of  getting  them  was  by  translation.'  ^  Translation  with- 
out guidance  is  the  ruin  of  accurate  scholarship;  but  it  is  not  Pope  or  his  father, 
it  is  the  penal  statutes  against  Catholic  teachers  which  are  to  be  held  accountable 
for  his  having  availed  himself  of  the  only  method  left  open  to  his  use. 
I  It  is  to  this  period  that  we  must  ascribe  the  first  of  his  preserved  juvenile  pieces. 
/  Though  he  had  no  public,  the  tonic  of  common  sense  appears  to  have  been  occa- 
sionally administered  by  his  father;  and  the  sense  of  rhythm  was  a  gift  which  had 
been  bestowed  upon  him  by  nature,  together  with  a  general  correctness  of  taste  in 
the  choice  of  words  and  expressions  which  his  preference  for  poetical  over  prose 
reading  could  not  fail  to  heighten.  To  these  causes  must  be  ascribed  the  extraor- 
dinary and  perhaps  unparalleled  fact  that  there  is  little  vital  difference,  so  far  as 
form  is  concerned,  between  some  of  the  earliest  and  some  of  the  latest  of  Pope's 
productions.  His  early  pieces  lack  the  vigour  of  wit  and  the  brilliancy  of  antithesis 
of  his  later  works;  but  they  have  the  same  felicity  of  expression,  and  the  same  easy 
flow  of  versification.  It  is  only  in  the  management  of  rhymes  that  Pope's  earliest 
productions  are  comparatively  negligent.  We  have  it  on  Pope's  own  authority, 
as  related  by  Spence,  that  some  of  the  couplets  in  an  epic  poem  on  the  subject  of 
Alcander,  prince  of  Rhodes,  which  he  begun  soon  after  his  twelfth  birthday,  were 

^  Even  the  Latin  scholarship  of  Pope  accord-  from  Horace  among  the  '  Imitations,'  noted  by 
ingly  appears  to  have  been  of  a  somewhat  un-  Pope  in  his  Temple  of  Fame  (p.  127  of  the 
sound  description.  See  e.  g.  the  strange  quotation    present  edition) . 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  xix 

afterwards  inserted  by  him  without  alteration  not  only  in  the  Essay  on  Criticisniy 
but  in  the  Dunciad.  Alcander,  after  having  progressed  to  the  number  of  4CXX) 
lines,  and  though  uniting  in  itself  specimens  of  every  style  admired  by  its  author 
—  Milton  and  Cowley  and  Spenser,  Homer  and  Virgil,  Ovid  and  Claudian  and 
Statius  —  was  left  uncompleted  and  ultimately  perished  in  the  flames,  to  which 
this  juvenile  magnum  opus  seems  to  have  been  sentenced  by  the  author  himself, 
and  not,  as  has  been  stated,  by  Bishop  Atterbury.^ 

In  his  fifteenth  year  Pope  went  to  London  to  learn  French  and  Italian;  but  there 
is  no  evidence,  either  in  his  letters  or  in  his  works,  that  he  ever  attained  to  any 
real  familiarity  with  either  of  these  languages.  French  he  seems  to  have  learnt  to 
read  with  ease;  whether  he  conversed  in  it  may  be  doubted,  and  his  invariable 
habit  in  his  poetry  of  accentuating  French  words  according  to  the  English  rule 
would  seem  to  lead  to  a  contrary  conclusion.  As  to  Italian,  he  is  said  to  have 
preferred  Ariosto  to  Tasso ;  but  translations  existed  of  both ;  and  the  circumstance 
that  in  his  Essay  on  Criticism  he  uniustifiablv  singles  out  Vida  for  an  unmeritej, 
eminence  among  the  Italian  writers  of  the  renaissance  proves  less  than  nothing  as 
to  Pope's  knowledge  either  of  that  language  or  its  literature;  inasmuch  as  the 
work  of  Vida  to  which  special  allusions  are  made  in  the  Essay  was  written  in 
Latin.  After  a  few  months  in  London  we  find  him  once  more  returned  to  the 
retirement  of  Binfield;  and  hereupon  ensues  a  period  of  five  or  six  years'  close 
application  to  study.  As  with  Pope  everything  was  precocious,  so  during  this  early 
period  of  his  life  he  is  overtaken  by  that  phase  of  despondency  and  seemingly 
uncontrollable  melancholy  which  work  engenders  in*those  of  sedentary,  as  it  cures 
in  those  of  active  habits  of  life,  but  which  has  tried  few  at  so  premature  a  point  of 
their  careers.  In  Pope's  case  the  friendly  advice  of  a  priest  named  Southcote 
prescribed  the  obvious  remedy,  moderation  in  study  combined  with  regular  bodily 
exercise,  and  it  is  touching  to  find  the  poet  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity  mindful 
of  the  inestimable  service  rendered  him  by  the  good  father,  and  obtaining  for  the 
latter,  at  the  hands  of  the  obnoxious  Walpole,  a  comfortable  abbacy  in  France. 

It  was  not  till  a  much  later  period  of  his  life,  that  under  the  influence  of  minds 
foreign  in  their  constitution  to  his  own,  Pope's  studies  ever  seriously  deviated  from 
the  narrow  course  which  they  had  taken  in  his  boyhood.  Ancient  and  English 
poets  nearly  monopolised  his  attention;  translation  and  imitation  helping  him  to 
familiarise  himself  by  practice  with  the  styles  of  his  favourite  authors.  He  trans- 
lated that  part  of  Statius  which  he  subsequently  published  with  the  corrections  of 
his  friend  and  adviser  Walsh;  as  well  as  Cicero's  De  Senedute^  an  isolated  juve- 
nile effort  in  prose  which  chance  has  continued  to  hide  from  the  eyes  of  posterity. 
Among  English  writers  he  was  attracted  in  a  far  higher  degree  by  the  poets  than 
by  the  prosaists.  Yet  he  read  Locke's  Essay,  though  not  without  effort;  and  Sir 
William  Temple's   Varia^  though  without  sympathy.     His  own  prose  style  can 

*  Sec  Roscoe's  Life,  pp.  19-20. 


XX  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

hardly  be  said  to  have  suffered  from  his  study  of  the  latter  author;  and  from  his 
earlier  letters,  as  well  as  from  his  Discourse  on  Pastoral  Poetry,  it  is  manifest  that 
as  a  prose-writer  he  only  lost  the  art  of  writing  naturally  by  slow  degrees.  Of  his 
appreciation  of  the  distinctive  styles  of  several  English  poets  his  Imitations  offer 
sufficient  proofs;  that  the  genius  of  Chaucer  only  in  part,  and  that  of  Spenser  hardly 
at  all,  revealed  itself  to  him,  seems  equally  clear,  if  equally  natural.  His  brief 
apprenticeship  was  already  drawing  towards  its  close;  and  he  became  an  author 
before  he  had  found  time  or  opportunity  to  exchange  dilettantism  for  scholarship. 


II. 

A  kindly  remembrance  will  ever  be  due  to  the  friendly  circle  whose  encourage- 
ment first  launched  Pope  upon  his  literary  life.  Yet  it  required  no  extraordinary 
penetration  to  recognise  in  the  gifted  and  studious  boy  the  promise  of  brilliant  orig- 
inal workmanship,  even  when  he  was  most  intent  upon  reproducing  in  juvenile 
clay  of  his  own  such  monuments  of  past  masters  as  had  attracted  his  attention. 
Pope's  parental  home  was  far  enough  removed  from  the  busy  city  to  enable  him  to 
become  one  of  the  wonders  of  his  vicinity;  and  at  East  Hamstead  near  Binfield 
dwelt  an  old  gentleman  well  qualified  by  shrewdness  and  experience  to  become  the 
earliest  patron  of  youthful  merit.  The  retirement  of  diplomatists  has  frequently 
been  of  service  to  literature;  and  Sir  William  Trumball,  as  his  letters  prove,  well 
merited  the  encomium  which  Pope  bestowed  upon  him  in  his  Epitaph,  that  he  was 
at  once  *  fill'd  with  the  sense  hi  age '  and  *  the  fire  of  youth.'  *  Give  me  leave  to  tell 
you,'  he  wrote  to  Pope  as  early  as  1705,  *that  I  know  nobody  so  likely  to  equal' 
Milton  as  the  author  of  his  earlier  poems  *  even  at  the  age  he  wrote  most  of  them, 
as  yourself.'  It  was  Trumball  who  introduced  his  protege  to  Wycherley,  the  vet- 
eran of  many  a  literary  campaign.  *  Manly '  Wycherley,  though  he  could  look 
back  upon  a  series  of  comedies  unsurpassed  in  brutal  vigour,  was  now  in  his  old 
age  collecting  and  revising  the  more  innocent,  if  less  powerful,  efforts  of  his  lyric 
moments.  To  Pope,  however,  he  could  at  first  hardly  fail  to  be  a  Hterary  hero, 
until  at  a  rather  later  period  familiarity  with  the  old  man's  poems  (submitted  by 
him  for  the  correction  of  the  tiro)  bred  its  inevitable  consequence,  and  a  too  literal 
interpretation  on  Pope's  part  of  a  proverbially  delicate  request  caused  a  coolness 
which  prevented  a  continuance  of  friendly  intercourse  on  the  old  terms.  To  Trum- 
ball in  the  first  instance,  and  then  to  Wycherley,  Pope  had  communicated  a  copy  of 
his  first  completed  effort,  the  Pastorals.  Wycherley  in  his  turn  sent  them  to  Walsh, 
who  was  himself  not  unknown  as  a  poet,  but  enjoyed  a  still  higher  reputation  as  a 
critic.  He  received  the  juvenile  poems  favourably  and  returned  a  gratifying  verdict 
upon  them :  *  It  is  not  flattery  at  all  to  say  that  Vergil  had  written  nothing  so  good 
at  his  age.'  1     He  then  extended  his  personal  patronage  to  the  young  aspirant  after 

1  Referring  of  course  to  the  '  juvenile  poems '  The  first  of  his  Eclogues  were  certainly  written 
of  Vergil  now  universally  regarded  as  spurious,     at  a  later  age  than  the  Pastorals  of  Pope. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xx! 

poetic  fame,  and  invited  him  to  his  seat  of  Abberley  in  Worcestershire.  Walsh 
died  in  1708,  a  year  before  the  Pastorals  were  actually  published;  but  he  lived  to 
point  out  to  his  young  friend  the  path  from  which  the  latter  never  swerved  during 
his  literary  career;  he  bade  him  be  a  *  correct  poet,'  or  in  other  words,  desired  to 
limit  the  excursions  of  Pope's  muse  to  regions  already  meted  out  by  trustworthy 
predecessors,  *  prescribed  her  heights  and  pruned  her  tender  wing.'  ^  *  The  best 
of  the  modern  poets  in  all  languages,'  wrote  Walsh  to  Pope  in  1706,  'are  those 
that  have  the  nearest  copied  the  ancients,'  a  maxim  sufficiently  characteristic  of 
his  critical  standpoints.  Another  friend  with  whom  Pope  at  this  time  became 
intimate  and  to  whom  he  addressed  many  letters  (published  surreptitiously  in  1727 
by  the  mistress  of  his  correspondent)  was  Henry  Cromwell.  Of  the  latter  person- 
ally little  is  known;  except  that  he  was  slovenly  in  his  person  and  '  rode  a  hunting 
in  a  tye-wig;  '^  but  his  letters  to  Pope  show  him  to  have  been  an  amateur  critic 
as  well  as  student,  and  he  seems  to  have  largely  contributed  to  introduce  Pope  and 
his  writings  to  the  knowledge  of  society  in  town,  where  Cromwell  was  a 
resident. 

And  thus  among  these  patrons  and  friends  the  Pastorals  during  four  years  or 
thereabouts  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  were  again  shown  to  other  personages 
prominent  in  society  or  letters:  —  to  George  Granville  afterwards  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  a  poet  and  patron  of  poets,  modest  on  the  head  of  his  own  performances, 
eager  for  the  success  of  those  of  others;  — to  Lord  Halifax  who  afterwards  when 
first  lord  of  the  Treasury  was  to  honour  himself  by  offering  a  pension  to  Pope 
which  the  latter,  equally  to  his  honour,  declined;  — to  Lord  Somers,  a  venerated 
chief  of  the  same  party,  the  Whigs;  — and  among  the  acknowledged  leaders  of 
literature  to  the  popular  Garth,  and  to  Congreve  the  all-admired,  the  inimitable, 
who  could  afford  to  beam  benignantly  upon  rising  talent,  though  avowing  himself 
careless  of  his  own  literary  fame. 

Fortified  by  the  approval  of  such  patrons  as  these,  the  young  poet  could  have  no 
difficulty  in  finding  an  opportunity  for  ushering  into  the  world  his  poetic  offspring. 
Its  sponsors  had  been  secured  beforehand;  and  the  necessary  midwife  appeared 
in  the  person  of  the  famous  bookseller  Jacob  Tonson,^  who  expressed  his  desire  to 
include  Pope's  Pastorals  in  the  forthcoming  volume  of  his  Poetic  Miscellany.  Ton- 
son  and  his  brother-publisher  Lintot  were  the  Bacon  and  Bungay  of  our  Augustan 
age;  enterprising  men  whose  rivalry  was  of  high  significance  to  the  literary  men  of 
their  times.  If  the  one  produced  a  poetic  miscellany,  the  other  was  sure  to  outbid 
it  by  a  miscellany  to  match;  if  the  one  rode  down  to  Oxford  to  gather  in  the  slowly- 
ripening  fruits  of  academic  leisure,  his  rival  might  be  safely  sought  on  the  way  to 
Cambridge;  and  thus  to  those  authors  whose  name  was  not  known  enough  to  en- 
sure a  subscription-list,  to  poets,  critics  and  translators  they  were  the  best  of  friends. 


1  Essay  on  Criticism,  v.  736.  2  Johnson. 

3  See  the  2d  Book  of  the  Dimciad,  passim. 


xxii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

They  kept  their  hands  free  from  the  lawless  audacity  of  their  contemporary  Curll; 
and  though  the  confraternity  of  authors  was  too  small  and  weak  to  enable  them  to 
hold  their  own  in  a  bargain,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  enterprise  of  these  pub- 
lishers helped  to  transfer  much  of  the  public  attention  from  the  stage  to  the  book- 
seller's counter.  Lintot  soon  afterwards  became  Pope's  usual  publisher;  but  the 
mysterious  vagaries  in  which  he  loved  to  indulge  in  bringing  out  his  works  fre- 
quently led  him  to  avail  himself  of  other  and  inferior  channels. 

In  1 709,  then,  Pope's  Pastorals  saw  the  light  of  publicity;  and  as  the  same  volume 
of  Miscellanies  (which  included  a  few  other  of  Pope's  early  pieces)  commenced 
with  the  Pastorals  of  Ambrose  Phillips  (afterwards  mercilessly  burlesqued  by  Gay) 
the  young  poet  found  himself  on  his  first  appearance  before  the  world  uninten- 
tionally furnished  with  that  invaluable  aid  towards  a  literary  success  —  a  foil. 


III. 

Between  the  years  1709  and  1715  falls  the  most  varied  and  active  period  of 
Pope's  personal  life  and  literary  career.  It  extends  from  the  publication  of  the 
Pastorals  to  that  of  the  first  volume  of  his  Iliad,  As  it  was  the  latter  work  which 
established  him  as  a  Classic  in  the  eyes  of  his  contemporaries,  and  the  proceeds 
of  which  furnished  him  with  the  means  of  leading  a  life  congenial  to  his  disposi- 
tion and  suitable  to  his  temperament  and  health,  so  its  publication  marks  the  con- 
clusion of  his  brief  period  of  journeymanship  in  the  world  of  literature.  It  was 
during  this  period  too  that  after  a  few  oscillations  he  finally  determined  the  circle 
of  his  intimacy,  and  secured  for  himself  the  lasting  enmity  of  some  amongst  his 
most  persevering  opponents. 

The  literary  world  which  Pope  entered  as  the  author  of  poems  full  of  promise, 
but  betraying  no  special  mark  such  as  to  range  him  at  once  among  the  adherents 
of  any  particular  school  or  coterie,  was,  as  has  been  already  sufficiently  indicated, 
divided  into  two  camps.  Parnassus  was  split  from  summit  to  base;  and  it  was 
upon  the  Tory  half  that  the  sun  of  Royal  and  government  favour  had  just  begun 
to  shine  with  concentrated  warmth.  The  Tory  wits  were  accordingly  with  hardly 
an  exception  politicians  above  all;  while  the  Whig  writers  ranged  with  greater 
freedom  through  more  various  walks  of  literature.  Whig  patronage  has  perhaps 
at  other  times  been  distributed  among  literary  men  with  a  less  immediate  expecta- 
tion of  a  quid  pro  quo  than  that  of  their  opponents.  At  all  events.  Pope's  early 
patrons  had  been  chiefly  connected  with  the  former  party;  and,  averse  by  nature 
from  busying  himself  with  political  questions,^  he  was  more  likely  to  be  drawn  into 

1  Whenever  as  a  boy,  In  reading  Sir  Wm.  and  above  them  by  his  philosophy.'  And  to  this 
Temple's  writings,  he  found  anything  political  in  indifference  he  adhered  so  consistently  through- 
themhehadnomanneroffeelingforit.  (Spence,  out  life  that  Ruff  head  {Life  of  Pope,  p.  45)  de- 
quoted  by  Roscoe.)  Tn  1714  he  writes  to  Edward  clares  himself  warranted  by  the  best  authorities 
Blount  that  he  is,  '  thank  God,  below  all  the  ac-  tn  stating  that  Pope  never  wrote  a  single  political 
tidents  of  state-changes  by  his  circumstances,  paper.     In  his  writings  he  can  hardly  be  said  to 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  xxiii 

the  wider  circle  of  which  Addison  was  the  centre  than  among  the  fiery  band  where 
Swift  loved  to  lord  it  over  peers  and  prelates.  Pope  was  both  young  enough  and 
sympathetic  enough  to  seek  and  find  friends  on  either  side;  but  it  was  with  the 
Whig  writers  that  during  his  visits  to  town  in  1710  and  the  following  year  he  ap- 
pears to  have  principally  associated.  When  in  171 1  he  published  his  ZTjj^/ <?« 
Criticising  it  was  at  once  commended  by  Addison  in  the  Spectator  to  the  favour  of 
a  discerning  public;  Steele  brimmed  over  with  eager  requests  for  contributions  to 
the  same  paper  from  so  accomplished  a  hand,  and,  about  the  commencement  of 
the  year  1712,  appears  to  have  introduced  the  young  author  to  Addison  himself. 

Unhappily  it  was  not  long  before  a  relation  thus  auspiciously  commenced  was 
to  be  enveloped  in  a  network  of  petty  clouds,  until  it  ended  in  the  most  pitiable, 
though  far  from  the  most  violent,  of  Pope's  literary  quarrels.  The  quarrel  —  if 
a  series  of  unreturned  attacks  can  be  called  a  quarrel  —  did  not  actually  explode 
till  the  time  of  the  publication  of  the  Iliad.  Yet  its  origin  dates  almost  from  the 
commencement  of  Pope's  acquaintance  with  Addison,  and  connects  itself  with 
that  Essay  on  Criticism  by  which  Pope  took  rank  among  the  most  brilliant  writers 
of  his  age. 

In  his  friendly  notice  of  that  poem  Addison  had  taken  exception  to  the  attacks 
which  it  contains  upon  Blackmore  and  Dennis;  but  the  praise  bestowed  upon  the 
entire  work  had  been  too  cordial  to  allow  this  exception  to  rankle  in  Pope's  mind. 
In  1 71 2  appeared  in  a  volume  of  miscellanies  published  by  Lintot  the  first  edition 
of  the  young  poet's  fresh  and  sparkling  Rape  of  the  Lock.  Addison's  notice  of  this 
poem  in  the  Spectator  had  been  favourable,  but  not  enthusiastic;  while  his  own 
avowed  followers  Tickell  and  Ambrose  Phillips  had,  as  contributors  to  the  same 
Miscellany,  received  a  measure  of  eulogy  which  Pope  might  justly  regard  as  ex- 
cessive. When  he  informed  Addison  of  his  design  to  enlarge  the  Rape  of  the  Lock 
by  introducing  the  machinery  of  the  Sylphs,  Addison  pronounced  against  the 
proposed  addition.  According  to  Warburton,  Pope  discerned  (and  as  Warburton 
implies,  truly  discerned)  in  tl^is  advice  the  insidious  intention  of  preventing  an 
improvement  sure  of  success.  There  is  no  reason  for  accepting  Warburton's 
insinuation  at  more  than  its  worth;  and  at  best,  therefore,  this  interpretation  on 
the  part  of  Pope  of  a  very  natural  and  plausible  counsel  must  be  viewed  as  an 
afterthought.  For  in  April  171 3  we  find  Pope  furnishing  Addison's  tragedy  of 
Cato  with  a  prologue,  which  was  duly  printed  with  an  encomium  by  Steele  in 
Addison's  new  paper,  the  Guardian,  to  which  Pope  was  himself  an  occasional 
contributor.!  Dennis  in  his  character  of  devil's  advocate  made  a  furious,  though 
not  wholly  inept,  onslaught  upon  the  popular  tragedy;  and  Pope  took  upon  him- 
self to  stand  forth  as  its  defender. 


have  ever  manifested  any  political  opinions  genu-  fervent  a  Jacobite  as  Oliver  Goldsmith,  who  also 
inely  his  own;  he  took  his  party  preferences  and  at  times  affected  to  coquet  with  extreme  views, 
dislikes  at  second  hand,  and  was  at  heart  about  as         1  He  wrote  eight  papers  in  it. 


xxiv  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR, 

In  1 713  was  published  a  pamphlet  entitled  The  Narrative  of  Dr.  Robert  Norrh 
on  the  Frenzy  of  J.  D.  It  contained  an  imaginary  report  pretending  to  be  written 
by  a  notorious  quack  mad-doctor  of  the  day;  and  was  anonymous.  It  cannot  be 
assumed  with  certainty  that  Addison  was  at  first  aware  of  the  identity  of  its  real 
author.  In  any  case  he  directed  Steele  to  write  a  note  to  its  publisher,  expressing 
Mr.  Addison's  disapproval  of  the  treatment  to  which  Dennis  had  been  subjected. 
Thus  to  his  inexpressible  mortification,  Pope  found  himself  placed  in  the  intol- 
erable position  of  a  disavowed  champion,  reprimanded  for  his  officiousness  by  the 
very  individual  whom  he  had  put  himself  forward  to  serve. 

The  pamphlet  itself  is,  in  my  opinion  at  least,  quite  unworthy  of  Pope.  It  is  a 
palpable  imitation  of  Swift's  immortal  hoax  upon  Partridge  the  prophet;  but  the 
extravagance  of  its  supposition  falls  far  short  of  that  in  the  latter,  and  the  common- 
place character  of  the  joke  is  unredeemed  by  any  genuine  humour  in  its  execution. 
In  any  case  Addison  was  fully  justified  in  disavowing  a  proceeding  otherwise  cer- 
tain to  be  attributed  in  some  degree  to  his  own  inspiration,  abhorrent  though  it 
was  from  every  principle  observed  by  him  in  the  conduct  of  his  literary  life.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  he  was  aware  that  Pope  was  the  author,  Addison  showed  at  once 
timidity  and  discourtesy  in  the  indirect  method  of  blame  adopted  by  him.  But 
whether  he  was  so  aware,  remains  very  uncertain.^  A  painful  soreness  was  nat- 
urally enough  created  in  Pope's  mind.  But  before  Addison's  conduct  in  the  trans- 
action is  stigmatised  as  it  has  been,  it  should  be  shown  that  an  interpretation 
which  leaves  it  unimpeachable  deserves  to  be  rejected. 

This  episode  produced  a  twofold  result.  Although  Pope  continued  to  remain 
on  friendly  terms  with  Addison  (his  Epistle  to  the  latter,  occasioned  by  his  Dia- 
logues on  Medals,  was  written  in  1 715),  yet  an  angry  feeling  had  been  aroused 
against  the  latter  in  Pope's  mind  which,  if  charged  with  the  sense  of  any  addi- 
tional energy,  could  not  fail  to  explode.  He  was  thus  naturally  rendered  more 
amenable  to  the  attractions  of  another  coterie  to  which  Addison  gave  no  laws, 
and  where  his  satellites  were  treated  with  open  scorn.  And,  in  the  second  place, 
it  established  Dennis  in  the  position  of  a  foe  with  a  grievance  quite  sufficient  in 
his  case  to  lead  to  permanent  hostility. 

John  Dennis  was  one  of  those  old  campaigners  who  can  boast  more  scars  than 
laurels;  but  with  whom  a  long  experience  in  the  wars  goes  to  supply  the  want  of 
regular  training  or  native  capacity.  As  an  original  author,  he  occupied  a  place 
among  the  rank  and  file  of  his  contemporaries.  He  wrote  or  altered  nine  dramatic 
pieces,  among  which  two  comedies  are  said  by  an  indefatigable  and  conscientious 
searcher  of  such  wares  ^  to  display  considerable  merit.  As  a  critic,  he  undoubtedly 
possessed  certain  characteristics  which  would  have  ensured  him  the  prominence  he 
coveted  even  in  our  own  times.     He  was  free  from  that  sentiment  which  with  the 

1  Dennis  made  two  statements  on  the  subject,  thoroughly  contradictory  to  one  another.     Sec 
Carruthers'  Life  of  Po^e,  where  an  opposite  conclusion  is  suggested  to  that  preferred  above. 
*  Geneste. 


INTRODCTCTOk^  memoir.  XXV 

generality  of  critics  so  fatally  interferes  with  a  due  exercise  of  the  judicial  faculty 
—  a  respect  for  success.  Indeed  he  avowed  it  as  his  guiding  principle  in  the  choice 
of  his  victims,  to  select  leading  instances  of  unmerited  popularity.  His  Remarks  on 
Cato  had  not  failed  to  exemplify  his  ability  of  occasionally  hitting  the  nail  on  the 
head  amidst  a  series  of  random  blows.  Pope's  burlesque  of  his  characteristics  had 
failed  to  crush  him  by  its  exaggerated  ridicule.  In  1716  Dennis  retorted  by  his 
Character  of  Mr.  Pope^  in  which  the  latter  was  abused  for  an  imitation  of  Horace 
which  he  had  never  published;  and  in  1720  he  saluted  the  completion  of  Pope's 
Iliad  by  a  discharge  of  minute  cavils,  of  which  as  usual  a  certain  proportion  were 
by  no  means  defective  in  point.  Finally  (for  it  is  necessary  to  omit  the  subsidiary 
passes  in  this  prolonged  duel)  Dennis  found  his  place  in  the  Dunciad,  and  lived 
to  receive  from  Pope  the  sneeringly-bestowed  alms  of  a  prologue  written  for  his 
benefit  in  his  blind  old  age.  He  died  shortly  afterwards  in  1734,  secure  of  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  immortality. 

Pope's  first  acquaintance  with  Swift,  destined  to  ripen  into  an  intimacy  of  para- 
mount influence  upon  the  younger  of  the  pair,  connects  itself  with  the  publication 
of  Windsor  Forest  early  in  1713.  In  the  summer  of  the  same  year  Swift  returned 
to  Ireland,  after  performing  services  of  inestimable  value  to  the  Tory  party,  but 
disappointed  in  his  just  hopes  of  episcopal  preferment.  Later  in  the  year  he  paid 
another  visit  to  England,  in  order  to  heal  if  he  could  the  breach  widening  from 
day  to  day  between  the  Tory  chiefs  Oxford  and  Bolingbroke.  In  the  succeeding 
winter  commenced  a  correspondence  between  him  and  Pope  which  was  continued 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  until  Swift's  mind  was  at  last  overwhelmed  by  the  dark 
cloud  of  which  it  had  long  foreseen  and  dreaded  the  approach.  In  1713  Swift  was 
at  the  height  of  his  influence  among  the  party  to  whose  side  personal  resentment 
had  originally  driven  him  over.  But  if  the  subtle  flattery  conveyed  in  the  courtesy, 
frequently  descending  even  to  obsequiousness,  of  his  lordly  friends  had  helped  to 
attach  him  to  their  service,  yet  when  they  fell  it  was  his  own  proud  nature  which 
caused  him  to  adhere  with  equal  stedfastness  to  a  hopeless  cause.  Swift  gradually 
introduced  Pope  to  the  entire  clique  of  politicians  and  writers  who  were  deluding 
themselves  by  the  intricacies  of  their  own  devices.  Thus  Pope  became  acquainted 
with  Robert  Harley  Earl  of  Oxford,  the  lord  treasurer,  an  arch-intriguer  who  had 
only  attained  to  power  in  order  to  prove  his  incapacity  for  its  exercise,  and  whose 
supporters  had  begun  to  doubt  the  political  sagacity  with  which  they  had  credited 
his  artful  manipulation  of  national  difficulties.  Thus  too  he  was  made  known  to 
one  whom  he  was  afterwards  to  venerate  as  his  guide  and  philosopher,  —  to  Henry 
St.  John  Viscount  Bolingbroke.  Pope's  literary  conscience  prevented  him  from  ac- 
cepting Bolingbroke  as  a  brother  poet;  in  every  other  capacity  he  was  willing  to 
offer  homage  to  this  dazzling  and  unsafe  leader.  Connected  with  both  Dean  and 
Secretary,  though  by  a  courageous  consistency  of  character  elevated  above  either, 
was  Atterbury  bishop  of  Rochester,  the  representative  scholar  of  Oxford  University; 
the  one  Jacobite  who  was  found  ready  for  action  at  the  critical  moment  of  Queen 


xxvi  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

Anne's  death;  and  afterwards  (in  1722)  the  principal  conspirator  in  a  desperate 
plot.  Among  the  literary  notabilities  of  the  same  circle  were,  besides  their  leader 
Swift,  Thomas  Parnell,  an  apostate  from  the  Whigs  and  a  lyrical  poet  of  genuine 
merit,  whom  intemperate  habits  were  believed  to  have  hurried  into  a  premature 
grave  (in  1718),^  and  Matthew  Prior;  but  the  latter  was  at  this  time  absent  as  am- 
bassador at  Paris  from  the  meetings  of  his  friends  and  boon-companions.  A  higher 
esteem  was  justly  enjoyed  by  Arbuthnot,  a  man  of  principle  as  well  as  wit,  a  phy- 
sician who  in  Swift's  phrase  *  knew  his  art  but  not  his  trade,'  and  a  satirist  who  could 
work  with  Swift  and  Pope  on  their  own  ground,  and  be  acknowledged  as  their  equal 
by  both.  With  Gay,  who  cheerfully  oscillated  between  political  camps  as  to  whose 
tenets  he  was  indifferent,  while  his  vivacious  satire  was  of  inestimable  advantage 
to  those  at  whose  service  it  was  placed.  Pope  had  already  become  intimate  in 
1 71 1;  and  their  friendship  continued  unabated 2  till  Gay's  death  in  1732,  which 
was  mourned  by  Pope  with  a  depth  of  feeling  such  as  he  rarely  cared  to 
manifest.^ 

Most  of  these  men,  both  politicians  and  authors,  had  long  associated  together  in 
clubs  where  the  political  element  predominated  —  above  all  in  the  October  Club; 
but  as  the  party  became  disorganised  by  the  rivalry  of  Oxford  and  Bolingbroke, 
the  harmony  of  these  meetings  suffered,  and  the  establishment  of  a  pre-eminently 
literary  club  seemed  to  offer  the  means  of  easier  converse.  The  Scribblerus  Club 
was  so  named  in  honour  of  Swift,  for  whose  name  Martin  had  been  substituted 
as  a  humorous  synonym  by  Lord  Oxford,  whence  the  appellation  of  Martinus 
Scribblerus.^  The  burlesque  writings  with  which  this  club  amused  itself  were 
subordinated  to  a  very  felicitous  design,  that  of  parodying  all  the  vagaries  of 
literature  in  the  form  of  the  memoirs  of  a  representative  Dunce.  Swift  (the 
original  notion  of  whose  Gulliver  is  contained  in  the  Memoirs  of  Scribblerus), 
Arbuthnot  and  others  contributed  with  Pope  to  the  execution  of  the  scheme, 
which  afterwards  suggested  to  Pope  his  Treatise  on  the  Bathos  (1727),  and  thus 
connects  itself  with  the  great  satire  of  the  Dunciad  itself. 

But  the  indulgencies  of  club  life  as  it  was  then  conducted  were  ill-suited  to  the 
delicate  constitution  of  Pope,  and  threatened  at  one  time  seriously  to  interfere 
with  the  project  of  a  literary  magnum  opus  with  which  he  had  already  familiarised 
himself.  For  his  experiment  of  becoming  a  painter,  under  the  tuition  of  Jervas, 
had  been  soon  abandoned  after  its  commencement  in  1713;  and  he  had  returned 
with  renewed  energy  to  his  proper  studies.  It  was  Swift  who  encouraged  him  to 
persevere  in  the  arduous  undertaking  of  translating  the  Iliad,  and  who,  before 
the  hopeless  collapse  of  the  Tory  party  in  1714,  had  by  his  personal  exertions 

1  This  is  Pope's  own  account:  Johnson  had  the  Beggar's  Opera!  See  Wright's  Carte, 
heard  Parnell's  death  attributed  to  grief  for  the    Hist,  of  the  Georges,  Chap.  in. 

loss  of  his  son,  or  of  his  wife.  ^  Epistle  tb  Arbuthnot^  vv.  255  ff. 

2  On  the  strength  of  a  caricature  it  has  been         *  Carruthers. 
supposed  that  Pope  was  jealous  of  the  success  of 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xxvii 

obtained  for  him  a  subscription-list  of  unprecedented  length  and  splendour.  Yet 
Pope  had  never  sufficiently  identified  himself  with  the  Tory  party  to  forfeit  the 
encouragement  of  the  Opposition  magnates  as  well.  When  the  Tories  had  fallen, 
when  Bolingbroke  after  his  ephemeral  tenure  of  supreme  power  had  fled  in  dis- 
grace, when  Oxford  was  under  arrest,  and  Swift  had  retreated  with  dignified  slow- 
ness into  his  Irish  deanery,  Pope  was  courteously  entreated  by  one  of  the  Whig 
ministers  of  the  new  sovereign,  Lord  Halifax,  to  accept  a  pension  at  his  hands. 
This  offer,  as  we  have  seen,  Pope  declined;  and  the  brilliant  success  of  his  Iliad^ 
of  which  the  first  four  books  appeared  in  the  summer  of  1715,  rendered  him  for 
the  future  absolutely  independent  of  patronage. 


IV. 

The  publication  of  Pope's  Homer  constitutes  one  of  the  most  noteworthy 
episodes  of  his  entire  career.  It  thoroughly  established  him  in  the  foremost 
rank  among  the  writers  of  his  age,  it  brought  him  a  competent  fortune,  it  secured 
him  a  circle  of  friends  which  he  could  henceforth  widen  at  his  own  choice,  it 
involved  him  in  the  bitterest  and  most  lamentable  dispute  of  his  life.  Antici- 
pating, therefore,  in  some  points  the  regular  order  of  this  sketch,  I  place  to- 
gether at  once  such  circumstances  as  it  seems  desirable  to  recal  in  connexion 
with  the  various  stages  of  the  publication.  Gay,  in  a  charming  occasional  poem 
Alexander  Pope  his  safe  return  from  Troy  (which  will  be  found  in  nearly 
all  the  biographies  of  Pope  and  to  which  frequent  reference  is  made  in  the 
notes  of  the  present  edition)  congratulated  his  friend  upon  the  completion  of 
the  Iliad  in  the  name  of  a  host  of  sympathising  associates  and  admirers;  but 
even  then  the  Homer  was  only  half  complete,  and  a  second  equally  prosperous, 
voyage  awaited  the  poet,  though  on  this  his  vessel  was  to  be  partly  worked  by 
hired  mariners. 

In  1 7 14  Pope  had  published  specimen  passages  from  the  Odyssey  in  one 
of  Lintot's  Miscellanies ;  and  soon  afterwards,  and  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  following  year,  he  was  engaged  upon  the  translation  of  the  Iliad.  In 
the  autumn  of  1714  he  visited  Oxford  in  order  to  benefit  by  her  libraries, 
and  in  171 5  the  subscribers  received  their  copies  of  the  first  four  books. 
The  volumes  completing  the  Iliad  were  published  in  171 7,  '18  and  '20;  and 
the  stamp  of  completeness  set  upon  the  whole  by  the  well-known  dedication 
to  Congreve.  The  translation  of  the  Odyssey  occupied  Pope  and  his  con- 
ductors from  1723  to  '5,  by  which  latter  year  the  whole  work  (including  the 
Batrachomyomachia  by  Parnell)  had  been  absolved.  The  proceeds  of  the  Iliad 
brought  to  Pope  a  sum  exceeding  ;^5ooo,  even  after  deducting  the  payments 
for  the  assistance  which  he  had  received  in  the  notes.  The  Odyssey  produced 
between  ;£"3000  and  ;^4000  in  addition,  in  which  are  not  comprehended  the  sums 


xxviii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

paid  to  Fenton  and  Broome,  who  had  contributed  half  the  work.  Pope's  deal- 
ings with  his  coadjutors,  like  most  of  the  pecuniary  transactions  of  his  life,  have 
been  exposed  to  much  angry  comment,  and  even  later  writers  have  echoed  the 
exaggeration  according  to  which  Fenton  was  requited  only  by  a  small  gratuity 
and  a  stolen  epitaph.  These  squabbles  concerning  literary  honoraria  rarely 
admit,  and  are  still  more  rarely  deserving,  of  being  decided  by  posterity.  Whether 
Fenton  and  Broome  were  sufficiently  paid  or  not,  their  names  may  be  without 
danger  forgotten  in  connexion  with  Pope's  Homer.  To  their  employer  they  were 
absolutely  indebted  for  manner  and  style;  and  Fenton's  verse  is  in  reality  as  much 
Pope's  as  Pope's  own.  For  (as  will  be  suggested  below)  Pope  was  imitable;  and 
herein  he  offers  a  salient  contrast  to  Dryden,  whose  own  touches  in  the  second 
part  of  Absalom  and  Achitophel  in  every  case  are  distinctly  discernible  as  they 
diversify  a  dead  level  of  Tate. 

Such  was  the  gradual  progress  towards  completion  of  Pope's  famous  work. 
But  the  publication  of  its  first  instalment  was  attended  by  an  event  for  ever 
memorable  in  our  literary  history.  At  the  same  time  as  the  version  by  Pope 
of  the  first  four  books  of  the  Iliad,  appeared  another  of  the  first  book  by 
Tickell. 

Thomas  Tickell  was  known  as  an  Oxonian  and  man  of  letters  who  had  after  a 
youth  of  very  unripe  Toryism  developed  into  a  full-blown  Whig.  In  former  days 
he  had  ventured  to  produce  a  rival  play  to  Addison's  Cato ;  but  the  success  and 
virtue  of  the  great  Whig  author  had  in  the  end  made  a  complete  conquest  of 
the  honest  man.  Though  it  is  inadmissible  on  the  strength  of  Pope's  unproved 
insinuations  to  describe  him  as  Addison's  dummy,  he  shared  with  Ambrose 
Phillips  the  distinction  of  being  universally  regarded  as  one  of  the  dmes  damnees 
of  the  dictator  at  Button's.  It  might  fairly  be  supposed  that  nothing  which  he 
now  undertook  was  undertaken  without  the  sanction  of  his  acknowledged  leader. 
Otherwise  his  venture  might  have  been  regarded  as  nothing  more  than  an 
ordinary  instance  of  the  competition  common  among  the  publishers  of  the  day 
(particularly  as  it  only  consisted  of  a  single  book,  to  which  Tickell  never  added 
any  more,  though  his  workmanship  is  not  without  decided  merit  of  its  own). 
But  Pope,  who  professed  to  have  undertaken  his  own  translation  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  Addison's  most  intimate  friend,  Steele,  and  whose  mind  was  only  too 
ready  to  admit  any  apparent  confirmation  of  the  suspicion  which  it  harboured 
against  Addison  himself,  was  enraged  beyond  all  bounds.  His  wrath  increased 
when  he  was  told  that  Addison  had  declared  TickelPs  translation  to  be  the  best 
ever  put  forth  in  any  language.  His  indignation,  accountable  indeed,  but  wholly 
inexcusable  in  the  wilfulness  of  its  conclusions  and  the  licence  of  its  expression, 
first  found  vent  in  a  letter  to  Secretary  Craggs,  a  common  friend  of  Addison  and 
himself.  In  this  he  declared  Tickell  to  be  the  *  humblest  slave  '  among  Addison's 
followers  at  Button's.  And  then  his  fury  found  a  wider  outlet  in  the  famous 
lines  which  were  afterwards,  with  revisions  and  omissions,  inserted  in  the  Epistle 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  xxix 

to  Dr.  Arbuthnoty      It  was  the  first,  as  it  was  the  most  brilliant,  of  those  satiric 

sketches  of  character  upon  which  Pope's  genius  was  to  expend  its  most  consum-^ 

mate  efforts;  so  that  from  hatred,  that  most  powerful  passion  of  the  age,  was  born 

a  species  of  composition  in  which  its  representative  poet  has  excelled  all  other 

writers. 

In  the  earlier  version  of  these  immortal  lines  occurs  a  passage  showing  clearly 

enough  the  source  of  the  taunts  which  Pope  allowed  himself  to  launch  against 

one  to  whom  he  was  yet,^  happily  for  his  reputation,  to  live  to  make   partial 

amends : 

*  Who,  if  two  wits  on  rival  themes  contest, 

Approves  of  both,  but  likes  the  worst  the  best.' 

His  resentment  further  blinded  him  into  charging  Addison  with  the  real  author- 
ship of  Tickell's  Homer;  but  this  charge  was  soon  dropped.  Meanwhile  Addison 
remained  serenely  imperturbable,  replying  to  Pope's  satire  by  a  more  than  com- 
plimentary reference  to  his  Homer  in  the  Freeholder^  where  he  ranked  it  on 
a  level  with  Dryden's  Vergil.  And  thus,  the  quarrel,  like  all  quarrels  conducted 
on  one  side  only,  could  proceed  no  further.  Yet  (as  the  republication,  so  late 
as  1735,  of  the  verses  upon  Addison  proves)  the  offence,  whether  real  or  imagi- 
nary, long  continued  to  rankle  in  Pope's  breast.  Was  it  real,  or  was  it  imagi- 
nary? Allowing  Addison  to  have  been  fully  responsible  for  Tickell's  proceeding, 
we  are  not  obliged  as  a  necessary  consequence  to  condemn  him  for  having 
permitted  it.  Nor  can  he  as  a  critic  who,  like  few  in  his  age,  was  anxious  to 
discover  beauties  rather  than  detect  flaws,  be  blamed  for  having  praised  both 
Tickell's  and  Pope's  translations  in  accordance  with  his  high  opinion  of  either. 
In  neither  case,  as  modern  critics  are  fain  to  agree,  was  that  high  opinion  wholly 
undeserved,  though  in  either  it  was  exaggerated.  On  the  other  hand  there  is 
much  significance  in  the  observations  on  this  subject  of  one  of  the  most  pene- 
trating students  of  literary  men  and  manners.  *  It  was  natural,'  writes  Thack- 
eray,^ *that  Pope  and  Pope's  friends  should  believe  that  this  counter-translation, 
suddenly  advertised  and  so  long  written,  —  though  Tickell's  college-friends  had 
never  heard  of  it,  though  when  Pope  first  wrote  to  Addison  regarding  his  scheme 
Addison  knew  nothing  of  the  similar  projects  of  Tickell's,  —  it  was  natural  that 
Pope  and  his  friends,  having  interests,  passions,  and  prejudices  of  their  own, 
should  believe  that  Tickell's  translation  was  but  an  act  of  opposition  against 
Pope,  and  that  they  should  call  Tickell's  emulation  Addison's  envy,'  —  *  if  envy,' 
adds  the  same  writer,  *it  were.'  The  solution  of  the  last  query  must  be  found  in 
our  estimate  of  the  character  of  Addison;  a  character  the  whiteness  of  which, 
after  annoying  generation  after  generation  of  sceptics,  rests  as  unstained  as  if  it 
had  never  been  subjected  to  examination  at  their  pains-taking  hands.     But  what- 

^  vv.  193-214,  3  In  his  Lectures  on  the  English  Humour* 

2  In  the  Imitation  of  Horace ^  Bk.  i.  Ep.  11.     ists, 
(vY.  215-220),  published  in  1737. 


XXX  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR, 

ever  the  character  of  Addison,  Pope  and  his  age  at  all  events  preferred  to  judge 
it  according  to  their  own  standard. 

V. 

We  turn  for  a  moment  from  the  progress  of  Pope's  literary  career  to  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  personal  life,  though  indeed  it  would  be  a  futile  attempt  to 
endeavour  to  dissociate  the  two.  Soon  after  the  publication  of  the  first  volume  of 
Pope's  Homer,  he  removed  with  his  parents  from  Binfield  to  Chiswick,  where  they 
settled  in  the  spring  of  1 716,  for  a  sojourn  which  was  not  to  extend  over  more 
than  a  couple  of  years.  By  this  time  Pope  had  already  become  a  welcome  guest 
in  the  fashionable  circles  of  the  metropolis  and  its  vicinity;  nor  could  it  be  other- 
wise than  that  the  influence  of  female  fascination  should  be  brought  to  bear  upon 
his  susceptible  nature.  It  was  very  well  for  Walsh  to  have  admonished  him,  as 
an  author  of  sixteen,  to  take  occasion  (in  his  Fourth  Pastoral)  '  to  shew  the  dif- 
ference between  Poets'  mistresses  and  other  men's;'  1  but  such  problems  require, 
even  in  the  case  of  poets,  to  be  worked  out  by  experience;  and  Pope  was  not 
anxious  to  avoid  the  opportunities  with  which  he  met. 

Before  his  admission  into  the  fashionable  life  of  the  Town,  his  personal  ac- 
quaintances had  been  chiefly  restricted  to  the  Catholic  gentry  of  the  counties 
around  Windsor.  Among  these  were  the  Carylls  of  Sussex,  of  whom  John  Caryll 
(formerly  secretary  to  the  Consort  of  James  II.)  became  one  of  Pope's  most 
favoured  correspondents.  Among  the  members  of  this  family  who  in  Gay's  con- 
gratulatory poem  *  come  by  dozens '  to  grace  the  Translator's  triumph,  was  the 
'Unhappy  Lady,'  whose  melancholy  story  has  been  mingled  up  with  that  of  the 
*  Unfortunate  Lady '  whose  case  gave  rise  to  Pope's  beautiful  elegy.  Another  of 
these  Families  was  that  of  the  Fermors  of  Tusmore  in  Oxfordshire,  of  whom 
Miss  Arabella  Fermor  was  immortalised  as  Belinda  in  the  Rape  of  the  Lock.  But 
a  closer  interest  attached  Pope  to  a  third  Catholic  family,  the  Blounts  of  Maple- 
durham  in  Oxfordshire,  near  Reading.  The  head  of  this  family,  Mr.  Lister  Blount, 
had  two  daughters  named  Teresa  and  Martha,  born  respectively  in  the  years  1688 
and  1690.  Both  these  ladies  had  received  part  of  their  education  at  Paris,  where 
the  natural  vivacity  of  their  dispositions  had  been  heightened,  and  the  charm  of 
their  manners  had  received  an  additional  piquancy.  Scandal  afterwards  busied 
itself  with  the  progress  of  the  relations  between  Pope  and  these  ladies,  in  which 
however  there  seems  nothing  either  unnatural  or  unparalleled.^  It  seems  clear 
that  as  Pope's  acquaintance  with  the  Miss  Blounts  ripened  into  intimacy,  he  came 
to  admire  them  both;  that  his  attentions,  poetic  and  other,  were  at  first  chiefly 
addressed  to  the  elder  sister,  but  that  in  the  end  the  younger  Martha  became  the 
object  of  a  lifelong  sentiment,  oscillating  between  friendship  and  a  deeper  feeling, 

1  See  Walsh's  letter  to  Pope,  dated  Sept  gth,  tions  towards  the  sisters  of  whom  one  became 
1796.  his  wife,  may  be  cited  in  illustration  of  part  of  11 

*  The  well  known  instance  of  Schiller's  rela-    very  easy  psychological  problem. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xxxi 

but  tinged  to  the  last  with  the  warm  hues  of  an  unselfish  devotion.  Whether 
Pope  was  ever  in  love  with  Martha  Blount  is  a  question  of  terms  rather  than  of 
facts.  The  report  that,  when  almost  at  the  point  of  death  he  offered  her  marriage, 
seems  nothing  more  than  a  baseless  invention.  The  feeling  which  he  entertained 
towards  her  might  have  operated  differently  in  the  case  of  a  different  man.  It  is 
certain  that  his  regard,  both  for  herself  and  for  her  sister,  involved  him  in  a  des- 
perate broil  with  a  volatile  fopling  (James  Moore  Smythe)  who  had  ventured  upon 
a  pastoral  flirtation  with  the  lively  sisters.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  for  Mar- 
tha's sake  he  descended  to  an  action  which  cast  the  worst  of  stains  upon  his  literary 
honour.!  And  to  Martha  Blount,  on  his  decease,  Pope  bequeathed  *  out  of  a  sin- 
cere regard  and  long  friendship  for  her  '  the  largest  share  of  his  personal  property. 
It  was  hardly  however  to  be  expected  that  Pope's  affection  towards  the  Miss 
Blounts  should  preclude  him  from  offering  the  incense  of  his  adoration  from  time 
to  time  to  other  beauties.  Scandal  alone  (or  hyperconscientious  biography)  has 
contrived  to  pervert  the  character  of  his  relations  towards  the  ladies  of  Maple- 
durham;  2  but  scandal  itself  must  allow  the  innocence  of  his  admiration  for  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu.  To  this  celebrated  personage  he  was  introduced  through 
the  medium  of  Mrs.  Howard,  afterwards  Countess  of  Suffolk,  a  lady  to  whose  in- 
fluence over  the  Prince  of  Wales  (afterwards  George  II.)  no  bounds  existed,  until 
they  were  imposed  by  his  political  sagacity.  With  Lady  Mary  love  of  admiration 
had  been  a  passion  ever  since  the  day  when  her  father  had  introduced  her  as  a 
child  to  the  boisterous  attentions  of  the  Kit-Cat  Club;  ^  and  she  devoted  herself  to 
literary  pursuits  and  studies  with  an  energy  unusual  among  ladies  of  rank  since  the 
days  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  It  was  therefore  not  wonderful  that  she  should  be 
gently  attracted  by  the  pronounced  homage  of  an  already  fashionable  author.  Nor 
was  there  anything  in  the  nature  of  the  attentions  she  received  and  permitted,  to 
arouse  the  suspicions  of  her  even-minded  husband,  or  to  offer  materials  sufficient 
at  a  later  date  to  exercise  the  malice  with  which  Horace  Walpole  endeavoured  to 
colour  all  her  actions.  During  her  absence  with  her  husband  in  the  East  (from 
1 716  to  'i8)  Lady  Mary  allowed  Pope  to  address  her  in  the  strains  of  a  masquerade 
lover,  but  her  replies  are  characterised  by  a  cool  irony  which  even  her  corre- 
spondent cannot  have  deluded  himself  into  interpreting  as  self-restraint.  After  her 
return,  when  she  became  his  near  neighbour  at  Twickenham,  his  vanity  seems  to 
have  been  ultimately  wounded  by  some  instance  of  the  equanimity  to  which  she 
had  from  the  first  done  her  best  to  accustom  him.  For  there  is  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  a  fancied  jealousy  had  anything  to  do  with  the  offence.     Gradually  they 

1  By  consenting,  in  order  to  obtain  the  capital  Pamphleteer)  to  acquit  him  of  the  attempt,  in 
for  an  investment  for  her  benefit,  to  accept  a  his  biography  of  Pope,  to  charge  the  '  licentious- 
large  sum  from  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  in  ness  of  the  man '  with  an  offence  imputable  to 
return  for  the  suppression  of  a  satirical  attack  the  *  grossness  of  the  times.' 

upon  her  character.  3  See  the  well  known  story  in  Lord  Wharn- 

2  It  is  difficult,  notwithstanding  the  indignant  cl  fife's  Introductory  Anecdotes  to  the  Letters 
Reply  of  Bowles  (printed  in  Vol.  xvii.  of  the    qf  Lady  M.  W.  M. 


xxxii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

became  bitter  enemies;  and,  together  with  her  favourite  associate  Lord  Hervey, 
Lady  Mary  came  to  be  included  in  the  category  of  the  best-abused  victims  of  Pope's 
vindictive  satire.  His  specific  charges  against  her  have  been  satisfactorily  dis- 
proved; but  such  was  Pope's  satirical  genius  that  Sappho  is  no  more  than  any  of 
his  other  characters  of  women  or  men  a  mere  caricature.  Lady  Mary  was  unwise 
enough  to  venture  upon  retorts  which  have  by  no  means  added  to  her  literary 
fame.  As  she  ceased  to  reside  in  England  from  the  summer  of  1739,  the  most 
ignoble  warfare  of  Pope's  literary  life  then  came  to  a  natural  end. 

No  other  similar  relation  added  its  perturbation  to  the  agitations  of  Pope's  life. 
The  bevy  of  beautiful  maids  of  honour  who  adorned  the  court  of  the  Princess  of 
Wales  (where  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  time  of  his  residence  at  Chiswick) 
were  delighted  by  the  flatteries  of  his  versatile  wit.  And  rather  later,  from  1722 
to  '3,  a  passing  attachment  seems  to  have  occupied  his  imagination  towards  Miss 
Judith  Cowper,  which  appropriately  came  to  an  end  with  her  marriage  towards 
the  close  of  the  latter  year.^ 

Nor  were  brilliant  friendships  of  another  kind  formed  by  Pope  during  the 
period  of  his  residence  at  Chiswick,  able  to  detach  him  from  the  serious  business 
of  his  life.  The  heroes  of  fashion,  such  as  Lord  Peterborough,  the  hero  of  Bar- 
celona, and  the  dictators  of  taste,  such  as  Lord  Burlington,  made  him  welcome  in 
town  and  country;  and  he  followed  the  fashion  of  his  day  by  summer  excursions 
to  the  Bath.  Yet  it  was  far  from  an  idle  period  of  his  literary  life.  For  besides 
carrying  on  his  translation  of  the  Iliad^  he  found  time  to  produce  some  of  his  most 
finished  poetic  efforts,  among  them  the  Epistle  of  Eldisa  to  Abelard  (of  which  the 
address  appears  in  the  course  of  composition  to  have  been  transferred  from 
Martha  Blount  to  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu)  and  the  exquisite  Elegy  to  the 
Memory  of  an  Unfortunate  Lady. 

As  no  period  of  Pope's  life  was  without  its  quarrels,  so  that  of  his  residence  at 
Chiswick  was  disturbed  by  two  at  least  which  may  not  be  passed  over  in  a  nar- 
rative of  his  career.  In  1 716  he  first  came  into  the  hostile  contact  which  it  was, 
indeed,  difficult  for  any  author  of  note  to  avoid,  with  the  notorious  pirate-publisher 
Edmund  Curll.  It  was  the  invariable  practice  of  this  individual  to  publish  any 
piece  popularly  attributed  to  an  eminent  name,  in  an  unauthorised  edition  with 
that  name  attached  to  it.  He  had  adopted  this  course  with  a  series  of  very  com- 
mon-place burlesque  poems  called  the  Town- Eclogues,  of  which  only  one  had 
been  actually  written  by  Pope  himself.  Tlje  latter,  as  usual  irretentive  of  his  dig- 
nity, wrote  several  pamphlets  against  Curll,  of  which  the  first  is  the  Account  of  the 
Poisoning  of  Edmund  Curll;  a  coarse  burlesque  narrative  of  the  effects  produced 
upon  the  bookseller  by  a  half-pint  of  wine  drunk  by  him  in  Pope's  company, 

1  She  was   the  daughter  of  Judge  Spencer  Cowper  and  the  friend  and  correspondent  of  her 

Cowper,  and  the  niece  of  the  great  Chancellor;  cousin  the  poet,  she  transmitted  her  own  poetical 

she  married  Colonel  Madan;  and  to  their  daugh-  and     devout     spirit.      See    Hayley's    Life    of 

ter   Frances   Maria,  afterwards   wife  of  Major  William  Cowper, 


mTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xxxiii 

effects  actually  attributed  by  the  sufferer  to  the  malice  of  the  poet.  It  was  to  guard 
themselves  against  the  indefatigable  activity  of  Curll  that  Pope  and  Swift  after- 
wards published  their  Miscellanies  in  an  authorised  form;  and  the  same  publisher 
afterwards  put  forth  the  surreptitiously  obtained  correspondence  of  Pope  with 
Cromwell,  and  at  a  later  date  engaged  in  the  publication  of  his  letters  to  various 
friends,  abstracted,  as  Pope  declared,  by  equally  nefarious  means.^ 

Early  in  the  following  year  (171 7)  the  production  of  the  farce  of  Three  Hours 
after  Marriage^  in  which  Gay  had  been  assisted  by  Arbuthnot  and  Pope,  occa- 
sioned the  outbreak  of  a  quarrel  between  the  latter  and  Colley  Gibber.  The  farce 
itself  (Pope's  co-operation  in  which  constituted  his  solitary  dramatic  effort)  is  be- 
neath contempt.  Pope,  as  Gay  afterwards  admitted,  *  never  heartily  approved  of ' 
the  piece.  Nor  can  the  wit  of  those  parts  in  which  the  hand  of  Pope  is  clearly  dis- 
cernible, and  where  Dennis  is  caricatured  as  Sir  Tremendous,  and  literary  ladies  of 
the  day  under  other  names,  be  fairly  said  to  rise  above  the  level  of  the  remainder. 
The  play  was  however  damned  on  account  of  the  extravagant  nonsense  of  its  last  act, 
in  which  two  lovers  insert  themselves  respectively  into  the  skins  of  a  mummy  and  a 
crocodile.  The  Rehearsal,  a  play  always  used  (like  its  successor  the  Critic)  as  an 
opportunity  for  introducing  gag  on  popular  topics  of  the  day,  happened  to  be  per- 
formed shortly  afterwards.  GoUey  Gibber  on  this  occasion  introduced  an  allusion 
to  the  unhappy  mummy  and  crocodile.  Pope,  whose  presence  in  the  theatre  may 
have  added  to  the  effect  of  the  allusion,  sharply  inveighed  against  the  actor  behind 
the  scenes;  and  the  latter  not  unnaturally  swore  to  repeat  the  joke  on  every  future 
occasion.  To  this  episode  Gibber  in  his  Apology  attributes  the  origin  of  Pope's 
animosity  against  him.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  production  towards  the 
close  of  the  year  of  Gibber's  Non-Juror  (so  successful  an  attack  upon  Jacobites 
and  concealed  Papists  that  a  patriotic  pamphlet  of  the  day  desired  to  see  it  as  com- 
mon in  every  house  as  a  Prayer-book  or  Whole  Duty  of  Man)  added  a  worthier 
cause  of  anger  in  Pope's  mind  against  the  future  laureate  of  King  George  II. 

Thus,  amidst  studies  and  diversions  Pope's  life  continued  until  the  death  of  his 
father,  which  took  place  at  Ghiswick  in  October  171 7.  The  blow  was  keenly  felt 
by  the  son  whom  he  left  to  mourn  his  loss.  To  his  father,  as  we  have  seen,  Pope 
owed  much  beyond  the  discreet  liberality  which  had  allowed  him  to  choose  his  own 
path  in  life,  and  enabled  him  in  his  early  years  to  pursue  his  favourite  studies.  For 
to  his  father  he  was  indebted  for  the  example  of  a  moral  uprightness  which  in  the 
main  he  endeavoured  faithfully  to  follow;  and  for  the  noble  lesson  of  adherence  to 
a  persecuted  creed.  After  his  father's  death  Pope  might  have  abandoned  the  pro- 
fession of  the  Gatholic  faith;  and  exchanged  a  Ghurch  with  whose  tenets  he  can 
hardly  be  supposed  to  have  entertained  an  intellectual  sympathy,  for  one  towards 
which  he  was  urged  by  the  representations  of  venerated  friends.  But  in  answer 
to  Atterbury's  arguments  he  simply  appealed  to  his  consideration  for  his  remaining 

1  Sm  bekw,  p.  xl. 


xxxiv  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

parent;  and  honoured  himself  by  maintaining  a  consistent  attitude  of  respectful 
submission  to  the  Church  of  his  father  and  mother,  in  which  there  was  perhaps 
more  true  philosophy  than  in  the  indignation  expressed  by  Bolingbroke  when  imme- 
diately after  his  friend's  death  he  learnt  that  the  latter  had  accepted  the  ministra- 
tions of  a  priest.  '  I  am,'  Pope  writes  to  Swift  in  1729,  *  of  the  religion  of  Erasmus, 
a  Catholic;  so  I  live,  so  I  shall  die;  and  hope  one  day  to  meet  you.  Bishop  Atter- 
bury,  the  younger  Craggs,  Dr.  Garth,  Dean  Berkeley,  and  Mr.  Hutchenson  in 
heaven.'     No  fuller  exposition  seems  required,  after  this,  of  his  religious  views. 

Very  soon  after  his  father's  death  Pope,  whose  means  were  now  ample  for  one 
who  had  to  provide  only  for  the  maintenance  of  himself  and  his  mother,  removed 
with  her  from  Chiswick  to  Twickenham.  In  the  latter  place,  whose  name  will 
ever  be  associated  with  his  own,  he  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life. 


VI. 

Pope  took  up  his  residence  at  Twickenham  early  in  17 18,  after  purchasing  the 
lease  of  a  house  and  five  acres  of  land  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  The  house 
itself  he  left  very  much  the  simple  habitation  he  had  found  it;  but  the  garden  and 
grounds  he  laid  out  with  enthusiastic  care.  Landscape  gardening  was  one  of  the 
passions  of  the  age;  and  for  horticulture  in  general  Pope  had  conceived  a  taste 
from  the  days  of  his  childhood  on  the  borders  of  Windsor  Forest.  But  Le  Notre 
or  CapabiUty  Brown  himself  would  have  found  their  genius  cramped  by  the 
dimensions  of  Pope's  estate;  and  the  dream  of  his  youth  for  'woods,  gardens, 
rookeries,  fish-ponds,  arbours'  had  to  be  satisfied  with  the  fulfilment  of  its  more 
modest  items.  Yet  he  contrived,  according  to  the  enumeration  of  one  of  his 
biographers,^  to  introduce  into  his  five  acres  *  a  shell  temple,  a  large  mount,  a  vine- 
yard, two  small  mounts,  a  bowling-green,  a  wilderness,  a  grove,  an  orangery,  a 
garden-house,  and  kitchen-garden.'  The  favourite  object  of  his  efforts  however 
was  the  famous  'grotto,'  in  reality  a  tunnel  beneath  the  turnpike  road  which 
divided  the  two  parts  of  the  garden.  It  contained  a  spring  and  could  accord- 
ingly be  credited  with  a  nymph;  and  in  its  diminutive  recesses  were  distributed  a 
variety  of  eccentric  ornaments  such  as  are  in  our  own  day  reserved  for  the  admira- 
tion of  children  in  seaside  lodging-houses :  shells  and  spars  and  what  Dr.  Johnson 
calls  *  fossil  bodies,'  and  a  hundred  natural  curiosities  with  which  the  master  of 
the  grotto  was  gratified  by  his  friends  and  admirers. 

The  Twickenham  grotto  and  gardens  became  one  of  the  delights  of  Pope's  life; 
here  he  received  the  visits  of  his  friends  and  dispensed  his  temperate  hospitality. 
The  convenient  situation  of  Twickenham  made  it  unnecessary  for  him  to  vary 
the  even  tenour  of  his  outward  life  by  more  than  occasional  visits  to  his  friends  in 
town  and  country;  he  was  at  no  great  distance  from  Mapledurham,  the  Wortley 

^  Carrutbers* 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xxxv 

Montagus  took  up  their  residence  at  Twickenham  itself ;  Lord  Peterborough  was 
resting  from  his  labours  at  Fulham,  Lord  Burlington  owned  a  box  at  Chiswick, 
and  after  a  time  Bolingbroke  was  to  settle  at  Dawley  near  Uxbridge.  That  in  his 
rural  retreat  Pope  was  not  out  of  the  world,  he  proved  in  1720,  the  year  of  the 
South  Sea  bubble.  There  seems  every  reason  to  conclude  that  he  withdrew  his 
investments  in  time  to  save  part  of  his  gains.  He  could  not,  indeed,  rest  doubly 
content,  like  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  at  having  condemned  the  scheme  from  the  out- 
set and  afterwards  sold  out  at  the  highest  price.^  But  he  had  no  reason  to  lament 
for  himself  the  effects  of  a  catastrophe  which  brought  ruin  to  some  among  his 
friends,  and  dishonour  to  others. 

At  Twickenham  the  Iliad  was  completed;  and  henceforth  Pope's  name  was 
eagerly  sought  by  the  booksellers.  Before  he  had  commenced  the  translation  of 
the  Odyssey,  he  was  induced  to  undertake  an  edition  of  Shakspere  which  was  pub- 
lished by  Tonson  in  1725.  Its  failure  was  perhaps  more  decided  than  it  deserved; 
but  its  defects  were  sufficient  to  warrant  many  of  the  cavils  advanced  against  it  in 
haste  by  Lewis  Theobald,  who  thereby  established  himself  as  one  of  Pope's  ad- 
versaries, and  brought  down  upon  himself  the  most  signal  vengeance  ever  inflicted 
upon  an  unfriendly  critic.     He  was  soon  afterwards  made  the  hero  of  the  Dunciad. 

For  the  number  of  Pope's  assailants  had  increased  with  his  fame;  and  it  only 
needed  encouragement  from  without  to  induce  him  to  give  vent  to  the  wrath  which 
had  long  been  accumulating  in  his  sensitive  mind.  He  entertained  a  genuine  hatred 
of  the  petty  scribblers  who  infested  the  literary  atmosphere;  no  less  than  a  personal 
feeling  of  vengefulness  against  many  of  their  number.  In  1726  Swift  spent  four 
months  with  Pope  at  Twickenham,  and  repeated  his  visit  in  1727.  Swift's  genius 
was  at  this  time  at  its  height.  His  mind  was  already  oppressed  by  the  presenti- 
ment of  its  coming  overthrow;  and  his  heart  torn  by  the  constant  ill  health  of 
Stella,  which  early  in  1728  was  to  terminate  in  her  death.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  his 
gloom  and  of  the  bitterness  arising  from  the  certainty  that  no  hopes  existed  for 
his  preferment  in  England,  he  was  elated  by  the  triumphant  results  of  his  self-sus- 
tained campaign  against  the  oppressors  of  Ireland,  and  strong  in  the  sense  of  a 
power  more  real  than  that  which  he  had  possessed  when  he  believed  himself  to  be 
dictating  the  policy  of  the  Oxford  ministry.  Gloom,  anger  and  pride  combined  to 
inspire  the  greatest  of  Swift's  —  the  greatest  of  modern,  —  satires;  and  in  the  late 
autumn  of  1726  Gulliver^ s  Travels  took  the  world  by  storm.  In  the  same  year 
and  in  the  following  Swift  and  Pope  brought  out  three  volumes  of  their  Miscel- 
lanies; and  during  his  converse  with  his  friends  the  former  suggested  the  idea  of 
the  Beggar's  Opera  to  Gay,  and  encouraged  Pope  to  proceed  with  the  Dunciad?- 

The  Miscellanies  contained,  among  many  of  Pope's  pieces  which  he  had  better 

1  See  Lord  Stanhope's  History  of  England  Opera  hath  knocked  down  Gulliver;  I  hope  to 
from  the  Peace  of  Utrecht^  chap.  xi.  see  Pope's  Dulness  knock  down  the  Beggar's 

2  Swift,  who  was  entirely  above  literary  envy,    Opera,  but  not  till  it  hath  fully  done  its  job.' 
writes  to  Gay  (Nov.  23,  1727) :  *  The  Beggar's 


xxxvi  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

have  left  in  the  obscurity  of  unauthorised  pubHcations,  his  Treatise  on  the  Bathos 
or  Art  of  Sinking  in  Poetry ^  which  was  founded  on  the  old  idea  of  the  Scribblerus 
club.  It  is  in  my  opinion  by  far  the  most  successful  of  Pope's  prose  satires,  and 
evinces  the  extraordinary  facility  with  which  he  was  able  to  develop  ideas  origi- 
nally suggested  to  him  by  other  minds.  It  pilloried  the  whole  tribe  of  poetasters 
whose  names  \hQ  DunciadyN2S  afterwards  to  preserve,  nailed  to  the  post  by  quota- 
tions from  their  own  works.  The  chief,  or  at  all  events,  the  tenderest  victim  was 
Ambrose  Phillips,  who  resorted  to  the  cautious  revenge  of  hanging  up  a  rod  in 
the  Whig  sanctum  at  Button's  for  the  chastisement  of  the  offender,  should  he  ever 
make  his  appearance  there.  The  Treatise  on  the  Bathos  would  be  more  frequently 
read  and  enjoyed  than  it  is,  had  not-  its  victims  soon  afterwards  been  subjected  to 
another,  and  yet  more  classical  castigation.  The  Dunciad  seems  to  have  been 
first  published  in  May  1728;  and  the  enlarged  edition  which  followed  a  few 
months  later  was  dedicated  to  the  true  foster-father  of  the  work,  to  Swift. ^ 

There  is  no  necessity  for  entering  at  length  into  the  effect  which  this  unparal- 
leled satire  created,  and  the  endless  warfare  into  which  by  its  publication  Pope 
had  with  full  consciousness  plunged.  He  had  proposed  to  himself  to  lash  unmer- 
cifully all  the  bad  writers  of  the  day,  and  among  their  number  he  included  all  his 
personal  enemies  or  those  whom  he  accounted  as  such.  The  wasps  whose  nests 
he  had  thus  heroically  stirred  were  around  his  head  at  once;  Theobald  more  like 
a  humble-bee  than  a  wasp,  with  a  heavy  but  honest  protest;  Dennis  and  his  peers 
with  an  avowed  intention  to  infuse  into  their  stings  all  the  venom  which  their 
natures  could  spare.  Inferior  but  equally  irrepressible  combatants  each  contrib- 
uted his  buzz  to  the  general  sabbath  of  the  Dunces.  And  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montagu,  by  this  time  unhappily  included  in  the  ever  extending  canon  of  Pope's 
adversaries,  was  believed  to  have  contributed  the  feeblest  retort  of  all,  a  silly 
squib  entitled  a  Pop  upon  Pope,  containing  an  account  of  an  imaginary  whipping 
administered  to  the  poet  at  Twickenham,  with  the  feminine  adjunct  of  a  sneer  at 
his  friendship  with  Martha  Blount. 

The  conflict  which  Pope  had  provoked,  it  was  in  accordance  with  his  nature 
to  prolong  almost  indefinitely.  The  Dunciad,  instead  of  remaining  his  last  word 
against  the  Dunces,  was  supplemented  by  a  series  of  lighter  attacks  in  the  Grubstreet 
Journal^  which  for  eight  years  (1730-7)  made  war  upon  the  enemies  of  true  litera- 
ture and  Pope.  Many  of  the  epigrams  which  he  furnished  to  this  weekly  periodi- 
cal will  be  found  among  the  Miscellanies  at  the  close  of  the  present  volume;  several 
other  pieces  are  with  much  probability,  though  not  with  absolute  certainty,  attrib- 
uted to  him.  At  all  events  he' directed  the  judgments  of  the  'Knights  of  the 
Bathos,'  as  the  critics  of  this  journal  called  themselves,  who  turned  their  more  or 
less  righteous  indignation  against  the  victims  of  the  Dunciad,  down  to  Henley  the 
butchers'  lecturer  and  Ward  the  quack.     In  one  case  only,  that  of  Aaron  Hill,  the 

^  See  Introductory  Remarks  to  the  Dunciad. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xxxvii 

dramatist  whom  Pope  had  correctly  attacked  in  the  Dtmciad,  was  a  reconciliation 
brought  about  by  the  determination  of  the  former,  and  an  instance  afforded  of  the 
timidity  occasionally  displayed  by  Pope  when  driven  home  by  a  resolute  opponent. 

VII. 

But  while  these  petty  combats  still  continued  to  occupy  a  share  of  the  poet's 
time  and  attention,  he  was  already  passing  under  the  new  influence  of  an  old 
acquaintance,  into  what  may  be  termed  the  third  phase  of  his  literary  life.  In  the 
school  of  Addison  Pope  had  learnt  to  cultivate  that  correctness  of  form  which  ac- 
corded with  the  leanings  of  his  own  mind  and  the  influences  of  his  boyish  studies; 
and  gracefully  to  mingle  the  reminiscences  of  a  classical  education  with  a  careful 
observation  of  the  characteristics  of  existing  society.  In  the  school  of  Swift,  again 
assimilating  the  influences  which  he  admitted  to  the  tendencies  of  his  own  indi- 
viduality, he  had  imbibed  that  bitter  hatred  of  the  petty  and  trivial,  and  adopted 
that  principle  of  conducting  every  personal  dispute  as  if  its  end  must  be  the  ex- 
tinction of  his  adversary,  which  had  substituted  for  the  elegant  refinements  of  the 
Essay  on  Criticism  and  the  suave  irony  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock  the  scathing  in- 
vectives of  the  Dunciad,  From  Bolingbroke  he  believed  that  he  learnt  the  secrets 
of  a  philosophy  of  which  he  had  long  been  a  half-conscious  adherent;  what  he 
really  gained,  was  a  habit  of  closer  and  more  accurately  classified  observation,  a 
nearer  acquaintance  with  the  machinery  rather  than  the  principles  of  political  life, 
and  a  fuller  insight  into  the  characters  of  public  men. 

Pope  had  seen  little  personally  of  Bolingbroke  before  the  flight  of  the  latter 
into  France,  in  1715.  On  the  exile's  first  return  in  1723  the  only  members  of  the 
old  literary  circle  whom  he  found  in  England,  were  Pope,  Congreve,  Arbuthnot 
and  Gay.i  This  short  stay  sufficed  to  disabuse  Bolingbroke  of  his  hopes  of  imme- 
diate political  rehabilitation;  and  he  accordingly  writes  to  Swift  from  London  to 
assure  him  that  *  his  philosophy  grew  confirmed  by  habit,'  and  that  he  considers 
himself  a  hermit  in  comparison  with  Pope.  Upon  the  latter  this  lofty  resignation, 
with  which  Bolingbroke  at  times  imposed  upon  himself  as  well  as  his  friends, 
must  have  made  a  deep  impression.  In  1725  Bolingbroke  was  again  in  England, 
this  time  (according  to  his  own  expression)  'two-thirds  restored.' 2  As  his  father 
still  persisted  in  remaining  alive,  he  purchased  a  house  for  himself  at  Dawley  near 
Uxbridge  in  Middlesex.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Swift  on  his  visit  to  England 
in  1726  found  the  most  brilliant  members  of  his  ancient  clique  once  more  in 
familiar  union,  and  Bolingbroke  and  Pope,  with  Gay  and  Arbuthnot,  passing  to 
and  fro  between  Dawley  and  Twickenham. 

^  Swift  was  in  Ireland;  Atterbury  was  exiled         2  jje  was  enabled  to  hold  his  estates,  but 

in  this  year;  '  it  is  sure  my  ill  fate,'  writes  Pope  not  freed  from  the  consequences  of  the  Act  of 

to   Swift   in   announcing  Bolingbroke's  return,  Attainder   which   prevented   his    taking  public 

*  that  all  those  I  most  loved,  and  with  whom  1  office  or  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords.     His 

most  lived,  must  be  banished.'    Of  lesser  men,  father,  an  old  roue  of  the  Restoration,  lived  to 

Prior  had  died  in  1721  and  Parnell  in  1718.  the  age  of  ninety. 


xxxviii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

To  us  the  delusiveness  of  Bolingbroke's  repeated  observations,  that  he  had  now 
become  a  retired  philosopher,  are  transparent  enough.  '  Satis  beatus  ruris  hono- 
ribus '  was  the  inscription  over  the  porch  of  the  house  in  which  he  dispensed  his 
rural  hospitality.  But  we  know  that  Bolingbroke  had  only  applied  himself  to  philo- 
sophical studies  as  alternatives  to  the  tedium  of  his  enforced  leisure  in  France.  In 
the  more  stirring  atmosphere  of  his  native  country  he  soon  re-assumed  a  more 
familiar  character,  and  began  to  contribute  partisan  papers  to  the  Craftsman  and  to 
intrigue  for  the  overthrow  of  Walpole.  But  in  Pope's  eyes  an  indescribable  charm 
attached  to  the  society  and  personality  of  this  unrepentant  Alcibiades.  As  Boling- 
broke discoursed  to  him  on  his  system  of  natural  theology,  clear  and  shallow  as  the 
streamlet  in  the  grotto  where  they  sat,  and  communicated  to  him  those  Essays 
which  he  never  had  the  courage  to  publish,  the  mind  of  his  friend  became  imbued 
with  enough  of  the  facile  lesson  to  make  him  in  his  own  belief  the  disciple  of  an 
exhaustive  system,  while  he  was  in  reality  only  the  acolyte  of  a  sophist  and  a  man 
of  the  world.  Thus  Bolingbroke  devised  for  Pope,  or  Pope  devised  with  Boling- 
broke's direct  aid,  the  scheme  of  his  Essay  on  Man.  It  was  published  in  instal- 
ments of  four  epistles  during  the  years  1732-4;  and  already,  under  the  same  in- 
fluence. Pope  was  contemplating  the  development  of  the  plan  of  which  the  Essay 
formed  part,  and  into  which  Warburton  was  ultimately  to  help  him  to  fit  in  his 
other  epistles,  partly  subsequent  in  date,  but  partly  also  antecedent,  to  the  Essay. 
The  dates  of  these  Epistles  are  given  in  their  place;  among  the  personages  to  whom 
they  were  addressed  are  most  of  the  noblemen  and  gentlemen  with  whom  Pope, 
at  his  own  house  or  in  visits  to  their  seats,  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  friendly  inter- 
course :  Lords  Burlington,  Bathurst  and  Cobham,  all  in  politics  opposed  to  the 
existing  administration,  and  rising  lawyers  like  Fortescue  and  Murray. 

He  had  now  at  last  found  the  species  of  composition  best  adapted  to  his  literary 
genius.  The  satire  of  characters,  not  the  direct  inculcation  of  philosophical  prin- 
ciples, continued  to  employ  his  pen,  when,  in  consequence  of  a  suggestion  of 
Bolingbroke's,  he  began  his  Imitations  of  Horace^  in  which  the  brilliancy  of  his 
Moral  Essays  was  equalled  and  their  pungency  sustained.  In  all  these  produc- 
tions he  was  once  more  able  to  range  his  friends  and  foes  opposite  to  one  another 
like  the  children  of  light  and  the  children  of  darkness;  but  his  attacks  were  no 
longer  directed  against  Grubstreet  and  Newport-market,  but  boldly  ranged  to  the 
highest  in  the  land.  Personal  enemies  such  as  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  and 
Lord  Hervey  were  tortured  in  the  presence  of  their  peers;  and  where  his  own 
political  indifference  might  have  left  him  silent,  the  disappointments  of  Swift  and 
Bolingbroke,  and  the  traditional  hatreds  of  a  party  with  which  he  had  unconsciously 
identified  himself,  inspired  him  to  Alcaeic  invective.  The  old  Duchess  of  Marl- 
borough, it  can  hardly  be  doubted,  had  to  buy  off  his  attacks  upon  the  memory  of 
her  husband,  if  not  upon  her  own  character  and  antecedents.  The  omnipotent 
minister  himself  was  only  spared  afterhe  had  rendered  a  personal  service  to  the 
poet.     As  his  shafts  flew  higher  and  higher,  they  ventured  to  touch  the  sacred 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xxxix 

personages  of  royalty  itself.  With  the  court  of  King  George  II.  or  Queen  Caroline, 
Pope  (though  no  hopes  of  his  own  had  ever  been  disappointed  by  them)  had  long 
ceased  to  be  on  friendly  terms;  and  now  he  dared  to  deride  the  one  as  a  mock 
Augustus,  and  pursue  the  other  with  his  sneers  even  to  her  deathbed.^  At  last 
he  contrived  to  bring  upon  himself  the  danger,  or  at  all  events  the  menace,  of  a 
prosecution.  Possibly  the  timidity  which  he  sometimes  exhibited  in  the  face  of 
extreme  measures  may  have  been  judiciously  worked  upon;  at  all  events  he  aban- 
doned all  further  exploration  of  this  vein  with  the  year  1738;  and  the  fragment 
called  *  1 740,'  supposing  it  to  have  been  his  own,  was  hardly  destined  for  other 
than  private  or  posthumous  circulation.  Being  in  disfavour  with  the  Court  of 
St.  James',  Pope  was  of  course  in  favour  with  that  of  Leicester  House,  where 
Frederick  Prince  of  Wales  cast  around  him  dubious  shadows  of  a  future  golden 
age.  But  the  latter  relation  exercised  no  influence  upon  the  remaining  phases  of 
his  poetic  productivity.  Prince  Frederick  sent  busts  for  the  Twickenham  library, 
and  urns  for  the  Twickenham  grounds;  and  his  suite  were  civil  to  the  writer  who 
had  known  how  to  annoy  their  master's  father;  and  this,  said  Pope,  *is  all  I  ask 
from  courtiers,  and  all  a  wise  man  will  expect  from  them.' 

In  noting  some  of  the  circumstances  connected  with  Pope's  activity  as  a  satirist 
of  men  and  women  in  exalted  spheres,  we  have,  however,  anticipated  the  few  events 
which  interfered  with  the  even  tenour  of  his  private  life  between  the  years  1730 
and  '40.  This  life  was  neither  that  of  a  man  of  fashion  nor  that  of  a  recluse.  Visits 
to  the  friends  already  mentioned,  and  to  Lord  Peterborough  at  Bevis  Mount,  and 
to  the  worthy  Ralph  Allen  at  Widcombe  near  Bath,  merely  diversified  the  tran- 
quillity of  his  life  at  home,  where  till  1733  he  tended  the  old  age  of  his  mother. 
In  a  postscript  to  one  of  Bolingbroke's  letters  to  Swift,  written  in  1731,  Pope 
speaks  in  touching  terms  of  her  gradual  decline,  and  of  his  gratitude  to  Heaven 
for  having  preserved  her  to  him  so  long.  She  died  in  1733,  in  the  ninety-third 
year  of  her  age.  In  the  following  year  Pope  had  to  mourn  the  loss  of  his  dearly- 
loved  friend  Arbuthnot,  to  whom  he  had  only  shortly  before  addressed  the  Epistle 
which,  published  after  Arbuthnot's  death,  bore  public  record  to  the  friendship 
which  united  them.  The  generation  of  the  Augustans  was  rapidly  passing  away; 
and  Pope,  whose  literary  career  had  commenced  at  so  precocious  a  date  in  his  life, 
might  feel  himself  old  before  his  time.  With  the  younger  poets  he  showed  much 
kindly  sympathy;  upon  Thomson  he  bestowed  a  friendly  patronage ;2  Young  whose 
earlier  poems  had  displayed  many  characteristics  common  to  his  own  genius  had 
commended  himself  by  two  Epistles  published  in  1730  against  the  assailants  of  the 
Dunciad ;  and  to  a  very  different  poet,  the  unhappy  Savage,  Pope  at  a  somewhat 
later  date  (1742)  proved  himself  a  generous  benefactor.  But  his  old  friendships 
were  being  fast  extinguished  in  death;   and  his  last  letter  to  Swift  was  written 


1  Epil.  to  Satires  Dial.  i.  w.  79—81. 

*  On  the  occasion  of  the  production  of  Thomson's  tragedy  di  Agamemnon  in  1738. 


xl  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR, 

early  in  1 740.  Even  before  that  time  the  mind  of  the  latter  had  been  so  darkened 
as  to  make  a  regular  continuance  of  the  correspondence  impossible.  In  his  great 
friend's  unhappy  mind  the  stronger  demon  had  at  last  laid  the  weaker;  and  Pope 
was  no  longer  to  be  invigorated  by  the  intellectual  embrace  of  the  greatest  of  his 
associates.     Swift  remained  a  hopeless  lunatic  till  his  death  in  1745. 

As  Pope  gradually  saw  the  last  of  those  who  had  encouraged  his  juvenile  efforts 
and  welcomed  the  triumphs  of  his  early  manhood,  passing  away  before  him,  it  is 
not  strange  that  he  should  have  thought  of  collecting  the  memorials  of  a  brilliant 
past,  in  the  shape  of  such  of  his  correspondence  as  he  had  preserved,  or  could 
contrive  to  recover.  His  letters  to  Cromwell,  as  we  have  seen,  had  already  been 
published  without  his  consent  by  the  unscrupulous  Curll  in  1 726.  They  had  not, 
we  may  rest  assured,  been  intended  by  Pope  for  publication;  and  as  this  proceed- 
ing had  been  effected  without  his  consent,  no  opportunity  had  been  afforded  him 
for  controlling  the  arrangement  of  the  letters.  But  in  1735,  when  Pope  had  col- 
lected a  large  number  of  letters  of  himself  and  his  friends  and  deposited  them  in 
his  friend  Lord  Oxford's  library,  the  literary  world  was  startled  by  the  publication, 
again  through  Curll's  agency,  of  a  collection  of  Pope's  correspondence  with  various 
personages,  including  several  of  noble  rank.  These  letters  Curll  declared  to  have 
been  delivered  to  him  by  an  unknown  personage,  attired  half  as  a  clergyman  half 
as  a  lawyer,  who  had  without  stating  his  authority  offered  them  for  sale,  and  had 
after  receiving  the  price,  departed  without  further  parley.  Great  indignation  was 
manifested  by  several  of  Pope's  noble  correspondents  at  the  announcement  of  this 
publication;  and  the  printer  and  publisher  were  summoned  before  the  House  of 
Lords  and  examined  before  a  committee.  Pope  offered  a  trifling  reward  (;^2o) 
for  the  discovery  of  any  person  engaged  in  the  transaction,  and  published  in  the 
London  Gazette  of  July  15th,  1735,  a  statement  to  the  effect  that  he  found  himself 
driven  in  self-defence  to  publish  on  his  own  account  such  of  the  letters  as  were 
genuine.  The  authorised  edition  accordingly  made  its  appearance  in  1737.  In  its 
preface  and  in  the  *True  Narrative  of  the  method  by  which  Pope's  letters  have 
been  published '  (a  paper  doubtless  drawn  up  by  Pope  at  the  same  time)  it  was 
stated  that  he  had  recalled  from  his  several  correspondents  the  letters  formerly 
written  to  them  and  caused  MS.  copies  of  these  to  be  drawn  up  and  deposited  in 
Lord  Oxford's  library.  (According  to  the  True  Nai'rative  these  copies  were 
interspersed  with  some  of  the  originals  themselves.) 

But  since,  on  a  comparison  of  Curll's  with  the  authorised  edition,  it  becomes 
evident  that  both  were  made  from  the  same  original,  both  presenting  in  certain  cases 
the  same  variations  from  the  letters  as  originally  addressed  to  Pope's  correspondents, 
a  choice  between  two  alternatives  is  left  to  us.  Either  Curll's  mysterious  purveyor 
had  obtained  access  to  Lord  Oxford's  library  and  transcribed  the  letters  en  masse  ; 
or.  Pope  himself  had  supplied  Curll  with  copies.  On  the  latter  supposition,  the 
entire  proceeding  was  one  of  his  intricate  manoeuvres  in  order  to  obtain  notoriety 
for  his  letters,  and  by  the  spurious^  publication  to  benefit  the  sale  of  the  intended 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xli 

genuine  one.  The  former  alternative  involves  an  obvious  improbability;  the  lattei 
is  supported  by  the  circumstance  since  ascertained,^  that  Pope  had  withdrawn  the 
letters  from  Lord  Oxford's  library  in  the  spring  of  1735.  This  discovery  seems  at 
first  sight  to  tend  towards  the  conclusion  that  Pope  had  entertained  the  idea  of 
publishing  the  letters  before  Curll's  venture  saw  the  light.  In  this  case  Pope's 
edition  of  his  letters  cannot  have  been  brought  out  in  sheer  self-defence. 

The  question  (which  continues  to  constitute  one  of  the  cruces  of  which  the  life 
of  Pope  is  so  prolific)  remains  in  its  original  difficulty.  It  is  certain  that  Pope  had 
allowed  himself  to  alter  the  letters  in  every  possible  way  from  the  form  in  which 
they  were  originally  written,  by  additions  and  omissions  and  variations.  Yet  this 
is  insufficient  to  prove  his  intention  of  publishing  them.  He  could  not  at  any  time 
keep  any  printed  or  written  thing  by  him  without  revising  it  and  altering  it  for  the 
better  or  the  worse;  whether  it  was  his  own  (as  in  the  case  of  the  Rape  of  the  Lock 
and  the  Duitciad^  and  numerous  passages  afterwards  incorporated  in  his  Satires), 
or  whether  it  was  another  man's,  (as  in  the  notable  case,  to  be  mentioned  below, 
of  Bolingbroke's  letters  On  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism  &c.).  A  grave  suspicion  rests 
however  upon  the  straightforward  character  of  his  conduct  in  this  transaction; 
unhappily  not  the  only  case  connected  with  the  publication  of  his  works  which 
continues  obscure  and  doubtful. 

As  Pope's  letters  remain  to  us,  they  are  not,  with  the  exception  of  those  to 
Cromwell  and  of  those  which  have  been  preserved  in  MS.,  spontaneous  effiisions. 
His  letters  to  Lady  Mary  at  the  same  time  prove  that  even  as  he  wrote  at  the 
time,  he  wrote  with  affectation.  But  in  editing  his  correspondence,  he  succeeded 
in  depriving  it  of  every  vestige  of  natural  freshness.  A  letter  which  is  written 
with  one  eye  to  the  person  addressed,  and  the  other  to  the  public  beyond,  pos- 
sesses no  charm  apart  from  all  other  literary  compositions.  Yet  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  Pope  could  ever  have  excelled  in  a  branch  of  writing  where  genius  can 
claim  no  monopoly  of  excellence.  His  pen  could  have  never  strayed  into  the 
*  little  language  *  of  Swift;  or  rushed  along  with  the  reckless  vigour  of  Byron;  still 
less  could  it  have  matched  in  sweet  simplicity  the  epistolary  style  of  Cowper;  but 
he  was  even  without  Horace  Walpole's  ability  for  telling  a  story.  Yet  his  prose  in 
itself  is  unaffected  and  clear;  and  though  far  from  approaching  that  of  Swift  in 
strength  or  that  of  Addison  in  beauty,  is  free  from  an  undue  affectation  of  classi- 
cisms, and  from  other  peculiarities  of  an  impotent  grandiloquence. 

1  See  Johnson's  Livei  of  the  Poets,  Cunningham's  edition.  Vol.  ni.  p.  13,  cited  by  Carruthers 


xlii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR, 

VIII. 

In  1739  Bolingbroke  sold  Dawley;  and  though  he  continued  in  frequent  con- 
nexion  with  the  Marcellus  of  his  hopes  at  Leicester  House,  and  with  Pope  at 
Twickenham,  he  was  frequently  absent  in  France.  It  was  not  till  1742  that  the 
death  of  Bolingbroke's  father  established  him  in  his  paternal  domain  at  Battersea; 
while  the  overthrow  of  Walpole  in  the  same  year  caused  him  for  the  last  time  to 
hope  for  an  after-summer  of  political  power.  It  was  perhaps  the  bitterest  drop 
in  the  full  cup  of  the  ambitious  intriguer's  disappointments,  to  find  that  his  own 
party  treated  him  with  respectful  neglect,  and  that  he  was  politely  set  aside  as  an 
interesting  but  useless  specimen  of  '  narrative  old  age.' 

Although  after  Bolingbroke's  removal  from  Dawley  his  friendship  with  Pope 
continued  unbroken,  the  latter  was  gradually  passing  under  the  influence  of  another 
mind.  Warburton,  the  presiding  genius  of  the  closing  period  of  Pope's  life,  had 
approached  him  in  the  humble  attitude  of  an  interpreter  offering  his  services  to  a 
misunderstood  philosopher.  The  career  of  Warburton  offers  a  cheering  instance 
of  the  success  of  a  man  determined  from  the  first  to  succeed.  He  had  marked  out 
the  English  Church  and  English  literature  as  the  avenues  likely  to  lead  to  eminence 
and  emolument;  and  both  were  opened  to  him  in  accordance  with  his  speculations. 
By  asserting  himself  as  one  of  the  pillars  of  orthodoxy,  and  coming  forward  as  an 
aid  to  faith  just  at  the  close  of  the  struggle  between  the  Church  and  her  deistical 
opponents,  he  ultimately  obtained  the  bishopric  of  Gloucester  as  his  temporal  re- 
ward. In  literature  he  knew  how  to  claim  saints  as  well  as  to  expose  sinners; 
and  thus  he  had,  at  an  early  point  of  his  career,  recommended  himself  to  Pope's 
notice  by  a  volunteer  attempt  to  bring  the  author  of  the  Essay  on  Man  and  pupil 
of  Bolingbroke  into  harmony  with  orthodox  Anglicanism,  and  to  defend  him 
against  the  arguments  of  a  French  professor  (de  Crousaz)  who  had  maintained 
Spinozism  to  be  the  logical  outcome  of  the  poet's  system.  Pope  gratefully  ac- 
cepted the  service;  and  his  slight  personal  acquaintance  with  Warburton  soon 
developed  into  a  close  intimacy.  Warburton  played  a  far  more  important  part  in 
connexion  with  Pope  than  that  which  men  of  genius  in  their  decline  have  fre- 
quently permitted  to  assiduous  admirers.  He  not  only  proclaimed,  but  inter- 
preted, the  utterances  of  his  oracle.  By  him  all  Pope's  later  works  were  arranged 
under  a  neat  and  comprehensive  system;  and  so  well  was  the  poet  contented  with 
this  re-arrangement  of  himself,  that  he  entrusted  to  one  who  understood  him 
almost  better  than  himself  the  collected  edition  of  his  works  commenced  towards 
the  close  of  his  life.  And  in  his  will  he  left  to  Warburton  the  property  of  all  such 
of  his  works  as  the  former  had  furnished,  or  shotild  furnishy  with  commentaries. 

Yet  even  a  righteous  victory  is  not  always  gained  at  once.  Pope  seems  to  have 
oscillated  between  the  influence  exerted  over  him  by  Warburton  and  the  still  un- 
exhausted fascination  of  Bolingbroke.  The  indefatigable  activity  of  Warburton, 
and  the  nervous  weakness  of  Pope's  declining  health,  were  in  favour  of  the  former. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xUii 

A.n  attempt  on  the  part  of  Murray  (in  the  style  of  the  late  Mr.  Rogers)  to  reconcile 
the  two  conflicting  influences  by  inviting  Warburton  and  Bolingbroke  to  meet  at 
his  table,  led  to  no  result  except  agitating  Pope,  who  was  of  the  party.  *  He  was 
obliged,'  he  exclaimed,  after  listening  to  an  animated  contest  between  the  two,  *  to 
be  of  the  opinion  of  both  the  antagonists,  since  the  one  was  his  teacher  and  the 
other  his  apologist;   since  the  one  thought,  and  the  other  answered  for  him.'  ^ 

But  this  incident  occurred  only  a  few  months  before  the  death  of  Pope.  How- 
ever much  he  may  have  fallen  under  the  influence  of  Warburton  (and  such  was  the 
value  which  he  set  upon  his  friend  that  he  refused  an  honorary  degree  offered  to 
him  by  the  University  of  Oxford,  because  it  was  not  offered  to  Warburton,  who 
accompanied  him  on  his  visit  to  the  University,  at  the  same  time),  upon  the  liter- 
ary activity  of  Pope's  closing  years  it  acted  as  a  stimulant.  The  fourth  book  of  the 
Dunciad,  which  Pope  published  in  1741,  would,  as  he  expressly  declared,  never 
have  been  written  but  for  the  suggestive  influence  of  his  friend.  It  betrayed  no 
falling  off  in  power  of  expression;  but  to  Warburton's  influence  must  be  ascribed 
the  direction  which  Pope's  invective,  unhappily  for  his  reputation  for  moral  jus- 
tice, took  in  this  his  last  important  production.  The  adaptation,  which  followed,  of 
the  entire  Dunciad  to  a  new  hero  was,  as  will  be  observed  elsewhere,  an  unfortu- 
nate attempt  to  gratify  personal  spleen  at  the  expense  of  poetic  consistency.  CoUey 
Gibber,  finding  himself  suddenly  re-introduced  to  public  ridicule  in  the  new  edition 
of  the  Dunciad^  had  very  naturally  raised  his  arm  in  self-defence;  and  had  pub- 
lished a  letter  to  Pope  endeavouring  to  account  for  the  genesis  and  growth  of  the 
enmity  of  the  latter  against  the  writer.  Pope  intended  a  revenge,  as  crushing  as 
it  was  unexpected,  by  the  bold  step  of  dethroning  Theobald  as  hero  of  the  poem 
in  favour  of  Gibber.  Gibber  was  not  slow  with  a  retort;  although  Warburton  had 
as  usual  evolved  the  fitness  of  an  adventitious  personality  out  of  the  entire  scheme 
of  the  poem.  But  the  ill-directed  shaft  of  the  revised  Dunciad  had  fallen  harm- 
less; and  thus  Pope's  last  literary  effort  unfortunately  produced  no  effect  beyond 
that  of  marring  one  of  his  most  brilliant  poems. 

But  towards  the  close  of  his  life  Pope  had  lost  most  of  his  literary  enemies,  as 
he  had  been  deprived  of  most  of  his  intimate  associates  and  friends.  On  the  other 
hand,  popular  fame  surrounded  him  with  a  halo  to  which  his  general  absence 
from  public  haunts  lent  something  mysterious.  When  curiosity  drew  him  to  the 
theatre  to  witness  one  of  the  first  performances  of  Garrick,  the  knowledge  of  his 
presence  filled  the  confident  actor  with  an  anxiety  approaching  to  awe.^  The 
veneration  with  which  his  name  for  some  time  continued  to  inspire  rising  poets  of 
a  school  which  could  have  little  sympathy  with  his  own,  is  evinced  by  such  expres- 
sions as  those  in  Mason's  juvenile  monody  of  Musceus.     But  gradually  the  end  was 

1  The  anecdote  is  told  by  M.  Ch.  de  Rdmu-  of  the  reverential  awe  with  which  Pope  was 
sat,  u.  s.  towards  the  close  of  his  life  regarded  by  such 

2  The  incident  is  mentioned  in  Mr.  Fitzger-  men  as  Johnson  and  Reynolds,  see  Forster's 
aid's  recent  Lt/e  of  Garrick.    For  instances  Life  and  Times  of  Goldsmith,  i.  373,  note. 


xliv  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

approaching,  when  nothing  but  the  society  of  old  friends  could  cheer  the  decline 
of  health  and  spirits,  until  even  affections  such  as  these  should  lose  their  power. 
The  last  months  of  Pope's  life  were  passed  chiefly  in  the  society  of  Warburton, 
though  he  was  still  occasionally  able  to  visit  his  older  friends,  Lords  Bolingbroke 
and  Marchmont,  at  Battersea :  while  Martha  Blount,  towards  whom  his  affection 
remained  unabated,  solaced  him  by  her  occasional  presence  in  his  own  home.  At 
last  came  that  sense  of  the  insufficiency  of  all  human  affections  which  to  all  except 
vulgar  minds  heralds  the  near  approach  of  death.  Pope  died  after  an  open  and 
free  acknowledgment  of  the  faith  from  the  profession  of  which  he  had  never 
swerved,  and  in  a  calm  tranquillity  offering  a  consoling  contrast  to  the  turbulence 
of  his  intellectual  life.  The  date  of  his  death  was  the  30th  of  May,  1744.  He 
was  buried,  according  to  the  directions  of  his  will,  in  Twickenham  church,  near 
the  monument  which  his  filial  piety  had  erected  to  his  parents.  He  desired  no 
inscription  on  his  tomb;  but  the  officious  devotion  of  Warburton,  seventeen  years 
later,  placarded  a  tasteless  monument  with  an  epigram  written  by  Pope  himself, 
but  never,  we  may  be  sure,  designed  by  him  to  degrade  his  resting-place.^  His 
will  is  only  interesting  in  so  far  as  ample  provision  was  made  in  it  for  Martha 
Blount,  to  whom  the  principal  part  of  the  poet's  property  was  bequeathed  for  her 
life.  To  his  literary  friends  he  made  many  bequests  of  books  and  statues.  The 
legacy  to  Warburton  has  been  already  mentioned;  but  as  literary  executor  he 
named  Lord  Bolingbroke,  or  (in  case  he  should  not  survive  the  testator,)  Lord 
Marchmont.  To  Bolingbroke's  hands  were  to  be  committed  all  MS.  and  unprinted 
papers;  and  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  even  after  his  death  Pope's  name  and  fame 
were  involved  in  two  of  those  literary  imbroglios  to  which  he  had  too  frequently 
exposed  them  in  his  lifetime. 

Bolingbroke  made  the  discovery  that  shortly  before  his  death  Pope  had  caused 
to  be  printed  off,  in  readiness  for  publication  in  his  Epistle  on  the  Characters  of 
Women,  that  satiric  sketch  of  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  under  the  name  of 
Atossa,  which  he  had  formerly  been  induced  to  suppress.  It  has  already  been 
stated  that  there  is  too  little  room  for  doubt  that  Pope,  in  order  to  secure  an  inde- 
pendence for  Martha  Blount,  had  accepted  from  the  Duchess  the  sum  of  ;i{^iooo; 
but  the  extent  of  the  undertaking  which  he  had  made  in  return  must  ever  remain 
unknown.  The  existence  both  of  the  problem  and  of  the  certainty,  casts  an  unwel- 
come shadow  on  Pope's  character.  Another  grievance,  which  stung  Bolingbroke 
to  allow  the  bitterest  reproaches  to  be  uttered  in  writing,  and  virtually  in  his  name, 
against  Pope,  was  intrinsically  of  less  moment.  It  concerned  the  unwarranted 
printing  by  Pope's  directions,  five  years  before  his  death,  of  Bolingbroke's  Letters 
on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism  ^  on  the  Idea  of  a  Patriot  King^  and  on  the  State  of  Par- 
ties, with  alterations  in  the  arrangements  and  omissions  never  sanctioned  by  their 
author.     Pope  seems  in  this  instance  to  have  been  guilty  of  an  inexcusable  offence 

1  See  the  Epitaph,  No.  xv. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  xlv 

against  his  friend;  but  as,  the  letters  being  kept  private,  no  evil  result  had  fol- 
lowed, Bolingbroke  would  have  shown  no  more  than  ordinary  generosity  in  re- 
maining silent  as  to  the  practically  harmless  affront.  But  there  was  no  generosity 
in  his  nature;  and  instead  of  contenting  himself  with  burning  the  offensive  copies, 
he  ordered  his  editor.  Mallet,  to  revile  Pope  for  his  breach  of  trust  in  terms  which 
reflect  even  less  credit  upon  the  offended  than  upon  the  offender. 


'There  is  nothing  easier,'  it  has  been  remarked  by  the  most  generous,  as  he  is 
the  most  refined,  of  living  critics,^  *  than  to  make  a  caricature  of  Pope.'  Hogarth 
and  his  public  contemporaries  never  lighted  upon  a  more  facile  task;  and  it  needs 
no  genius  for  description  to  reproduce  with  telling  elaboration  the  familiar  out- 
lines. But  little  is  gained  by  intermingling  personalities  from  which  Dennis  might 
have  shrunk  with  an  estimate  of  intellectual  characteristics;  and  a  very  few  facts 
suffice  to  change  into  infinite  pity  the  curiosity  with  which  his  bodily  and  mental 
sufferings  have  been  exhibited,  like  the  contortions  of  a  marionette. 

From  the  day  of  his  birth  Pope  was  weak  and  sickly  in  body;  and  the  extreme  > 
sensibility  of  his  nerves,  the  feebleness  of  his  digestive  organs,  and  the  general 
fragility  of  his  constitution,  made  his  life,  in  Dr.  Johnson's  phrase,  a  long  disease. 
In  boyhood  he  nearly  sank  under  the  influence  of  an  uncontrollable  hypochondria; 
such  indulgences  of  town  life  as  he  afterwards  permitted  himself  had  speedily  to  be 
relinquished;  in  middle  age  he  was  dependent  for  ordinary  comfort  on  the  constant  y^ 
care  of  women.  He  was  bald  and  deformed  and  almost  a  dwarf;  his  wearing- 
apparel  had  to  be  stiffened  here  and  padded  there;  and  his  bodily  wants  were  in 
consequence  those  of  a  child,  and  his  habits  those  of  a  valetudinarian.  If  his 
treatment  of  his  maladies  was  sometimes  petulant  and  sometimes  unwise,  his 
friends  might  have  spared  posterity  their  anecdotes  of  these  inevitable  failings; 
nor  need  Dr.  Johnson,  of  all  men,  have  gravely  recorded  the  fact  that  Pope 
*  loved  too  well  to  eat.' 

*  It  might  well  be  expected,'  observes  a  brilliant  critic,  whose  cruelty  in  dwelling 
upon  Pope's  physical  infirmities  has  rarely  been  surpassed,^  that  such  a  man 
would  be  *  capricious  and  susceptible.'  Upon  Pope's  sensitive  nature  every  spoken 
or  written  word,  and  every  event  in  which  he  was  interested,  operated  with  thrill- 
ing effect.  Martha  Blount  often  saw  him  weep,  in  reading  very  tender  and  melan- 
choly passages ;  he  told  Spence  that  he  could  never  peruse  Priam's  lament  for 
Hector  without  tears.  This  would  not  have  astonished  the  generation  of  Sterne 
and  Mackenzie;  but  Pope's  age  was  not  given  to  sensibility.  On  the  other  hand. 
Pope  had,  like  a  child,  no  judgment  of  the  relative  importance  of  injuries;  his 
anger  was  uncontrollable,  and  with  the  passionate  petulance  of  childhood  he  com- 
bined the  resentfulness  of  a  mind  unable  to  forgive  till  it  forgets.  In  his  vanity 
I  see  nothing  superlative.  For  him,  wholly  wrapped  up  in  the  progress  of  his 
^  M.  Ste.  Beuve,  in  his  Nouveaux  Lundis  (T.  viii.).  2  m.  Taine. 


xlvi  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

literary  career,  every  incident  apparently  advancing  or  retarding  its  progress,  as- 
sumed an  exceptional  importance ;  and  in  order  to  keep  himself  before  the  public 
he  frequently  condescended  to  doubtful  stratagems.  But  it  was  restlessness  rather 
than  a  false  estimate  of  his  own  value  which  prompted  him  to  these  steps.  He 
never  exalted  himself  above  those  whom  his  literary  consciousness  had  taught  him 
to  venerate.  He  never  courted  the  great  for  other  than  an  equal  friendship,  or 
sought  favours  which  he  was  unable  to  return. 

He  has  been  frequently  charged  with  an  inordinate  love  of  money;  a  supposed 
weakness  on  which  Lady  Mary,  in  the  days  of  her  enmity  with  Pope,  was  especially 
glad  to  descant.  Johnson  noted  his  extreme  talkativeness  on  this  subject ;  but 
there  is  Httle  in  his  actual  proceedings  to  warrant  the  main  accusation.  Swift  (who 
resigned  to  Pope  the  profits  of  their  Miscellanies)  would  not  have  objected  to  be 
paid  in  place  for  the  services  for  which  he  scornfully  spurned  any  other  return. 
But  Pope  was  a  literary  man  —  a  name  which  Swift  would  have  despised  —  and 
on  his  literary  earnings  built  up  his  literary  independence.  His  parsimony  in 
small  matters  savours  rather  of  a  habit  than  a  vice;  nor  is  there  reason  to  disbe- 
lieve his  statement  that  of  his  modest  income  he  expended  one-eighth  in  alms. 

In  compensation  for  his  bodily  infirmities,  nature  had  bestowed  upon  him  a  N 
brilliant  eye  and  a  melodious  voice.  To  counteract  the  debilitating  effects  of  his 
miserable  health,  he  had  been  gifted  with  an  indefatigable  activity  of  mind,  aided 
by  an  extraordinary  memory.  But  he  also  possessed  an  affectionate  heart,  to  "^ 
whose  promptings  he  listened  in  all  the  dearest  relations  of  life.  He  was  the  best 
of  sons  to  both  his  parents,  a  kind  brother,  and  to  those  who  had  once  engaged 
his  affections,  a  faithful  and  devoted  friend.  No  suspicion  perverted  the  attach- 
ment which  united  him  to  the  associates  of  his  youth,  to  the  Carylls  and  Crom- 
wells  and  Blounts,  and  to  the  friends  of  his  manhood,  to  Swift  and  Arbuthnot  and 
Gay,  and  to  Bolingbroke,  whom  he  thought  *  superior  to  anything  he  had  seen  in 
human  nature.'  Nor  was  he  a  friend  in  sunshine  only;  the  exile  of  many  was 
cheered  by  his  sympathy;  and  Swift  predicted  that  among  all  his  friends  Pope 
would  grieve  longest  for  his  death.  His  relations  to  women  were  those  of  tender 
friendship  or  affected  gallantry,  but  they  exercised  no  momentous  influence  upon 
his  life.  Had  he  not  occasionally  allowed  his  pen  to  pander  to  the  profligacy  of 
the  age,  we  might  regard  with  unmixed  pity  the  fate  which  condemned  him  to  an 
unmarried  life.  Lastly,  a  true  generosity  of  spirit  held  him  fast  to  his  father's 
faith;  and  as  he  became  the  tool  of  no  political  faction,  so  he  permitted  no 
arguments  of  self-interest  to  weigh  against  the  dictates  of  an  unaffected  piety. 

Yet  there  remains  the  fact  that  Pope's  real  Ufe  lay  in  his  hterary  labours.  He 
quitted  them  indeed  from  time  to  time,  but  they  never  quitted  him.  His  social 
gifts  were  small;   and  in  conversation  he  never  shone.^     *  As  much  company  as  I 

1  On  this  point  Spencers  A  necdotes  must  re-  versation  could  have  gained  nothing  in  Spence's 
main  the  chief  evidence.  It  is  true  thatPope's  con-    hands,  whose  note-book  is  without  a  spark  of  dra- 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  xlvii 

\ 
have  kept,  and  as  much  as  I  love  it,  I  love  reading  better.     I  would  rather  be      ) 

employed  in  reading  than  in  the  most  agreeable  conversation.'     From  reading  he 

passed  to  writing,  without  the  interval  of  experience  of  the  world  which  might 

have  saved  him  many  false  steps  and  many  empty  griefs.     But  nothing  that  arose 

out  of  the  circumstances  of  his  literary  life  was  empty  to  him.     As  a  boy  he  had 

determined  to  devote  himself  to  literature.    Neither  the  cruel  law  which  deprived 

him  of  the  opportunity  of  a  regular  education,  nor  the  weakness  of  his  health,  noi 

the  knowledge  that  his  success  must  depend  upon  himself  alone,  could  stop  his 

prosecution  of  this  resolve.     He  had  faith  in  himself;   and  this  faith,  justified  byv 

his  achievements,  stamps  him  a  great  man.     No  self-delusion  diverted  him  from  \ 

the  path  which  he  had  chosen.     Brought  up  under  the  influences  of  a  narrow     \ 

taste,  and  in  an  age  when  literature  was  used  rather  than  honoured,  he  devoted//^ 

himself  to  her  service  as  an  end,  and  not  as  a  mean.     His  age  welcomed  him  as 

one  of  its  children ;  but  by  what  he  achieved  in  and  for  the  national  literature  his 

true  fame  must  endure. 

The  time  has  gone  by  for  Pope  to  be  ranked  among  the  master-geniuses  of  our 
literature.  In  the  last  of  his  uncompromising  devotees,  Lord  Byron,  we  already 
recognise  the  note  of  half-conscious  exaggeration  usual  in  the  defenders  of  a  no 
longer  tenable  cause.  "  Neither  time,  nor  distance,  nor  age,"  writes  Lord  Byron 
in  1821,  "  can  ever  diminish  my  veneration  for  him  who  is  the  great  moral  poet  of 
"  all  times,  of  all  climes,  of  all  feelings,  and  of  all  stages  of  existence.  The  delight 
"  of  my  boyhood,  the  study  of  my  manhood,  perhaps  (if  allowed  to  me  to  attain  to 
"  it)  he  may  be  the  consolation  of  my  age.  His  poetry  is  the  book  of  life.  Without 
"  canting  and  yet  without  neglecting  religion,  he  has  assembled  all  that  a  good  and 
"  great  man  can  gather  together  of  moral  wisdom  clothed  in  consummate  beauty. 
"  Sir  Wm.  Temple  observes,  '  That  of  all  the  members  of  mankind  that  live  within 
"  the  compass  of  a  thousand  years,  for  one  man  that  is  capable  of  making  a  great 
^^poet^  there  may  be  a  thousand  born  capable  of  making  as  great  generals  or  minis- 
"ters  of  state  as  any  in  story.'  Here  is  a  statesman's  opinion  of  poetry;  it  is 
*'  honourable  to  him  and  to  the  art.  Such  a  *  poet  of  a  thousand  years '  was  Pope. 
"  A  thousand  years  will  roll  away  before  such  another  can  be  hoped  for  in  our 
"literature.     But  it  can  want  them.     He  is  himself  a  literature." 

Such  an  avalanche  of  enthusiasm  in  Lord  Byron  can  sometimes  be  traced  to 
provocation ;  and  the  cause  of  the  above  extravagant  burst  was  the  edition  of  Pope 
by  Bowles,  which  had  far  the  first  time  brought  under  active  debate  Pope's  claims 
to  a  place  among  the  greatest  names  of  English  literature.  For  Johnson  had 
cavilled  rather  than  protested;  and  Warton's  doubts  had,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
public,  met  with  a  satisfactory  reply.     Bowles's  edition  is  not  without  its  faults,  it 

matic  vitafhy.  (Joseph  Spence  first  became  ac-  wards,  through  the  influence  of  Pope's  friends,  he 
quainted  with  Pope  in  1725,  by  publishing  a  criti-  was  appointed  a  prebend  of  Durham  and  Professor 
cism  on  the  translation  of  the  Odyssey.    After-    of  Modern  History  in  the  University  of  Oxford.) 


xlviii  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

is  indeed  not  without  its  vices;  for  it  displays  an  animus  against  Pope  which 
makes  the  editor  unfair  in  his  judgment  of  biographical  details,  as  well  as  ungen- 
erous in  the  picture  which  he  draws  of  his  author  as  a  man.  Yet  Bowles  has  been 
justly  termed  the  most  poetical  editor  of  Pope;  and  it  was  he  who,  under  the  in- 
fluences of  a  new  current  in  English  literature  with  which  Byron  had  more  in 
common  than  he  cared  to  know,  first  succeeded  in  establishing  those  defects  in 
his  author  which  no  candid  criticism  can  since  pretend  to  overlook. 

Pope  is  the  foremost  of  our  classical  poets,  if  the  term  be  correctly  applied  to  a 
school  which  sought  in  the  masterpieces  of  ancient  times  the  starting-point  of  their 
own  literary  development.  But  a  national  literature  cannot  engraft  itself  upon  a 
foreign  trunk;  and  England  already  possessed  a  national  literature.  Moreover, 
the  classical  taste  which  prevailed  in  Pope's  youth  was  not  the  result  of  another 
Renaissance y  of  another  movement  towards  intellectual  freedom  through  genuine 
culture.  English  society  and  its  handmaid,  English  literature,  had  in  the  days  of 
the  Restoration,  recklessly  seized  upon  what  seemed  most  attractive  in  the  social 
and  literary  activity  of  our  nearest  and  most  influential  neighbours  —  the  French. 
Foreign  literary  models  had  thus  been  thoughtlessly  adopted  by  our  own  writers, 
and  by  one  great  genius,  Dryden,  amongst  their  number.  French  classicism,  a 
bastard  birth,  had  been  transplanted  to  our  soil;  and  though  it  could  not  be  accli- 
matised without  undergoing  many  modifications  in  accordance  with  our  national 
peculiarity,  yet  it  remained  an  exotic  and  unnatural  growth.  Already  Dryden, 
when  in  the  hot  haste  of  his  literary  life  his  better  genius  had  found  time  to  take 
counsel  with  kself,  had  recognised  the  truth  that  the  French  classical  school  was 
merely  a  French  adaptation  of  classical  rules  —  and  supposed  classical  rules  — 
into  a  code  which  was  French  rather  than  classical.  He  had  turned  from  the  French 
to  the  ancients  themselves,  but  he  could  not  shake  off  the  influence  to  which  he  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  subjected.  Pope  was  less  immediately  under  the  influence 
of  French  models  than  Dryden;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  influence  of  the  latter 
exerted  itself  in  its  turn  upon  his  successor.  Hence  it  was  impossible  that  Pope 
should  approach  such  a  classic  as  Homer  with  the  freshness  of  original  apprecia- 
tion; and  hence,  in  his  own  original  poetry,  he  naturally  formed  his  taste  among 
the  moderns,  upon  those  in  whom  he  found  the  so-called  classical  element  in  pre- 
dominance, and  among  the  ancients  in  those  most  capable  of  assimilation  to  the 
conception  of  classical  poetry  which  the  age  of  his  predecessors  had  derived  at 
second-hand.  But  the  models  which  he  consistently  followed  were  recommended 
to  him  by  more  than  an  ordinary  acceptance  of  the  prevailing  canons  of  taste. 
He  was  even  as  a  boy  too  quick-witted  not  to  perceive  many  of  the  characteristic 
features  of  such  writers  as  Chaucer  and  Spenser;  yet  we  seek  in  vain  for  any 
influence  of  these  upon  the  writings  either  of  his  youth  or  of  his  maturity.  He 
thought  Statins  the  best  of  all  the  Latin  poets  after  Vergil;  and  perhaps  even  the 
exception  of  the  latter  was  merely  conventional.  Among  the  Italians  he  preferred 
Tasso  to  Ariosto;  and  the  preference  is  equally  significant. 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR,  xlix 

Pope  had  been  told  by  Walsh  to  be  a  correct  poet,  and  such  he  became. 
Including  his  very  first  publications,  everything  he  wrote  in  verse  was  invariably, 
to  use  a  homely  but  expressive  phrase,  excellent  as  far  as  it  went.  The  Pastorals, 
the  Messiah,  Windsor  Forest,  continue  to  give  the  pleasure  which  finished  copies 
of  verse  can  never  fail  to  afford  to  an  educated  ear.  Eloisa  to  Abelard  is  an 
equally  felicitous  imitation  of  a  long-accepted  style.  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  was  a 
novelty  in  English,  but  not  in  general,  literature;  in  execution,  though  made  up 
out  of  two  sets  of  materials,  it  nearly  approaches  perfection.  In  all  these  efforts 
he  had  shown  mastery  of  form,  but  no  original  power  marking  out  any  species  of 
poetic  composition  as  signally  his  own. 

He  was  not  to  find  it  in  lyric,  or  dramatic,  or  epic  poetry.  The  first  two  of 
these  he  barely  attempted ;  his  Ode  on  St.  Cecilia'' s  Day  is  only  a  feeble  duplicate 
of  Dryden,  his  share  in  Gay's  farce  is  not  to  be  included  in  any  summary  of  his 
serious  performances.  For  epic  poetry  he  lacked  the  historic  sense;  had  he  ever 
ventured  upon  an  attempt  in  this  direction  it  would  have  been,  like  his  juvenile 
Alcander,  a  slavish  imitation  of  the  ancients,  such  as  they  appeared  to  his  eyes. 
A  plan  for  an  epic  on  Brutus,  the  mythical  grandson  of  ^neas,  was  found  among 
his  papers  after  his  death. 

There  remains  didactic  poetry  in  both  its  direct  and  indirect  form;  the  poetry 
which  has  for  its  express  object  the  inculcation  of  principles,  and  which  must  be 
primarily  judged  according  to  its  success  in  teaching  the  lessons  which  it  intends  to 
convey.  The  Essay  on  Criticism  is  a  series  of  detached  precepts,  not  the  develop- 
ment of  a  complete  system.  Apart  from  its  marvellous  finish  as  a  juvenile  effort, 
it  succeeds  in  enforcing  many  truths  in  a  form  of  which  the  incisiveness  has  rarely  ■ 
been  surpassed.  For  the  development  of  a  philosophical  system,  such  as  that  pro- 
pounded in  the  Essay  on  Man,  Pope  was  imperfectly  qualified,  because,  in  Lessing's 
simple  words,  he  was  no  philosopher.  But  here  again  he  succeeds,  by  his  mastery 
of  form,  in  impressing  upon  the  mind  many  of  the  precepts  incidental  to  his  system; 
and  produces  a  string  of  poetic  proverbs  which  will  serve  for  many  a  future  text. 
Pope's  satirical  poetry  is  also  didactic  in  its  aim.  It  has  a  positive  purpose;  it 
contrasts  excellence  and  virtue  with  dulness  and  vice;  and  its  examples  are  illustra- 
tions of  its  precepts.  Here  Pope  is  master;  his  ability  in  representing  types  of 
character  is  unsurpassed.  Personal  spleen  may  have  generally  suggested  their 
selection,  but  this  fact  fails  to  interfere  with  the  triumphant  success  of  the  result. 
The  men  and  women  of  his  Satires  and  Epistles,  his  Atticus  and  Atossa,  and  Sappho 
and  Sporus,  are  real  types,  whether  they  be  more  or  less  faithful  portraits  of  Addi- 
son and  the  old  Duchess,  of  Lady  Mary  and  Lord  Hervey.  His  Dunces  are  the 
Dunces  of  all  times;  his  orator  Henley  the  mob-orator,  and  his  awful  Aristarch 
the  don,  of  all  epochs;  though  there  may  have  been  some  merit  in  Theobald,  some 
use  even  in  Henley,  and  though  in  Bentley  there  was  undoubted  greatness.  But 
in  Pope's  hands  individuals  become  types;  and  his  creative  power  in  this  respect 
surpasses  that  of  the  Roman  satirists,  and  leaves  Dryden  himself  behind. 


1  INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 

Pope's  fame  as  a  translator  was  ranked  by  Addison  on  a  level  with  that  of 
Dryden,  but  even  Addison  can  in  this  case  be  hardly  admitted  as  a  competent 
judge.  If  the  art  of  translation  consists  not  in  carrying  into  an  author  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  translator  and  his  age,  but  in  reproducing  at  all  events  the  leading 
characteristics  of  that  author  himself,  Pope's  Homer  must  be  accounted  a  failure. 
It  is  a  noble  achievement  as  an  English  poem;  but  it  resembles  those  efforts  in 
landscape-gardening  which  require  to  he  surveyed  from  particular  points  of  view, 
unless  their  artificiality  is  to  betray  itself  at  once.  Pope  has  not  caught,  —  he  could 
not  catch,  —  the  manner  of  Homer.  Had  he  succeeded  in  this,  he  might  be  for- 
given a  thousand  inaccuracies  more  glaring  than  those  which  he  has  actually  com- 
mitted. A  scholar's  hand  might  make  Dryden's  Juvenal  Juvenal,  but  to  be  made 
Homer  Pope's  translations  need  not  to  be  revised,  but  recast.  This  is  not  a  mere 
question  of  metre.  Garrick  wore  a  wig  in  Macbeth^  but  he  moved  the  passions  of 
his  audience  by  the  spirit  of  Shakspere.  Pope  had  not  caught  that  Homeric 
spirit  which  has  communicated  itself  to  at  least  one  later  translator,  even  when 
imprisoned  by  his  own  wilfulness  in  the  machinery  of  a  modern  stanza. 

As  a  writer  of  prose  Pope  had  no  ambition  to  achieve  eminence.  The  majority 
of  his  prose  satires  are  mere  lampoons;  the  conception  of  the  Treatise  on  the 
Bathos  is  that  of  an  excursus  from  the  leading  idea  of  the  Dunciad.  His  edition 
of  Shakspere  was  undertaken  as  booksellers'  work;  it  is  in  many  respects  a  care- 
less performance;  but  his  ingenuity  is  apparent  in  his  abundant  emendations, 
many  of  which  have  since  met  with  universal  acceptance.  Had  he  carried  out 
the  scheme  which  he  entertained  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  of  writing  a  history 
of  English  poetry,  he  could  hardly  have  produced  more  than  an  interesting,  but 
radically  imperfect  performance.^ 

Of  his  poetic  form  Pope  was  master.  He  perfected  an  English  metre,  the 
heroic  couplet,  which  for  the  purposes  of  didactic  and  satirical  poetry  has  since 
remained  the  chosen  vehicle  of  expression  in  our  language.  To  his  command  over 
this  metre  he  had  attained  rapidly,  though  not  at  once.  His  earlier  poems  are  not 
free  from  false  rhymes,^  and  display  that  free  introduction  of  an  Alexandrine  line 
which  Cowley  had  first  among  English  poets  permitted  himself,  but  which  Pope 
afterwards  abandoned.  Whether  Pope  could  have  attained  to  equal  mastery  over 
other  metres,  seems  an  idle  question;  for  none  could  have  equally  suited  the  pecu- 
liarity of  his  genius.  Lady  Mary  was  of  opinion  that  Pope  must  have  failed  in 
blank  verse,  just  as  Dryden  declared  that  Milton  would  have  written  Paradise  Lost 
in  rhymed  couplets  if  he  could.  But  the  heroic  couplet,  and  no  other  form  of  verse, 
was  that  adapted  to  the  genius  of  Pope.  He  once  observed  that  one  of  the  great 
conditions  of  writing  well  is  *  to  know  thoroughly  what  one  writes  about.'  The 
clear  conception  of  a  thought  was  in  each  case  his  first  step;  next  came  the  inde- 

1  So  I  judge  from  the  scheme  itself,  which  was  first  published  by  Ruffhead,  and  is  given  at 
length  in  Roscoe,  Vol.  i. 

3  [Pope  to  the  end  persisted  in  makinft  false  rhymes.    A  m,  Ed,] 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR.  li 

fatigable  labour  of  condensing  and  compressing  it  into  the  form  in  which  its  expres- 
sion, most  finished  in  form,  is  at  the  same  time  most  convenient  to  the  memory. 
Thus  he,  as  it  were,  engraved  ideas;  and  his  poems  are  full  of  those  couplets  which 
can  cleanly  and  without  damage  to  themselves  be  taken  out  of  their  setting.^  In 
versification  Pope  was,  as  he  often  said,  a  pupil  of  Dryden;  but  he  far  surpassed 
his  master.  Dryden's  verse  is  often  slovenly,  and  abounds  in  weak  lines.  In  Pope 
there  is  never  a  syllable,  hardly  ever  a  line,  too  much.  On  the  other  hand.  Pope 
might,  with  advantage  to  the  effect  of  his  poems  as  a  whole,  have  departed  more 
frequently  from  the  ordinary  rule  as  to  the  position  of  the  ccesura  in  the  verse.  The 
ear  is  delighted  after  listening  to  a  page  of  Pope;  an  entire  poem  is  apt  to  weary 
by  the  regularity  of  the  cadence,  resembling  the  march-past  of  column  after  column 
of  perfectly-drilled  troops.  It  would  be  difficult  to  point  out  any  other  defect  in 
Pope's  versification.  To  this  day,  except  in  a  few  instances  where  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  a  diphthong  or  the  accentuation  of  a  word  has  changed,  it  remains  a  classic 
model.  And  Johnson  was  guilty  of  no  Byronic  extravagance  when  he  told  Boswell 
that  *  a  thousand  years  may  elapse  before  there  shall  appear  another  man  with  a 
power  of  versification  equal  to  that  of  Pope.' 

Such  were,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  principal  achievements  of  Pope  during  his 
life  of  devotion  to  literature.  But  English  literature  owes  him  more  than  these  — 
she  owes  him  the  effects  of  that  devotion  itself.  It  was  not  only  that  he  made  war 
upon  those  who  degraded  an  art  into  a  trade,  and  into  the  vilest  of  trades.  The 
infirmity  of  his  temper,  which  charity  will  judge  with  gentleness  in  consideration 
of  the  miserable  frailty  of  his  bodily  health,  led  him  into  many  self-degradations. 
But  the  master  passion  in  his  breast  was  not  his  vanity;  it  was  his  veneration  for 
what  is  great  and  noble  in  intellectual  life,  and  his  loathing  for  what  is  small  and 
mean  and  noxious.  He  could  not  exterminate  Grub-street;  but  as  long  as  he  lived 
and  battled  against  it,  it  felt  that  it  was  only  Grub-street,  and  the  world  around 
was  conscious  of  the  fact.  He  served  literature  neither  for  power,  like  Swift;  nor, 
like  nearly  all  his  contemporaries,  for  place  and  pay;  not  even  for  fame  chiefly; 
but  for  her  own  sake.  And  the  acknowledgment  due  to  a  noble  and  lifelong 
self-devotion  should  not  be  grudged  to  Pope,  even  by  those  who  perceive  his 
shortcomings  and  lament  his  faults. 

^  The  late  Lord  Carlisle,  in  a  Lecture  on  Pope^  gave  a  long  but  not  exhaustive  list  of  these 
familiar  gems. 


lii 


INTRODUCTORY  MEMOIR. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


1688.    (May  21.)     Birth  of  Pope. 
1700.    (^Circ.)     Pope  takes  up  his  resi- 
dence with  his  father  at  Binfield. 

1704.  Commencement  of  intimacy  with 
Sir  Wm.  Trumball, 

1705.  and  Walsh. 

1 707.  First  acquaintance  with  the  Blount 
family. 

1709.   Pastorals  published. 

1711.  Essay  on  Criticism  p.  Pope  in- 
troduced to  Gay, 

1 71 2.  and  Addison.  Rape  of  the  Lock 
(original  edition)  p.    l^he  Messiah  p. 

17 1 3.  (April.)  Addison's  Cato  first 
acted.     Prologue  to  Cato  p. 

Pope's  attack  on  Dennis  reproved 
by  Addison. 

Windsor  Forest  p.  Pope  intro- 
duced to  Swift.  Ode  on  St. 
Cecilia'' s  Day  p. 

Pope  studies  painting  under  Jervas. 

(November.)  Subscription  for 
Translation  of  Iliad  opened. 

1 71 3-4.  Meetings  of  the  Scriblerus 
Club. 

1714.  Death  of  Queen  Anne.  Rape  of  the 
Lock  (  enlarged) .    Temple  of  Fame  p. 

1 71 5.  Iliad  (Vol.  I.)  p. 

1 71 5-6.   Quarrel  with  Addison. 

1 71 6.  (April.)  Pope  settles  with  his 
parents  at  Chiswick. 

Departure  for  the  East  of  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu. 

1 7 1 7.  Elegy  to  the  Memory  of  an  Unfor- 
tunate Lady  p.  Epistle  of  Eloisa 
to  A  be  lard  p.  Three  Hours  after 
Marriage  produced.     First  quarrel 

,  with  Cibber. 

(October.)  Death  of  Pope's 
father. 

1 718.  Pope  settles  with  his  mother  at 
Twickenham. 

^    Return   from  the   East   of  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu. 


1720.  South-Sea  Year.  Iliad  (last  vol- 
ume) p. 

1 722.  Correspondence  with  Judith  Cow- 
per. 

1723.  First  return  of  Bolingbroke.  Ban- 
ishment of  Atterbury. 

1725.  Edition  of  Shakspere  p.  Pope 
attacked  by  Theobald. 

Odyssey  (Vols.  I.-IIL)  p.  Second 
return  of  Bolingbroke,  who  set- 
tles at  Dawley. 

1726.  Letters  to  Cromwell  (CmW)  p.  Swift 
pays  a  long  visit  to  Twickenham. 

1727.  (June.)  Death  of  George  I.  Mis- 
cellanies (Vols.  L  and  IL)  p. ;  con- 
taining, among  other  pieces  by  Pope, 
the  7  reatise  on  the  Pathos. 

1728.  The  Dunciad  (Books  I.-IIL)  p. 

1730.  Grub-street  Journal  (continued 
by  Pope  and  others  till  1737).  Quar- 
rels with  Aaron  Hill  and  others. 

1 73 1.  Epistle  on  Taste  1^.  The  remain- 
ing Moral  Essays  up  to  1735. 

1732.  Essay  on  Man  (Ep.  I.)  p.  The 
remaining  Epistles  up  to  1734. 

(December.)     Death  of  Gay. 

1733.  Quarrel  with  Lord  Hervey, 
(June.)  Death  of  Pope's  mother. 

1735.  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot  p.  Death  of 
Arbuthnot. 

Pope's  Correspondence.    (Curll.) 

1736.  Pope's  Correspondence  (author- 
ised edition). 

1737.  Imitations  0/  Horace  p. 

1738.  Epilogue  to  Satires  p. 

1740.  (March.)  Close  of  correspond- 
ence with  Swift. 

First  meeting  with  Warburton. 

1742.  The  New  Dunciad  (in  four 
books)  p. 

1743.  The  Dunciad  (with  Cibber  as 
hero)  p. 

1744.  (May  30.)    Death  of  Pope. 


THE  AUTHOR'S   PREFACE. 


I  AM  inclined  to  think  that  both  the  writers  of  books,  and  the  readers  of  them, 
are  generally  not  a  little  unreasonable  in  their  expectations.  The  first  seem 
to  fancy  that  the  world  must  approve  whatever  they  produce,  and  the  latter  to 
imagine  that  authors  are  obliged  to  please  them  at  any  rate.  Methinks,  as  on  the 
one  hand,  no  single  man  is  born  with  a  right  of  controuling  the  opinions  of  all  the 
rest;  so  on  the  other,  the  world  has  no  title  to  demand,  that  the  whole  care  and 
time  of  any  particular  person  should  be  sacrificed  to  its  entertainment.  There- 
fore I  cannot  but  believe  that  writers  and  readers  are  under  equal  obligations,  for 
as  much  fame,  or  pleasure,  as  each  affords  the  other. 

Every  one  acknowledges,  it  would  be  a  wild  notion  to  expect  perfection  in  any 
work  of  man :  and  yet  one  would  think  the  contrary  was  taken  for  granted,  by  the 
judgment  commonly  past  upon  Poems.  A  Critic  supposes  he  has  done  his  part, 
if  he  proves  a  writer  to  have  failed  in  an  expression,  or  erred  in  any  particular 
point :  ^  and  can  it  then  be  wondered  at,  if  the  Poets  in  general  seem  resolved  not 
to  own  themselves  in  any  error?  For  as  long  as  one  side  will  make  no  allow- 
ances, the  other  will  be  brought  to  no  acknowledgements. 

I  am  afraid  this  extreme  zeal  on  both  sides  is  ill-placed;  Poetry  and  Criticism 
being  by  no  means  the  universal  concern  of  the  world,  but  only  the  affair  of  idle 
men  who  write  in  their  closets,  and  of  idle  men  who  read  there. 

Yet  sure  upon  the  whole,  a  bad  Author  deserves  better  usage  than  a  bad  Critic : 
for  a  Writer's  endeavour,  for  the  most  part,  is  to  please  his  Readers,  and  he  fails 
merely  through  the  misfortune  of  an  ill  judgment;  but  such  a  Critic's  is  to  put 
them  out  of  humour;  a  design  he  could  never  go  upon  without  both  that  and  an 
ill  temper. 

I  think  a  good  deal  may  be  said  to  extenuate  the  fault  of  bad  Poets.  What  we 
call  a  Genius,  is  hard  to  be  distinguished  by  a  man  himself,  from  a  strong  inclina- 
tion :  and  if  his  genius  be  ever  so  great,  he  cannot  at  first  discover  it  any  other 
way,  than  by  giving  way  to  that  prevalent  propensity  which  renders  him  the  more 
liable  to  be  mistaken.  The  only  method  he  has,  is  to  make  the  experiment  by 
writing,  and  appealing  to  the  judgment  of  others :  now  if  he  happens  to  write  ill 
(which  is  certainly  no  sin  in  itself)  he  is  immediately  made  an  object  of  ridicule. 
I. wish  we  had  the  humanity  to  reflect  that  even  the  worst  authors  might,  in  their 
endeavour  to  please  us,  deserve  something  at  our  hands.  We  have  no  cause  to 
quarrel  with  them  but  for  their  obstinacy  in  persisting  to  write;  and  this  too  may 
admit  of  alleviating  circumstances.    Their  particular  friends  may  be  either  igno- 

1  [Cf.  Essay  on  CrUicisniy  265.] 
B  I 


2  THE  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE, 

rant,  or  insincere;  and  the  rest  of  the  world  in  general  is  too  well  bred  to  shock 
them  with  a  truth,  which  generally  their  Booksellers  are  the  first  that  inform  them 
of.  This  happens  not  till  they  have  spent  too  much  of  their  time,  to  apply  to  any 
profession  which  might  better  fit  their  talents;  and  till  such  talents  as  they  have 
are  so  far  discredited  as  to  be  but  of  small  service  to  them.  For  (what  is  the  hard- 
est case  imaginable)  the  reputation  of  a  man  generally  depends  upon  the  first  steps 
he  makes  in  the  world,  and  people  will  establish  their  opinion  of  us,  from  what  we 
do  at  that  season  when  we  have  least  judgment  to  direct  us. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  good  Poet  no  sooner  communicates  his  works  with  the 
same  desire  of  information,  but  it  is  imagined  he  is  a  vain  young  creature  given  up 
to  the  ambition  of  fame;  when  perhaps  the  poor  man  is  all  the  while  trembling 
with  the  fear  of  being  ridiculous.  If  he  is  made  to  hope  he  may  please  the  world, 
he  falls  under  very  unlucky  circumstances :  for,  from  the  moment  he  prints,  he 
must  expect  to  hear  no  more  truth,  than  if  he  were  a  Prince,  or  a  Beauty.  If  he 
has  not  very  good  sense  (and  indeed  there  are  twenty  men  of  wit,  for  one  man  of 
sense)  his  living  thus  in  a  course  of  flattery  may  put  him  in  no  small  danger  of 
becoming  a  Coxcomb :  if  he  has,  he  will  consequently  have  so  much  diffidence  as 
not  to  reap  any  great  satisfaction  from  his  praise;  since,  if  it  be  given  to  his  face, 
it  can  scarce  be  distinguished  from  flattery,  and  if  in  his  absence,  it  is  hard  to  be 
certain  of  it.  Were  he  sure  to  be  commended  by  the  best  and  most  knowing,  he 
is  as  sure  of  being  envied  by  the  worst  and  most  ignorant,  which  are  the  majority; 
for  it  is  with  a  fine  Genius  as  with  a  fine  fashion,  all  those  are  displeased  at  it  who 
are  not  able  to  follow  it :  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  esteem  will  seldom  do  any 
man  so  much  good,  as  ill-will  does  him  harm.  Then  there  is  a  third  class  of 
people  who  make  the  largest  part  of  mankind,  those  of  ordinary  or  indifferent 
capacities;  and  these  (to  a  man)  will  hate,  or  suspect  him:  a  hundred  honest 
Gentlemen  will  dread  him  as  a  Wit,  and  a  hundred  innocent  Women  as  a  Satirist. 
In  a  word,  whatever  be  his  fate  in  Poetry,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  he  must  give  up  all 
the  reasonable  aims  of  life  for  it.  There  are  indeed  some  advantages  accruing 
from  a  Genius  to  Poetry,  and  they  are  all  I  can  think  of:  the  agreeable  power 
of  self- amusement  when  a  man  is  idle  or  alone;  the  privilege  of  being  admitted 
into  the  best  company;  and  the  freedom  of  saying  as  many  careless  things  as 
other  people,  without  being  so  severely  remarked  upon. 

I  believe,  if  any  one,  early  in  his  life,  should  contemplate  the  dangerous  fate  of 
authors,  he  would  scarce  be  of  their  number  on  any  consideration.  The  life  of 
a  Wit  is  a  warfare  upon  earth;  ^  and  the  present  spirit  of  the  learned  world  is  such, 
that  to  attempt  to  serve  it  (any  way)  one  must  have  the  constancy  of  a  martyr,  and 
a  resolution  to  suffer  for  its  sake.  I  could  wish  people  would  believe  what  I  am 
pretty  certain  they  will  not,  that  I  have  been  much  less  concerned  about  Fame  than 
I  durst  declare  till  this  occasion,  when  methinks  I  should  find  more  credit  than  I 
could  heretofore :  since  my  writings  have  had  their  fate  already,  and  it  is  too  late 
to  think  of  prepossessing  the  reader  in  their  favour.  I  would  plead  it  as  some 
merit  in  me,  that  the  world  has  never  been  prepared  for  these  Trifles  by  Prefaces, 
byassed  by  recommendations,  dazled  with  the  names  of  great  Patrons,  wheedled 
with  fine  reasons  and  pretences,  or  troubled  with  excuses.     I  confess  it  was  want 

J  [Cf.  Essay  on  Criticism,  494,  ff.] 


THE  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE,  3 

of  consideration  that  made  me  an  author;  I  writ  because  it  amused  me;  I  cor- 
rected because  it  was  as  pleasant  to  me  to  correct  as  to  write;  and  I  published 
because  I  was  told  I  might  please  such  as  it  was  a  credit  to  please.  To  what 
degree  I  have  done  this,  I  am  really  ignorant;  I  had  too  much  fondness  for  my 
productions  to  judge  of  them  at  first,  and  too  much  judgment  to  be  pleased  with 
them  at  last.  But  I  have  reason  to  think  they  can  have  no  reputation  which 
will  continue  long,  or  which  deserves  to  do  so :  for  they  have  always  fallen  short 
not  only  of  what  I  read  of  others,  but  even  of  my  own  Ideas  of  Poetry. 

If  any  one  should  imagine  I  am  not  in  earnest,  I  desire  him  to  reflect,  that  the 
Ancients  (to  say  the  least  of  them)  had  as  much  Genius  as  we :  and  that  to  take 
more  pains,  and  employ  more  time,  cannot  fail  to  produce  more  complete  pieces. 
They  constantly  apply'd  themselves  not  only  to  that  art,  but  to  that  single  branch 
of  an  art,  to  which  their  talent  was  most  powerfully  bent;  and  it  was  the  business 
of  their  lives  to  correct  and  finish  their  works  for  posterity.  If  we  can  pretend  to 
have  used  the  same  industry,  let  us  expect  the  same  immortality :  Tho'  if  we  took 
the  same  care,  we  should  still  lie  under  a  farther  misfortune :  they  writ  in  languages 
that  became  universal  and  everlasting,  while  ours  are  extremely  limited  both  in 
extent  and  in  duration.  A  mighty  foundation  for  our  pride  !  when  the  utmost  we 
can  hope,  is  but  to  be  read  in  one  Island,  and  to  be  thrown  aside  at  the  end  of 
one  Age. 

All  that  is  left  us  is  to  recommend  our  productions  by  the  imitation  of  the 
Ancients :  and  it  will  be  found  true,  that,  in  every  age,  the  highest  character  for 
sense  and  learning  has  been  obtain'd  by  those  who  have  been  most  indebted  to 
them.  For,  to  say  truth,  whatever  is  very  good  sense,  must  have  been  common 
sense  in  all  times  ;  and  what  we  call  Learning,  is  but  the  knowledge  of  the  sense 
of  our  predecessors.  Therefore  they  who  say  our  thoughts  are  not  our  own, 
because  they  resemble  the  Ancients,  may  as  well  say  our  faces  are  not  our  own, 
because  they  are  like  our  Fathers  :  And  indeed  it  is  very  unreasonable,  that  people 
should  expect  us  to  be  Scholars,  and  yet  be  angry  to  find  us  so. 

I  fairly  confess  that  I  have  serv'd  myself  all  I  could  by  reading;  that  I  made 
use  of  the  judgment  of  authors  dead  and  living;  that  I  omitted  no  means  in  my 
power  to  be  inform'd  of  my  errors,  both  by  my  friends  and  enemies :  But  the  true 
reason  these  pieces  are  not  more  correct,  is  owing  to  the  consideration  how  short 
a  time  they,  and  I,  have  to  live :  One  may  be  ashamed  to  consume  half  one's  days 
in  bringing  sense  and  rhyme  together;  and  what  Critic  can  be  so  unreasonable, 
as  not  to  leave  a  man  time  enough  for  any  more  serious  employment,  or  more 
agreeable  amusement? 

The  only  plea  I  shall  use  for  the  favour  of  the  public,  is,  that  I  have  as  great 
a  respect  for  it,  as  most  authors  have  for  themselves;  and  that  I  have  sacrificed 
much  of  my  own  self-love  for  its  sake,  in  preventing  not  only  many  mean  things 
from  seeing  the  light,  but  many  which  I  thought  tolerable.  I  would  not  be  like 
those  Authors,  who  forgive  themselves  some  particular  lines  for  the  sake  of  a  whole 
Poem,  and  vice  versa  a  whole  Poem  for  the  sake  of  some  particular  lines.  I 
believe  no  one  qualification  is  so  likely  to  make  a  good  writer,  as  the  power  of 
rejecting  his  own  thoughts;  and  it  must  be  this  (if  any  thing)  that  can  give  me  a 
chance  to  be  one.     For  what  I  have  published,  I  can  only  hope  to  be  pardon'd; 


4  THE  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE, 

but  for  what  I  have  burn'd,  I  deserve  to  be  prais'd.  On  this  account  the  world 
is  under  some  obligation  to  me,  and  owes  me  the  justice  in  return,  to  look  upon 
no  verses  as  mine  that  are  not  inserted  in  this  collection.  And  perhaps  nothing 
could  make  it  worth  my  while  to  own  what  are  really  so,  but  to  avoid  the  impu- 
tation of  so  many  dull  and  immoral  things,  as  partly  by  malice,  and  partly  by 
ignorance,  have  been  ascribed  to  me.  I  must  farther  acquit  myself  of  the  pre- 
sumption of  having  lent  my  name  to  recommend  any  Miscellanies  or  Works  of 
other  men ;  a  thing  I  never  thought  becoming  a  person  who  has  hardly  credit 
enough  to  answer  for  his  own. 

In  this  office  of  collecting  my  pieces,  I  am  altogether  uncertain,  whether  to  look 
upon  myself  as  a  man  building  a  monument,  or  burying  the  dead. 

If  Time  shall  make  it  the  former,  may  these  Poems  (as  long  as  they  last)  remain 
as  a  testimony,  that  their  Author  never  made  his  talents  subservient  to  the  mean 
and  unworthy  ends  of  Party  or  Self-interest ;  the  gratification  of  public  prejudices, 
or  private  passions  ;  the  flattery  of  the  undeserving,  or  the  insult  of  the  unfortu- 
nate. If  I  have  written  well,  let  it  be  consider'd  that  't  is  what  no  man  can  do 
without  good  sense,  a  quality  that  not  only  renders  one  capable  of  being  a  good 
writer,  but  a  good  man.  And  if  I  have  made  any  acquisition  in  the  opinion  of 
any  one  under  the  notion  of  the  former,  let  it  be  continued  to  me  under  no  other 
title  than  that  of  the  latter. 

But  if  this  publication  be  only  a  more  solemn  funeral  of  my  Remains,  I  desire 
it  may  be  known  that  I  die  in  charity,  and  in  my  senses  ;  without  any  murmurs 
against  the  justice  of  this  age,  or  any  mad  appeals  to  posterity.  I  declare  I  shall 
think  the  world  in  the  right,  and  quietly  submit  to  every  truth  which  time  shall 
discover  to  the  prejudice  of  these  writings  ;  not  so  much  as  wishing  so  irrational 
a  thing,  as  that  every  body  should  be  deceived  merely  for  my  credit.  However, 
I  desire  it  may  then  be  considered,  That  there  are  very  few  things  in  this  collec- 
tion, which  were  not  written  under  the  age  of  five  and  twenty  :  so  that  my  youth 
may  be  made  (as  it  never  fails  to  be  in  executions)  a  case  of  compassion.  That  I 
was  never  so  concerned  about  my  works  as  to  vindicate  them  in  print,  believing, 
if  any  thing  was  good,  it  would  defend  itself,  and  what  was  bad  could  never  be 
defended.  That  I  used  no  artifice  to  raise  or  continue  a  reputation,  depreciated 
no  dead  author  I  was  obliged  to,  bribed  no  living  one  with  unjust  praise,  insulted 
no  adversary  with  ill  language  ;  or  when  I  could  not  attack  a  Rival's  works,  en- 
couraged reports  against  his  Morals.  To  conclude,  if  this  volume  perish,  let  it 
serve  as  a  warning  to  the  Critics,  not  to  take  too  much  pains  for  the  future  to 
destroy  such  things  as  will  die  of  themselves;  and  a  Memento  mori  to  some  of 
my  vain  contemporaries  the  Poets,  to  teach  them  that,  when  real  merit  is  wanting, 
it  avails  nothing  to  have  been  encouraged  by  the  great,  commended  by  the  emi- 
nent, and  favoured  by  the  public  in  general. 

P. 

Nov.  lo,  1 716. 


JUVENILE   POEMS. 

PASTORALS, 
WITH  A  DISCOURSE   ON   PASTORAL. 

Written  in  the  Year  1704. 

Rura  mihi  et  rigui  placeant  in  vallibus  amnes, 
Flumina  amem,  sylvasque,  inglorius!  — Virg. 

[If  the  pastoral  poetry  with  which  English  literature  is  overloaded  may  with 
propriety  be  divided  into  real  and  sham,  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  the  following 
juvenile  productions  of  Pope,  written  by  him  in  1704  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  must  be 
included  in  the  latter  and  larger  category.  The  two  main  objections  which  have 
been  raised  against  Pope's  Pastorals^  viz.  the  barrenness  of  invention  and  the  mixt- 
ure of  modern  and  antique  ideas  and  associations  displayed  in  them,  apply  with 
more  or  less  force  to  all  efforts  in  this  branch  of  poetical  composition  which  are 
purely  and  avowedly  artificial  and  imitative.  In  an  ironical  criticism  of  his  Pas- 
torals sent  anonymously  by  Pope  to  the  Guardian,  he  avows  both  characteristics; 
and  takes  credit  for  having  abstained  from  the  rustic  nomenclature  adopted  by 
Phillips,  who  had  in  this  respect  followed  the  precedent  of  Spenser,  and  was  ac- 
cordingly ridiculed  in  the  burlesque  Shepherd^ s  Week^  by  Gay.  Dr.  Johnson  has 
said  all  that  needs  to  be  said  as  to  the  absolute  and  relative  value  belonging  to 
these  poetic  exercises  in  English  literature  generally,  and  among  the  works  of 
Pope  in  particular,  when  he  observes  that  *  to  charge  these  Pastorals  with  want 
of  invention,  is  to  require  what  never  was  intended.  The  imitations  are  so  am- 
bitiously frequent,  that  the  writer  evidently  means  rather  to  shew  his  literature 
than  his  wit.  It  is  surely  sufficient  for  an  author  of  sixteen  not  only  to  be  able  to 
copy  the  poems  of  antiquity  with  judicious  selection,  but  to  have  obtained  suffi- 
cient power  of  language,  and  skill  in  metre,  to  exhibit  a  series  of  versification, 
which  had  in  English  poetry  no  precedent,  nor  has  since  had  an  imitation.'  It 
may,  however,  be  remarked  that  these  poems  contain  a  number  of  doubtful  rhymes 
—  an  objection  which  is  not  to  be  made  to  the  author's  maturer  pieces. 

The  arrangement  of  the  four  Pastorals  under  the  names  of  the  four  seasons  of 
the  year,  while  scarcely  meriting  praise  due  to  an  exceptionally  bold  originality, 
is  more  convenient  than  that  of  Spenser's  Shepherd^ s  /Calendar,  in  which,  as  has 
been  pointed  out,  it  was  impossible  to  sustain  in  each  case  the  character  attach- 

5 


6  PASTORALS, 

ing  or  supposed  to  attach  to  each  particular  month.  Such  as  it  is,  Pope's 
arrangement  was  stated  by  Thomson  to  have  given  him  the  first  hint  and  idea  of 
writing  his  Seasons. 

The  scenery  of  the  Pastorals  is  in  the  main  that  of  Windsor  Forest,  where  (at 
Binfield)  the  poet  had  from  the  age  of  twelve  resided  with  his  father  ;  but,  in 
accordance  with  the  nature  of  these  compositions,  there  is  no  attempt  to  keep  up 
a  very  distinct  local  colouring. 

These  productions  obtained  for  the  young  poet  immediate  and  cordial  recogni- 
tion from  many  eminent  men.  By  Sir  William  Trumball  they  were  shown  to 
Wycherley,  and  by  the  latter  to  Walsh,  and  subsequently  communicated  to  Lord 
Lansdowne,  Dr.  Garth,  Lords  HaUfax  and  Somers,  Mr.  Mainwaring,  and  others.  ] 


A  DISCOURSE   ON   PASTORAL  POETRY.i 

THERE  are  not,  I  believe,  a  greater  number  of  any  sort  of  verses,  than  of  those 
which  arc  called  Pastorals  ;  nor  a  smaller,  than  of  those  which  are  truly  so. 
It  therefore  seems  necessary  to  give  some  account  of  this  kind  of  Poem,  and  it  is 
my  design  to  comprize  in  this  short  paper  the  substance  of  those  numerous  dis- 
sertations the  Criticks  have  made  on  the  subject,  without  omitting  any  of  their 
rules  in  my  own  favour.  You  will  also  find  some  points  reconciled,  about  which 
they  seem  to  differ,  and  a  few  remarks,  which,  I  think,  have  escaped  their 
observation. 

The  original  of  Poetry  is  ascribed  to  that  Age  which  succeeded  the  creation  of 
the  world:  and  as  the  keeping  of  flocks  seems  to  have  been  the  first  employment 
of  mankind,  the  most  ancient  sort  of  poetry  was  probably  pastoral.-  It  is  natural 
to  imagine,  that  the  leisure  of  those  ancient  shepherds  admitting  and  inviting 
some  diversion,  none  was  so  proper  to  that  solitary  and  sedentary  hfe  as  singing; 
and  that  in  their  songs  they  took  occasion  to  celebrate  their  own  felicity.  From 
hence  a  Poem  was  invented,  and  afterwards  improved  to  a  perfect^image  of  that 
happy  time;  which  by  giving  us  an  esteem  for  the  virtues  of  a  former  age,  might 
recommend  them  to  the  present.  And  since  the  life  of  shepherds  was  attended 
with  more  tranquillity  than  any  other  rural  employment,  the  Poets  chose  to  intro- 
duce their  Persons,  from  whom  it  received  the  name  of  Pastoral. 

A  Pastoral  is  an  imitation  of  the  action  of  a  shepherd,  or  one  considered  under 
that  character.  The  form  of  this  imitation  is  dramatic,  or  narrative,  or  mixed  of 
both;  3  the  fable  simple,  the  manners  not  too  polite  nor  too  rustic :  the  thoughts 
are  plain,  yet  admit  a  little  quickness  and  passion,  but  that  short  and  flowing: 
the  expression  humble,  yet  as  pure  as  the  language  will  afford;  neat,  but  not  florid; 
easy,  and  yet  lively.  In  short,  the  fable,  manners,  thoughts,  and  expressions  are 
full  of  the  greatest  simplicity  in  nature. 

1  Written  at  sixteen  years  of  age.    P.  ^YovA^Vi&^f^s  Disc,  on  Pastorals.    P. 

3  Hensius  in  Theocr.     P. 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  PASTORAL  POETRY.  7 

The  complete  character  of  this  poem  consists  in  simplicity,^  brevity,  and  deli- 
cacy ;   the  two  first  of  which  render  an  eclogue  natural,  and  the  last  delightful. 

If  we  could  copy  Nature,  it  may  be  useful  to  take  this  Idea  along  with  us,  that 
Pastoral  is  an  ii^agfi^of  what  they  call  the  golden  age.  So  that  we  are  not  to 
describe  our  shepherds  as  shepherds  at  this  day  really  are,  but  as  they  may  be  con- 
ceived then  to  have  been;  when  the  best  of  men  followed  the  employment.  To 
carry  this  resemblance  yet  farther,  it  would  not  be  amiss  to  give  these  shepherds 
some  skill  in  astronomy,  as  far  as  it  may  be  useful  to  that  sort  of  life.  And 
an  air  of  piety  to  the  Gods  should  shine  through  the  Poem,  which  so  visibly 
appears  in  all  the  works  of  antiquity :  and  it  ought  to  preserve  some  relish  of 
the  old  way  of  writing;  the  connection  should  be  loose,  the  narrations  and 
descriptions  short,^  and  the  periods  concise.  Yet  it  is  not  sufficient,  that  the 
sentences  only  be  brief,  the  whole  Eclogue  should  be  so  too.  For  we  cannot 
suppose  Poetry  in  those  days  to  have  been  the  business  of  men,  but  their  recrea- 
tion at  vacant  hours. 

But  with  a  respect  to  the  present  age,  nothing  more  conduces  to  make  these 
composures  natural,  than  when  some  Knowledge  in  rural  affairs  is  discovered.^ 
This  may  be  made  to  appear  rather  done  by  chance  than  on  design,  and  some- 
times is  best  shewn  by  inference  ;  lest  by  too  much  study  to  seem  natural,  we 
destroy  that  easy  simplicity  from  whence  arises  the  delight.  For  what  is  inviting 
in  this  sort  of  poetry  proceeds  not  so  much  from  the  Idea  of  that  business,  as  of 
the  tranquillity  of  a  country  life. 

We  must  therefore  use  some  illusion  to  render  a  Pastoral  delightful ;  and  this 
consists  in  exposing  the  best  side_only  of  a  shepherd's  life,  and  in  concealing  its 
miseries.*  Nor  is  it  enough  to  introduce  shepherds  discoursing  together  in  a 
natural jway  ;  but  a  regard  must  be  had  to  the  subject ;  that  it  contain  some  par- 
ticular beauty  in  itself,  and  that  it  be  different  in  every  Eclogue.  Besides,  in  each 
of  them  a  designed  scene  or  prospect  is  to  be  presented  to  our  view,  which  should 
likewise  have  its  variety.^  This  variety  is  obtained  in  a  great  degree  by  frequent 
comparisons,  drawn  from  the  most  agreeable  objects  of  the  country  ;  by  inter- 
rogations to  things  inanimate  ;  by  beautiful  digressions,  but  those  short ;  some- 
times by  insisting  a  little  on  circumstances  ;  and  lastly,  by  elegant  turns  on  the 
words,  which  render  the  numbers  extremely  sweet  and  pleasing.  As  for  the 
numbers  themselves,  though  they  are  properly  of  the  heroic  measure,  they  should 
be  the  smoothest,  the  most  easy  and  flowing  imaginable. 

It  is  by  rules  like  these  that  we  ought  to  judge  of  Pastoral.  And  since  the  in- 
structions given  for  any  art  are  to  be  delivered  as  that  art  is  in  perfection,  they 
must  of  necessity  be  derived  from  those  in  whom  it  is  acknowledged  so  to  be. 
It  is  therefore  from  the  practice  of  Theocritus  and  Virgil,  (the  only  undisputed 
authors  of  Pastoral)  that  the  Criticks  have  drawn  the  foregoing  notions  concern- 
ing it. 

Theocritus  excels  all  others  in  Nature  and  simplicity.  The  subjects  of  his 
Idyllia  are  purely  pastoral ;  but  he  is  not  so  exact  in  his  persons,  having  intro- 

1  Rapin,  de  Cartn.  Past.  p.  2.     P.  3  Pref.  to  Virg.  Past,  in  Dryd.  Virg.     P. 

2  Rapin,  Reflex,  sur  VArt  Poet.   d'Artst.         *  Fontenelle's  Disc  0/ Pastorals.     P. 
p.  2.     Refl,  xxvii.     P.  6  See  the  forementioned  Preface.     P, 


8  PASTORALS. 

duced  reapers  ^  and  fishermen  as  well  as  shepherds.  He  is  apt  to  be  too  long  in 
his  descriptions,  of  which  that  of  the  Cup  in  the  first  pastoral  is  a  remarkable 
instance.  In  the  manners  he  seems  a  little  defective,  for  his  swains  are  sometimes 
abusive  and  immodest,  and  perhaps  too  much  inclining  to  rusticity;  for  instance, 
in  his  fourth  and  fifth  Idylli.  But  't  is  enough  that  all  others  learnt  their  excel- 
lencies from  him,  and  that  his  Dialect  alone  has  a  secret  charm  in  it,  which  no 
other  could  ever  attain. 

Virgil,  who  copies  Theocritus,  refines  upon  his  original :  and  in  all  points  where 
judgment  is  principally  concerned,  he  is  much  superior  to  his  master.  Though 
some  of  his  subjects  are  not  pastoral  in  themselves,  but  only  seem  to  be  such; 
they  have  a  wonderful  variety  in  them,  which  the  Greek  was  a  stranger  to.2  He 
exceeds  him  in  regularity  and  brevity,  and  falls  short  of  him  in  nothing  but  sim- 
plicity and  propriety  of  style  ;  the  first  of  which  perhaps  was  the  fault  of  his  age, 
and  the  last  of  his  language. 

Among  the  moderns,  their  success  has  been  greatest  who  have  most  endeav- 
oured to  make  these  ancients  their  pattern.  The  most  considerable  Genius 
appears  in  the  famous  Tasso,  and  our  Spenser.  Tasso  in  his  Aminta  has  as  far 
excelled  all  the  Pastoral  writers,  as  in  his  Gierusalemme  he  has  out-done  the  Epic 
Poets  of  his  country.  But  as  this  Piece  seems  to  have  been  the  original  of  a  new 
sort  of  poem,  the  pastoral  Comedy,  in  Italy,  it  cannot  so  well  be  considered  as  a 
copy  of  the  ancients.  Spenser's  Calendar,  in  Mr.  Dryden's  opinion,  is  the  most 
complete  work  of  this  kind  which  any  Nation  has  produced  ever  since  the  time 
of  Virgil.^  Not  but  that  he  may  be  thought  imperfect  in  some  few  points.  His 
Eclogues  are  somewhat  too  long,  if  we  compare  them  with  the  ancients.  He  is 
sometimes  too  allegorical,  and  treats  of  matters  of  religion  in  a  pastoral  style,  as 
the  Mantuan  had  done  before  him.  He  has  employed  the  Lyric  measure,  which 
is  contrary  to  the  practice  of  the  old  Poets.  His  Stanza  is  not  still  the  same,  nor 
always  well  chosen.  This  last  may  be  the  reason  his  expression  is  sometimes  not 
concise  enough :  for  the  Tetrastic  has  obHged  iiim  to  extend  his  sense  to  the 
length  of  four  lines,  which  would  have  been  more  closely  confined  in  the  Couplet. 

In  the  manners,  thoughts,  and  characters,  he  comes  near  to  Theocritus  himself ; 
tho',  notwithstanding  all  the  care  he  has  taken,  he  is  certainly  inferior  in  his 
Dialect :  For  the  Doric  had  its  beauty  and  propriety  in  the  time  of  Theocritus ; 
it  was  used  in  part  of  Greece,  and  frequent  in  the  mouths  of  many  of  the  greatest 
persons :  whereas  the  old  English  and  country  phrases  of  Spenser  were  either  en- 
tirely obsolete,  or  spoken  only  by  people  of  the  lowest  condition.  As  there  is  a 
difference  betwixt  simplicity  and  rusticity,  so  the  expression  of  simple  thoughts 
should  be  plain,  but  not  clownish.  The  addition  he  has  made  of  a  Calendar  to 
his  Eclogues,  is  very  beautiful ;  since  by  this,  besides  the  general  moral  of  inno- 
cence and  simplicity,  which  is  common  to  other  authors  of  Pastoral,  he  has  one 
peculiar  to  himself ;  he  compares  human  Life  to  the  several  Seasons,  and  at  once 
exposes  to  his  readers  a  view  of  the  great  and  little  worlds,  in  their  various  changes 
and  aspects.     Yet  the  scrupulous  division  of  his  Pastorals  into  months,  has  obliged 

1  eEPISTAI  Idyl.  x.  and  'AAIEIS  Idyl.  2  Rapin,  Reft,  on  Arist.,  part  n.  refl.  xxvii. 
xxi.    P.  Pref.  to  the  Eel.  in  Dryden's  Virg.    P. 

8  Dedication  to  Virg.  Eel.    P. 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  PASTORAL  POETRY.  9 

him  either  to  repeat  the  same  description,  in  other  words,  for  three  Months  to- 
gether ;  or,  when  it  was  exhausted  before,  entirely  to  omit  it :  whence  it  comes 
to  pass,  that  some  of  his  Eclogues  (as  the  sixth,  eighth,  and  tenth  for  example) 
have  nothing  but  their  Titles  to  distinguish  them.  The  reason  is  evident,  because 
the  year  has  not  that  variety  in  it  to  furnish  every  month  with  a  particular 
description,  as  it  may  every  season. 

Of  the  following  Eclogues  I  shall  only  say,  that  these  four  comprehend  all  the 
subjects  which  the  Criticks  upon  Theocritus  and  Virgil  will  allow  to  be  fit  for 
pastoral :  That  they  have  as  much  variety  of  description,  in  respect  of  the  several 
seasons,  as  Spenser's :  that  in  order  to  add  to  this  variety,  the  several  times  of  the 
day  are  observ'd,  the  rural  employments  in  each  season  or  time  of  day,  and  the 
rural  scenes  or  places  proper  to  such  employments ;  not  without  some  regard  to 
the  several  ages  of  man,  and  the  different  passions  proper  to  each  age. 

But  after  all,  if  they  have  any  merit,  it  is  to  be  attributed  to  some  good  old 
Authors,  whose  works  as  I  had  leisure  to  study,  so  I  hope  I  have  not  wanted  care 
to  imitate. 


PASTORALS. 


SPRING.^ 
THE  FIRST   PASTORAL, 

OR 

DAMON. 

TO   SIR  WILLIAM   TRUMBAL.^ 

FIRST  in  these  fields  I  try  the  sylvan  strains, 
Nor  blush  to  sport  on  Windsor's  blissful  plains : 
Fair  Thames,  flow  gently  from  thy  sacred  spring, 
While  on  thy  banks  Sicilian  Muses  sing ; 


1  These  Pastorals  were  written  at  the  age  of 
sixteen,  and  then  passed  through  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Walsh,  Mr.  Wycherley,  G.  Granville  after- 
wards Lord  Landsdown,  Sir  William  Trumbal, 
Dr.  Garth,  Lord  Hallifax,  Lord  Somers,  Mr. 
Mainwaring,  and  others.  All  these  gave  our 
author  the  greatest  encouragement,  and  particu- 
larly Mr.  Walsh  (whom  Mr.  Dryden,  in  his 
postscript  to  Virgil,  calls  the  best  critic  of  his 
age).  **  The  author  (says  he)  seems  to  have  a 
particular  genius  for  this  kind  of  poetry,  and 
a  judgment  that  much  exceeds  his  years.  He 
has  taken  very  freely  from  the  ancients.  But 
what  he  has  mixed  of  his  own  with  theirs  is  no 
way  inferior  to  what  he  has  taken  from  them. 
It  is  not  flattery  at  all  to  say  that  Virgil  had 
written  nothing  so  good  at  his  age.  His  preface 
is  very  judicious  and  learned."  Letter  to  Mr. 
Wycherley,  Ap.  1705.  The  Lord  Lansdown 
about  the  same  time,  mentioning  the  youth  of 
our  poet,  says  (in  a  printed  letter  of  the  charac- 
ter of  Mr.  Wycherley)  '*  that  if  he  goes  on  as  he 
has  begun  in  the  pastoral  way,  as  Virgil  first 
tried  his  strength,  we  may  hope  to  see  English 
poetry  vie  with  the  Roman,",  etc.  Notwith- 
standing the  early  time  of  their  production,  the 
author  esteemed  these  as  the  most  correct  in 
the  versification,  and  musical  in  the  numbers, 
of  all  his  works.  The  reason  for  his  labouring 
them  into  so  much  softness,  was,  doubtless, 
that  this  sort  of  poetry  derives  almost  its  whole 
beauty  from  a  natural  ease    of   thought  and 


smoothness  of  verse;  whereas  that  of  most 
other  kinds  consists  in  the  strength  and  fulness 
of  both.  In  a  letter  of  his  to  Mr.  Walsh  about 
this  time  we  find  an  enumeration  of  several 
niceties  in  versification,  which  perhaps  have 
never  been  strictly  observed  in  any  English 
poem,  except  in  these  Pastorals.  They  were  not 
printed  till  1709.     P. 

2  Sir  IVilli'am  Trumbal.']  Our  author's 
friendship  with  this  gentleman  commenced  at 
very  unequal  years ;  he  was  under  sixteen,  but 
Sir  William  above  sixty,  and  had  lately  resigned 
his  employment  of  Secretary  of  State  to  King 
William.  P.  [Sir  William  Trumball,  whom 
Macaulay  (chap,  xxi)  characterises  as  **  a 
learned  civilian  and  an  experienced  diplomatist, 
of  moderate  opinions  and  of  temper  cautious  to 
timidity,"  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State  in 
1691  and  resigned  in  1697  to  make  way  for  a 
more  zealous  partisan.  He  died  at  his  native 
place  of  East  Hamstead  near  Binfield,  and  Pope 
honoured  his  memory  by  an  epitaph  (II). 
Trumball  was  the  first  to  recognise  the  merits 
of  the  Essay  on  Criticism,  and  to  induce  its 
author  to  publish  it;  he  also  eulogised  the  Rape 
of  the  Lock  and  encouraged  the  translation  of 
the  Iliad.  Of  Trumball  it  is  related  that  being 
in  1687  appointed  ambassador  to  the  Ottoman 
Porte,  he  performed  the  journey  on  foot,  thus 
outdoing  by  anticipation  the  German  poet's 
Promenade  to  Syracuse.^ 


SPRING.  \\ 

Let  vernal  airs  thro'  trembling  osiers  play,  5 

And  Albion's  cliffs  resound  the  rural  lay. 

You,  that  too  wise  for  pride,  too  good  for  pow'r, 

Enjoy  the  glory  to  be  great  no  more, 

And  carrying  with  you  all  the  world  can  boast, 

To  all  the  world  illustriously  are  lost !  10 

0  let  my  Muse  her  tender  reed  inspire, 

Till  in  your  native  shades  ^  you  tune  the  lyre : 

So  when  the  Nightingale  to  rest  removes, 

The  Thrush  may  chant  to  the  forsaken  groves, 

But,  charm'd  to  silence,  listens  while  she  sings,  1 5 

And  all  th'  aerial  audience  clap  their  wings. 

Soon  as  the  flocks  shook  off  the  nightly  dews, 
Two  Swains,  whom  Love  kept  wakeful,  and  the  Muse, 
Pour'd  o'er  the  whitening  vale  their  fleecy  care, 
Fresh  as  the  morn,  and  as  the  season  fair :  20 

The  dawn  now  blushing  on  the  mountain's  side, 
Thus  Daphnis  spoke,  and  Strephon  thus  reply'd. 

Daphnis. 

Hear  how  the  birds,  on  ev'ry  bloomy  spray, 
With  joyous  musick  wake  the  dawning  day! 
Why  sit  we  mute  when  early  linnets  sing,  25 

When  warbling  Philomel  salutes  the  spring? 
Why  sit  we  sad  when  Phosphor  shines  so  clear, 
And  lavish  nature  paints  the  purple  Year  ?  ^ 

Strephon. 

Sing  then,  and  Damon  shall  attend  the  strain. 
While  yon'  slow  oxen  turn  the  furrow'd  Plain.  30 

Here  the  bright  crocus  and  blue  vi'let  glow ; 
Here  western  winds  on  breathing  roses  blow. 

1  '11  stake  yon'  lamb,  that  near  the  fountain  plays, 
And  from  the  brink  his  dancing  shade  surveys. 

Daphnis. 

And  I  this  bowl,  where  wanton  Ivy  twines,  35 

And  swelling  clusters  bend  the  curling  vines : 
Four  figures  rising  from  the  work  appear. 
The  various  seasons  of  the  rolling  year ; 
And  what  is  that,  which  binds  the  radiant  sky, 
Where  twelve  fair  Signs  in  beauteous  order  lie?  40 

* /«  your  native  shades.^  Sir  W.  Trum-  "^purple  year?']  Purple  here  used  in  the 
bal  was  born  in  Windsor- Forest,  to  which  he  Latin  sense,  of  the  brightest,  most  vivid  colour- 
retreated,  after  he  had  resigned  the  post  of  ing  in  general,  not  of  that  peculiar  tint  so  called. 
Secretary  of  State  to  King  William  III.    P.  Warburton.      [Ver  purpureum.     Verg.   Eel. 

ix.  40.] 


12  PASTORALS. 


Damon. 


Then  sing  by  turns,  by  turns  the  Muses  sing, 
Now  hawthorns  blossom,  now  the  daisies  spring, 
Now  leaves  the  trees,  and  fiow'rs  adorn  the  ground, 
Begin,  the  vales  shall  evVy  note  rebound. 

Strephon. 

Inspire  me,  Phoebus,  in  my  Delia's  praise  45 

With  Waller's  1  strains,  or  Granville's  ^  moving  lays! 
A  milk-white  bull  shall  at  your  altars  stand, 
That  threats  a  fight,  and  spurns  the  rising  sand. 

Daphnis. 

O  Love!  for  Sylvia  let  me  gain  the  prize. 
And  make  my  tongue  victorious  as  her  eyes  ;  50 

No  lambs  or  sheep  for  victims  I  '11  impart, 
Thy  victim.  Love,  shall  be  the  shepherd's  heart. 

Strephon. 

Me  gentle  Delia  beckons  from  the  plain, 
Then  hid  in  shades,  eludes  her  eager  swain ; 
But  feigns  a  laugh,  to  see  me  search  around,  55 

And  by  that  laugh  the  willing  fair  is  found. 

Daphnis. 

The  sprightly  Sylvia  trips  along  the  green. 
She  runs,  but  hopes  she  does  not  run  unseen ; 
While  a  kind  glance  at  her  pursuer  flies, 
How  much  at  variance  are  her  feet  and  eyes!  60 

Strephon. 

O'er  golden  sands  let  rich  Pactolus  flow, 
And  trees  weep  amber  on  the  banks  of  Po ;  ^ 
Blest  Thames's  shores  the  brightest  beauties  yield, 
Feed  here  my  lambs,  I  '11  seek  no  distant  field. 

*  [Edmund  Waller  born  1605,  died,  1687.]  of  Bideford;    and  after  undergoing  temporary 

'  Granville  —\  George  Granville,  afterwards  imprisonment  for  supposed  connection  with  the 

Lord   Landsdown,  known  for  his  poems,  most  Scottish  insurrection  of  1715,  died  in  1735.    His 

of  which   he   composed  very  young,  and  pro-  poems,  of  which   he  says  that  they  *'  seem  to 

posed  Waller  as  his  model.     P.  begin  where  Mr.   Waller  left  off,  though  far 

[Born  about  1667  and  connected  by  descent  unequal  and  short  of  so  unimitable  an  original," 

with   the   Stuart   cause,   George  Granville   re-  contain  little  or  nothing  deserving  to  be  read; 

mained  in  retirement  during  the  reign  of  Wil-  but    though   his  Myra   is   forgotten,   his  own 

liam  III.;  but  entered  Parliament  in  the  reign  modest  estimate  of  his  poetic  merits  deserves  to 

of  Queen  Anne,  and  on  the  accession  to  power  be  remembered  by  the  side  of  Pope's  praises  in 

of  the  Tories  in  1710  took  office  as  secretary  at  the  Dedication  to  Windsor  Forest.^ 
war.    In  1711  he  was  created  Lord  Lansdowne         ^  [^gee  Ov.  Metam.  11.  364-6.] 


SPRING.  13 

Daphnis. 

Celestial  Venus  haunts  Idalia's  groves ;  65 

Diana  Cynthus,  Ceres  Hybla  loves  ; 
If  Windsor-shades  delight  the  matchless  maid, 
Cynthus  and  Hybla  yield  to  Windsor-shade. 

Strephon. 

All  nature  mourns^  the  Skies  relent  in  show'rs, 
Hush'd  are  the  birds,  and  closed  the  drooping  flow'rs ;  70 

If  Delia  smile,  the  flow'rs  begin  to  spring, 
The  skies  to  brighten,  and  the  birds  to  sing. 

Daphnis. 

All  nature  laughs,  the  groves  are  fresh  and  fair, 
The  Sun^s  mild  lustre  warms  the  vital  air ; 

If  Sylvia  smiles,  new  glories  gild  the  shore,  75 

And  vanquished  nature  seems  to  charm  no  more. 

Strephon. 

In  spring  the  fields,  in  autumn  hills  I  love, 
At  morn  the  plains,  at  noon  the  shady  grove, 
But  Delia  always  ;  absent  from  her  sight, 
Nor  plains  at  morn,  nor  groves  at  noon  delight.  80 

Daphnis. 

Sylvia 's  like  autumn  ripe,  yet  mild  as  May, 
More  bright  than  noon,  yet  fresh  as  early  day ; 
Ev'n  spring  displeases,  when  she  shines  not  here ; 
But  blest  with  her,  't  is  spring  throughout  the  year. 

Strephon. 

Say,  Daphnis,  say,  in  what  glad  soil  appears,  85 

A  wond'rous  Tree  that  sacred  Monarchs  bears :  ^ 
Tell  me  but  this,  and  I  '11  disclaim  the  prize, 
And  give  the  conquest  to  thy  Sylvia's  eyes. 

Daphnis. 

Nay  tell  me  first,  in  what  more  happy  fields 
The  Thistle  springs,  to  which  the  Lily  yields :  ^  90 

And  then  a  nobler  prize  I  will  resign ; 
For  Sylvia,  charming  Sylvia,  shall  be  thine. 

"^  A  wond'rous  Tree  that  sacred  Monarchs  2  ff^g  Thistle  springs ^  to  which  the  Lily 

iears.'\   An  allusion  to  the  Royal  Oak,  in  which  yields,]  alludes  to  the  device  of  the  Scots  mon- 

Charles  II.  had  been  hid  from  the  pursuit  after  archs,  the  thistle  worn  by  Queen  Anne;  and  to 

the  battle  of  Worcester.    P.  the  arms  of  France,  the  fleur  de  lys.  P.  [In  the 


14  PASTORALS. 


Damon. 


Cease  to  contend,  for,  Daphnis,  I  decree, 
The  bowl  to  Strephon,  and  the  lamb  to  thee : 
Blest  Swains,  whose  Nymphs  in  ev'ry  grace  excel ;  ^      95 

Blest  Nymphs,  whose  Swains  those  graces  sing  so  well! 
Now  rise,  and  haste  to  yonder  woodbine  bow'rs, 
A  soft  retreat  from  sudden  vernal  show'rs. 
The  turf  with  rural  dainties  shall  be  crownM, 
While  opening  blooms  diffuse  their  sweets  around.  icx) 

For  see!  the  gathering  flocks  to  shelter  tend, 
And  from  the  Pleiads  fruitful  show'rs  descend. 


SUMMER. 
THE  SECOND  PASTORAL, 

OR 

ALEXIS. 

TO   DR.  GARTH. 

A  SHEPHERD'S  Boy  (he  seeks  no  better  name) 
Led  forth  his  flocks  along  the  silver  Thame,^ 
Where  dancing  sun-beams  on  the  waters  play'd,^ 
And  verdant  alders  formed  a  quivVing  shade. 
Soft  as  he  mourn'd,  the  streams  forgot  to  flow,  5 

The  flocks  around  a  dumb  compassion  show, 
The  Naiads  wept  in  ev'ry  wat'ry  bow'r, 
And  Jove  consented  in  a  silent  shpwV. 
Accept,  O  Garth,3  the  Muse's  early  lays, 

early  part  of  Queen  Anne's  reign  the  royal  arms  was  re-established  Dec.  31,  1703.    Annals  of 

were  the  same  as  those  of  her  father.   The  union  England,  iii.  173-4,  and  182.] 

with  Scotland  occasioned  a  change  of  armorial         ^  {Thame.     Spenser    repeatedly   uses    this 

bearings;  and  they  then  appeared,  England  and  form.] 

Scotland  impaled  in  the  first  and  fourth  quar-         2  Thg   scene  of  this  pastoral  by  the  river's 

ter;  France  in  the  second;  and  Ireland  in  the  side;    suitable  to  the  heat  of  the  season;    the 

third.     On  the  great  seal  prepared  in  the  year  time  noon.     P. 

of  the  union  (1706)  we  have  England  and  Scot-         ^  j)r^  Samuel  Garth,  author  of  The  Dispen- 

land  only,  and  a  new  badge,  the  rose  and  thistle  sary,  was  one  of  the  first  friends  of  the  author, 

conjoined.    The  Scottish  order  of  the  Thistle  whose  acquaintance  with  him  began  at  fourteen 


SUMMER.  15 

That  adds  this  wreath  of  Ivy  to  thy  Bays ;  10 

Hear  what  from  Love  unpractis'd  hearts  endure, 
From  Love,  the  sole  disease  thou  canst  not  cure. 

Ye  shady  beeches,  and  ye  cooling  streams, 
Defence  from  Phoebus',  not  from  Cupid's  beams, 
;         To  you  I  mourn,  nor  to  the  deaf  I  sing,  15 

The  woods  shall  answer,  and  their  echo  ring.i 
The  hills  and  rocks  attend  my  doleful  lay, 
Why  art  thou  prouder  and  more  hard  than  they? 
The  bleating  sheep  with  my  complaints  agree, 
They  parch'd  with  heat,  and  I  inflam'd  by  thee.  20 

The  sultry  Sirius  burns  the  thirsty  plains. 
While  in  thy  heart  eternal  winter  reigns. 

Where  stray  ye.  Muses,  in  what  lawn  or  grove, 
While  your  Alexis  pines  in  hopeless  love? 
In  those  fair  fields  where  sacred  Isis  glides,  25 

Or  else  where  Cam  his  winding  vales  divides  ?* 
As  in  the  crystal  spring  I  view  my  face. 
Fresh  rising  blushes  paint  the  wat'ry  glass ; 
But  since  those  graces  please  thy  eyes  no  more, 
I  shun  the  fountains  which  I  sought  before.  30 

Once  I  was  skill'd  in  evVy  herb  that  grew. 
And  ev'ry  plant  that  drinks  the  morning  dew ; 
Ah  wretched  shepherd,  what  avails  thy  art. 
To  cure  thy  lambs,  but  not  to  heal  thy  heart! 

Let  other  swains  attend  the  rural  care,  35 

Feed  fairer  flocks,  or  richer  fleeces  shear : 
But  nigh  yon'  mountain  let  me  tune  my  lays. 
Embrace  my  Love,  and  bind  my  brows  with  bays. 
That  flute  is  mine  which  Colin's  ^  tuneful  breath 
Inspir'd  when  living,  and  bequeath'd  in  death ;  40 

He  said :  Alexis,  take  this  pipe,  the  same 
That  taught  the  groves  my  Rosalinda's  name : 
But  now  the  reeds  shall  hang  on  yonder  tree, 
For  ever  silent,  since  despis'd  by  thee. 

Oh!  were  I  made  by  some  transforming  pow'r  45 

The  captive  bird  that  sings  within  thy  bow'r! 

or  fifteen.    Their  friendship  continued  from  the  ring\  is  a  line  out  of  Spenser's  Epithalamion. 

year  1703'to  1718,  which  was  that  of  his  death.  P.     [It  is  the  refrain  of  that  poem.] 
P.    [Dr.  afterwards  Sir  Samuel  Garth,  the  author         2  [Xhe  Cam,  as  well  as  many  other  rivers 

of  the  above-mentioned  mock-heroic  poem  and  whose  names  are  formed  from  the  same  Celtic 

a  distinguished  physician,  died  in  1718.     Pope,  root,  derives  his  appellation  from  the  tortuous- 

who  in  his  Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  speaks  of  ness  of  his  course.     See  Isaac  Taylor's  Words 

*  well-natured  '  Garth  as  one  who  *  inflam'd  him  and  Places,  p.  217.] 

with  early  praise,'  bestows  a  similar  epithet  upon  "^  Colin.^     The  name  taken  by  Spenser  in  his 

him  in  a  letter  regretting  his  death,  where  he  ^^/^^z^^j,  where  his  mistress  is  celebrated  under 

also  pays  him  the  singular  compliment  that  *  if  that  of  Rosalinda.    P.    [Colin  in  the  ^'^^/A^risTj 

ever  there  was  a  good  Christian  without  know-  A'a/^w^ar  generally,  but  not  always,  appears  to 

ing  himself  to  be  so,  it  was  Dr.  Garth.']  stand  for  Spenser.     The  ingenious  author  of  the 

^  The  woods  shall  answer,  and  their  echo  life  prefixed  to  Church's  edition  of  Spenser  has 


i6  PASTORALS. 

Then  might  my  voice  thy  list'ning  ears  employ, 
And  I  those  kisses  he  receives,  enjoy. 

And  yet  my  numbers  please  the  rural  throng, 
Rough  Satyrs  dance,  and  Pan  applauds  the  song :  50 

The  Nymphs,  forsaking  ev'ry  cave  and  spring, 
Their  early  fruit,  and  milk-white  turtles  bring ; 
Each  amVous  nymph  prefers  her  gifts  in  vain, 
Gn  you  their  gifts  are  all  bestow'd  again. 

For  you  the  swains  the  fairest  flowVs  design,  55 

And  in  one  garland  all  their  beauties  join  ; 
Accept  the  wreath  which  you  deserve  alone, 
In  whom  all  beauties  are  comprised  in  one. 

See  what  delights  in  sylvan  scenes  appear! 
Descending  Gods  have  found  Elysium  here.  60 

In  woods  bright  Venus  with  Adonis  stray'd, 
And  chaste  Diana  haunts  the  forest-shade. 
Come,  lovely  nymph,  and  bless  the  silent  hours, 
When  swains  from  shearing  seek  their  nightly  bow'rs, 
When  weary  reapers  quit  the  sultry  field,  65 

And  crown'd  with  corn  their  thanks  to  Ceres  yield. 
This  harmless  grove  no  lurking  viper  hides, 
But  in  my  breast  the  serpent  Love  abides. 
Here  bees  from  blossoms  sip  the  rosy  dew. 
But  your  Alexis  knows  no  sweets  but  you.  70 

Oh  deign  to  visit  our  forsaken  seats. 
The  mossy  fountains,  and  the  green  retreats ! 
Where'er  you  walk,  cool  gales  shall  fan  the  glade ; 
Trees,  where  you  sit,  shall  crowd  into  a  shade ; 
Where'er  you  tread,  the  blushing  flowers  shall  rise,  75 

And  all  things  flourish  where  you  turn  your  eyes.^ 
Oh !  how  I  long  with  you  to  pass  my  days. 
Invoke  the  Muses,  and  resound  your  praise ! 
Your  praise  the  birds  shall  chant  in  ev'ry  grove, ^ 
And  winds  shall  waft  it  to  the  pow'rs  above,  80 

But  would  you  sing,  and  rival  Orpheus'  strain. 
The  wond'ring  forests  soon  should  dance  again ; 
The  moving  mountains  hear  the  pow'rful  call. 
And  headlong  streams  hang  list'ning  in  their  fall! 

But  see,  the  shepherds  shun  the  noonday  heat,  85 

The  lowing  herds  to  murm'ring  brooks  retreat, 

invented  a  Kentish  lady,  Miss  Rose  Lynde,  for    absurdity  which  Spenser  himself  overlooked,  of 
the  original  of  Rosalind.]  introducing  wolves  into  England.     P.  [e.g.  in 

1  Very  much  like  some  lines  in  Hudtbras,     Sheph.  Kal.  July.] 

but  certainly  no  resemblance  was  intended.  Where'er  you  tread,  your  feet  shall  set 

2  Your   praise   the  tuneful  birds   to  heav'n        The  primrose  and  the  violet ; 

shall  bear.  Nature  her  charter  shall  renew, 

And  list'ning  wolves  grow  milder  as  they  And  take  all  lives  of  things  from  you. 

hear.  Bowles. 

So  the  verses  were  originally  written.     But  [The  familiar  original  of  the  familiar  idea  is 

the  author,  young  as  he  was,  soon  found  the  of  course  in  Persius  ii.  38.] 


AUTUMN',  17 

To  closer  shades  the  panting  flocks  remove ; 

Ye  Gods!  and  is  there  no  relief  for  Love? 

But  soon  the  sun  with  milder  rays  descends 

To  the  cool  ocean,  where  his  journey  ends.  90 

On  me  love's  fiercer  flames  for  ever  prey, 

By  night  he  scorches,  as  he  burns  by  day. 


AUTUMN.i 
THE  THIRD  PASTORAL, 

OR 

HYLAS  AND  ^GON. 

TO  MR.   WYCHERLEY. 

BENEATH  the  shade  a  spreading  Beech  displays, 
Hylas  and  -^gon  sung  their  rural  lays, 
This  mourn'd  a  faithless,  that  an  absent  Love, 
And  Delia's  name  and  Doris'  fill'd  the  Grove. 
Ye  Mantuan  nymphs,  your  sacred  succour  bring ;  5 

Hylas  and  yEgon's  rural  lays  I  sing. 

Thou,  whom  the  Nine  ^  with  Plautus'  wit  inspire, 
The  art  of  Terence,  and  Menander's  fire ;  ^ 

1  This  Pastoral  consists  of  two  parts,  like  blame  to  be  respectively  attached  to  their  heroes, 

the  viiith  of  Virgil :  the  Scene,  a  Hill ;  the  Time,  vary  considerably.] 

at  Sun-set.     P.  *  The    art  of   Terence,  and  Menander's 

*  Thou,  whom  the  Ntne'\  Mr.  Wycherley,  a  yire;'\  This  line  evidently  alludes  to  that  famous 

famous  author  of  comedies ;  of  which  the  most  character  given  of  Terence,  by  Caesar,' 

celebrated  were  the  Plain-dealer  and  Country-  Tu  quoque,  tu  in  summis,  &  dimidiate  Menan- 

Wi/e.     He  was  a  writer  of  infinite  spirit,  satire,  der, 

and  wit.     The  only  objection  made  to  him  was  Pomeris,  et  merito,  puri  sermonis  amator; 

that  he  had  too  much.     However  he  was  fol-  Lenibus  atque  utinara  scriptis  adjuncta  foret  vis 

lowed  in  the  same  way  by  Mr.  Congreve ;  though  Comica. 

with  a  little  more  correctness.     P.  So  that  the  judicious  critic  sees  he  should  have 

[William  Wycherley  (born  1640,  died  1715)  said  —  with   Menander's  Jire.     For  what   the 

was  in  the  64th  year  of  his  age  at  the  time  when  poet  meant,  in  this  line,  was,  that  his  friend  had 

he  was  thus  addressed  by  Pope.     In  the  follow-  joined  to  Terence's  art  what  Caesar   thought 

ing  year  Wycherley  submitted  his  poems  to  the  wanting  in  Terence,  namely  the  vis  comica  of 

correction  of  his  youthful  friend;  but  the  *  hon-  Menander.     Besides,  —  and  Menander's  Jire 

est  freedom '  with  which  the  latter  exercised  his  is  making  that  the  characteristic  of  Menander 

office  of  censor,  produced  a  coolness  between  which  was  not.     His  character  was  the  having 

the  pair  which  prevented  a  renewal  of  friendly  art  and  comic  spirit  in  perfect  conjunction,  of 

intercourse.     The  judgments    of  Pope's    and  which  Terence  having  only  the  first,  he  is  called 

Wycherley's  biographers  as  to  the  amount  of  the  half  of  Menander.     Warburton. 
C 


i8  PASTORALS, 

Whose  sense  instructs  us,  and  whose  humour  charms, 
Whose  judgment  sways  us,  and  whose  spirit  warms!  lo 

Oh,  skilPd  in  Naturei  see  the  hearts  of  Swains, 
Their  artless  passions,  and  their  tender  pains. 

Now  setting  Phoebus  shone  serenely  bright, 
And  fleecy  clouds  were  streak'd  with  purple  light ; 
When  tuneful  Hylas  with  melodious  moan,  15 

Taught  rocks  to  weep,  and  made  the  mountains  groan. 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  sighs  away! 
To  Delia's  ear,  the  tender  notes  convey. 
As  some  sad  Turtle  his  lost  love  deplores. 
And  with  deep  murmurs  fills  the  sounding  shores ;  20 

Thus,  far  from  Delia,  to  the  winds  I  mourn, 
Alike  unheard,  unpity'd,  and  forlorn. 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  sighs  along! 
For  her,  the  feathered  quires  neglect  their  song ; 
For  her,  the  limes  their  pleasing  shades  deny ;  25 

For  her,  the  lilies  hang  their  heads  and  die. 
Ye  flowers  that  droop,  forsaken  by  the  spring. 
Ye  birds  that,  left  by  summer,  cease  to  sing, 
Ye  trees  that  fade  when  autumn-heats  remove. 
Say,  is  not  absence  death  to  those  who  love?  30 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  sighs  away! 
Curs'd  be  the  fields  that  cause  my  Delia's  stay ; 
Fade  ev'ry  blossom,  wither  ev'ry  tree, 
Die  ev'ry  flow'r,  and  perish  all,  but  she. 

What  have  I  said  ?  where'er  my  Delia  flies,  35 

Let  spring  attend,  and  sudden  flow'rs  arise : 
Let  op'ning  roses  knotted  oaks  adorn. 
And  liquid  amber  drop  from  ev'ry  thorn. 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  sighs  along! 
The  birds  shall  cease  to  tune  their  ev'ning  song,  40 

The  winds  to  breathe,  the  waving  woods  to  move, 
And  streams  to  murmur,  e'er  ^  I  cease  to  love. 
Not  bubbling  fountains  to  the  thirsty  swain. 
Not  balmy  sleep  to  lab'rers  faint  with  pain. 
Not  show'rs  to  larks,  nor  sun-shine  to  the  bee,  45 

Are  half  so  charming  as  thy  sight  to  me. 

Go,  gentle  gales,  and  bear  my  sighs  away! 
Come,  Delia,  come  ;  ah,  why  this  long  delay? 
Thro'  rocks  and  caves  the  name  of  Delia  sounds, 
Delia,  each  cave  and  echoing  rock  rebounds.  5^ 

Ye  pow'rs,  what  pleasing  frenzy  sooths  my  mind! 
Do  lovers  dream,  or  is  my  Delia  kind  ? 
She  comes,  my  Delia  comes !  —  Now  cease  my  lay. 
And  cease,  ye  gales,  to  bear  my  sighs  away! 

1  [Pope*s  spelling  of  e'er,  which  Warton  and  e'er,  incorrectly  spelt  by  Shakspere  or  ere,  made 
subsequent  editors  have  altered  into  ere,  was  up  of  or,  a  corruption  of  ere  {=<er,  before) 
probably  due  to  a  reminiscence  of  the  phrase  or    and  e'er,  an  abbreviation  of  ever.'\ 


AUTUMN,  19 

Next  iEgon  sung,  while  Windsor  groves  admir'd ;  55 

Rehearse,  ye  Muses,  what  yourselves  inspired. 

Resound,  ye  hills,  resound  my  mournful  strain! 
Of  perjur'd  Doris,  dying  I  complain : 
Here  where  the  mountains  lessening  as  they  rise 
Lose  the  low  vales,  and  steal  into  the  skies :  60 

While  laboring  oxen,  spent  with  toil  and  heat, 
In  their  loose  traces  from  the  field  retreat : 
While  curling  smokes  from  village-tops  are  seen, 
And  the  fleet  shades  glide  o'er  the  dusky  green. 

Resound,  ye  hills,  resound  my  mournful  lay!  65 

Beneath  yon'  poplar  oft  we  past  the  day : 
Oft'  on  the  rind  I  carv'd  her  am'rous  vows. 
While  she  with  garlands  hung  the  bending  boughs  : 
The  garlands  fade,  the  vows  are  worn  away ; 
So  dies  her  love,  and  so  my  hopes  decay.  70 

Resound,  ye  hills,  resound  my  mournful  strain! 
Now  bright  Arcturus  glads  the  teeming  grain, 
Now  golden  fruits  on  loaded  branches  shine. 
And  grateful  clusters  ^  swell  with  floods  of  wine ; 
Now  blushing  berries  paint  the  yellow  grove ;  75 

Just  Gods!  shall  all  things  yield  returns  but  love? 

Resound,  ye  hills,  resound  my  mournful  lay! 
The  shepherds  cry,  ''•  Thy  flocks  are  left  a  prey  "  — 
Ah !  what  avails  it  me,  the  flocks  to  keep. 
Who  lost  my  heart  while  I  preserv'd  my  sheep.  80 

Pan  came,  and  ask'd,  what  magic  caus'd  my  smart, 
Or  what  ill  eyes  malignant  glances  dart  ? 
What  eyes  but  hers,  alas,  have  pow'r  to  move ! 
And  is  there  magic  but  what  dwells  in  love  ? 

Resound,  ye  hills,  resound  my  mournful  strains!  85 

I  '11  fly  from  shepherds,  flocks,  and  flow'ry  plains.  — 
From  shepherds,  flocks,  and  plains,  I  may  remove, 
Forsake  mankind,  and  all  the  world  —  but  love ! 
I  know  thee.  Love!  on  foreign  Mountains  bred. 
Wolves  gave  thee  suck,  and  savage  Tigers  fed.  90 

Thou  wert  from  ^Etna's  burning  entrails  torn, 
Got  by  fierce  whirlwinds,  and  in  thunder  born! 

Resound,  ye  hills,  resound  my  mournful  lay! 
Farewell,  ye  woods!  adieu  the  light  of  day! 
One  leap  from  yonder  cliff  shall  end  my  pains,  95 

No  more,  ye  hills,  no  more  resound  my  strains! 

Thus  sung  the  shepherds  till  th'  approach  of  night, 

"^  And  grateful    clusters  etc.     The  scene  that  what  are  now  called  the  Slopes,  extend- 

is  in  Windsor-forest.     So  this  image  is  not  so  ing  into  the  Home  Park,  are  in  Norden's  Map 

exact.     Warburton.  (1607)    described  as   *the   Deanes  Orcharde* 

[The  grapes  are  doubtful;    but  Mr.  Jesse  &c.j 
mentions,  in  his  Summer's  Day  at  Windsor^ 


PASTORALS, 

The  skies  yet  blushing  with  departing  light,i 

When  falUng  dews  with  spangles  decked  the  glade, 

And  the  low  sun  had  lengthen^  ev'ry  shade.  loo 


WINTER.2 

THE  FOURTH   PASTORAL, 

OR 

DAPHNE. 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MRS.   TEMPEST.« 

Lycidas. 

THYRSIS,  the  music  of  that  murmVing  spring, 
Is  not  so  mournful  as  the  strains  you  sing. 
Nor  rivers  winding  thro'  the  vales  below, 
So  sweetly  warble,  or  so  smoothly  flow. 

Now  sleeping  flocks  on  their  soft  fleeces  lie,  5 

The  moon,  serene  in  glory,  mounts  the  sky. 
While  silent  birds  forget  their  tuneful  lays, 
Oh  sing  of  Daphne's  fate,  and  Daphne's  praise! 

Thyrsis. 

Behold  the  groves  that  shine  with  silver  frost, 
Their  beauty  wither'd,  and  their  verdure  lost.  10 

Here  shall  I  try  the  sweet  Alexis'  strain, 
That  called  the  list'ning  Dryads  to  the  plain? 
Thames  heard  the  numbers  as  he  flow'd  along. 
And  bade  his  willows  learn  the  moving  song. 

1  There  is  a  little  inaccuracy  here ;  the  first  eclogue  being  on  the  same  subject  with  mine  on 
line  makes  the  time  after  sunset;  the  second,  Mrs.  Tempest's  death,  I  should  take  it  very 
before.     Warburton.  kindly  in  you  to  give  it  a  little  turn  as  if  it  were 

2  This  was  the  poet's  favourite  pastoral,  to  the  memory  of  the  same  lady.'  Her  death 
Warburton.  having  happened  on  the  night  of  the  great  storm 

3  Mrs.  Tempest.']  This  lady  was  of  an  in  1703,  gave  a  propriety  to  this  eclogue,  which 
ancient  family  in  Yorkshire,  and  particularly  in  its  general  turn  alludes  to  it.  The  scene  of 
admired  by  the  author's  friend  Mr.  Walsh,  who,  the  pastoral  lies  in  a  grove,  the  time  at  midnight, 
having  celebrated  her  in  a  pastoral  elegy,  desired  P.  [Walsh's  elegy  is  that  entitled  *  Delia; '  an 
his  friend  to  do  the  same,  as  appears  from  one  insignificant  piece.] 

of  his  letters,  dated  Sept.  9,  1706:   *  Your  last 


WINTER.  21 


Lycidas. 

So  may  kind  rains  their  vital  moisture  yield,  15 

And  swell  the  future  harvest  of  the  field. 
Begin ;  this  charge  the  dying  Daphne  gave, 
And  said  ;  "  Ye  shepherds,  sing  around  my  grave ! 
Sing,  while  beside  the  shaded  tomb  I  mourn, 
And  with  fresh  bays  her  rural  shrine  adorn."  20 

Thyrsis. 

Ye  gentle  Muses,  leave  your  crystal  spring, 
Let  Nymphs  and  Sylvans  cypress  garlands  bring ; 
Ye  weeping  Loves,  the  stream  with  myrtles  hide, 
And  break  your  bows,  as  when  Adonis  died ; 
And  with  your  golden  darts,  now  useless  grown,  25 

Inscribe  a  verse  on  this  relenting  stone : 
"  Letnaturechange,  let  heaven  and  earth  deplore. 
Fair*  DajDhne^'s  d^d,  and  love  is  now  no  more!" 

'T  is  done,  and  nature^s  various  charms  decay, 
See  gloomy  clouds"oEscure  the  cheerful  day!  30 

Now  hung  with  pearls  the  dropping  trees  appear, 
Their  faded  honours  scattered  on  her  bier. 
See,  where  on  earth  the  flow'ry  glories  lie. 
With  her  they  flourish^,  and  with  her  they  die. 
Ah  what  avails  the  beauties  iiature-wore  ?  35 

Fair  Daphne 's  dead,  and  beauty  is  no  more ! 

For  her  the  flocks  refuse  their  verdant  food, 
Nor  thirsty  heifers  seek  the  gliding  flood. 
The  silver  swans  her  hapless  fate  bemoan. 
In  notes  more  sad  than  when  they  sing  their  own ;  40 

In  hollow  caves  sweet  Echo  ^  silent  lies, 
Silent,  or  only  to  her  name  replies ; 
Her  name  with  pleasure  once  she  taught  the  shore, 
Now  Daphne 's  dead,  and  pleasure  is  no  more ! 

No  grateful  dews  descend  from  ev'nmg  skies,  45 

Nor  morning  odours  from  the  flowVs  arise ; 
No  rich  perfumes  refresh  the  fruitful  field. 
Nor  fragrant  herbs  their  native  incense  yield. 
The  balmy  Zephyrs,  silent  since  her  death. 
Lament  the  ceasing  of  a  sweeter  breath  ;  ^  ^O 

Th'  industrious  bees  neglect  their  golden  store ; 
Fair  Daphne's  dead,  and  sweetness  is  no  more! 

No  more  the  mounting  larks,  while  Daphne  sings. 
Shall  listening  in  mid  air  suspend  their  wings ; 
No  more  the  birds  shall  imitate  her  lays,  55 

*  *  This  expression  of  sweet  Echo  is  taken  2  <  i  ^ish  that  his  fondness  had  not  over- 
from  Contus ;  as  is  another  expression,  loose  looked  a  line  in  which  the  zephyrs  are  made  to 
traces^  Third  Past.  v.  62.*     IVarton.  lament  in  silence.'     Johnson. 


22  PASTORALS. 

Or  hush'd  with  wonder,  hearken  from  the  sprays*. 

No  more  the  streams  their  murmur  shall  forbear, 

A  sweeter  music  than  their  own  to  hear. 

But  tell  the  reeds,  and  tell  the  vocal  shore. 

Fair  Daphne's  dead,  and  music  is  no  more!  60 

Her  fate  is  whisperM  by  the  gentle  breeze, 
And  told  in  sighs  to  all  the  trembling  trees ; 
The  trembling  trees,  in  ev'ry  plain  and  wood, 
Her  fate  remurmur  to  the  silver  flood ; 

The  silver  flood,  so  lately  calm,  appears  65 

Swell'd  with  new  passion,  and  overflows  with  tears ; 
The  winds  and  trees  and  floods  her  death  deplore, 
Daphne,  our  grief!  our  glory  now  no  more! 

But  see!  where  Daphne  wondVing  mounts  on  high 
Above  the  clouds,  above  the  starry  sky!  ^  70 

Eternal  beauties  grace  the  shining  scene. 
Fields  ever  fresh,  and  groves  for  ever  green ! 
There  while  you  rest  in  Amaranthine  bow'rs, 
Or  from  those  meads  select  unfading  flow'rs, 
Behold  us  kindly,  who  your  name  implore,  75 

Daphne,  our  Goddess,  and  our  grief  no  more! 

Lycidas. 

How  all  things  listen,  while  thy  Muse  complains ! 
Such  silence  waits  on  Philomela's  strains. 
In  some  still  evening,  when  the  whisp'ring  breeze 
Pants  on  the  leaves,  and  dies  upon  the  trees.  80 

To  thee,  bright  goddess,  oft  a  lamb  shall  bleed, 
If  teeming  ewes  increase  my  fleecy  breed. 
While  plants  their  shade,  or  flowYs  their  odours  give, 
Thy  name,  thy  honour,  and  thy  praise  shall  live! 

Thyrsis. 

But  see,  Orion  sheds  unwholesome  dews,  85 

Arise,  the  pines  a  noxious  shade  diffuse ; 
Sharp  Boreas  blows,  and  Nature  feels  decay. 
Time  conquers  all,  and  we  must  Time  obey. 
Adieu,  ye  vales,  ye  mountains,  streams  and  groves. 
Adieu,  ye  shepherd's  rural  lays  and  loves  ;  90 

Adieu,  my  flocks,  farewell  ye  sylvan  crew. 
Daphne,  farewell,  and  all  the  world  adieu !  ^ 

^  [Warton    naturally    compares    the    *  same         2  These  four  last  lines  allude  to  the  several 

beautiful  change  of   circumstances '   in    Spen-  subjects  of  the  four  Pastorals,  and  to  the  sev- 

ser's  November  (S.  K.)  and  Milton's  Lycidas,  eral  scenes  of  them,  particularized  before  in 

from  line  165.]  each.    P. 


IMITATIONS. 


23 


IMITATIONS. 


SPRING. 


Vcr.  1. 

*  Prima  Syracosio  dignata  est  ludere  vcrsu, 
Nostra  nee  erubuit  sylvas  habitare  Thalia.' 
This  is  the  general  exordium  and  opening  of  the 
Pastorals,  in  imitation  of  the  6th  of  Virgil,  which 
some  have  therefore  not  improbably  thought  to 
have  been  the  first  originally.  In  the  beginnings 
of  the  other  three  Pastorals,  he  imitates  expressly 
those  which  now  stand  first  of  the  three  chief 
poets  in  this  kind,  Spenser,  Virgil,  Theocritus. 

*  A  Shepherd's  Boy  (he  seeks  no  better  name) '  — 
'  Beneath    the    shade   a  spreading   beech   dis- 
plays,'— 

'Thrysis,  the  musick  of  that  murm'ring  spring,' — 
are  manifestly  imitations  of 

—  *  A  Shepherd's  Boy  (no  better  do  him  call)  ' 

—  *  Tityre,  tu  patulae  recubans  sub  tegmine  fagi ' 
— '  *A6v  Tt  TO  \jjL6vpL(riJia  Koi  a  irtTVS,  aln6\e, 

rriva.'  P. 

Ver.  35,  36. 

*  Lenta  quibus  torno  facili  superaddita  vitis, 
Diffuses  hedera  vestit  pallente  corymbos.' 

Virg.     P. 

Ver.  38.  The  various  seasons."]  The  sub- 
ject of  these  Pastorals  engraven  on  the  bowl  is 
not  without  its  propriety.    The  shepherd's  hes- 


itation at  the  name  of  the  Zodiac,  imitates  that 
in  Virgil. 

*  Et  quis  fuit  alter, 
Descripsit  radio  totum  qui  gentibus  orbem  ? '    P. 

Ver.  41.     Then   sing  by  turns.]     Literally 
from  Virgil, 

*  Alternis  dicetis,  amant  alterna  Camaenae: 

Et  nunc  omnis  ager,  nunc  omnis  parturit  arbos. 
Nunc  frondent  sylvae,  nunc  formosissimus  an- 
nus.* P. 

Ver.  47.     A  milk-white  bull.]     Virg. 
*  Pascite  taurum, 
Qui  cornu  petat,  et  pedibus  jam  spargat  are- 
nam.' 

Ver.  58.    She  runs,  but  hopes,]     Imitation 
of  Virgil, 

*  Malo  me  Galatea  petit,  lasciva  puella, 

Et  fugit  ad  salices,  sed  se  cupit  ante  videri.'    P. 
Ver.  69.     All  nature  mourns.]      Virg. 

*  Aret  ager,  vitio  moriens  sitit  aeris  herba,  &c. 
Phyllidis  adventu  nostrae  nemus  omne  virebit.'  P. 

Ver.  90.     The  two  riddles  are  in  imitation  of 
those  in  Virg.     £cl.  iii. 

*  Die  quibus  in  terris  inscripti  nomina  Regum 
Nascantur  flores,  et  Phillida  solus  habeto.'      P. 


SUMMER. 


Ver.  8.    And  ^ove  consented.] 

*  Jupiter  et  laeto  descendet  plurimus  imbri.' 

Virg.    P. 
Ver.  15.    Nor  to  the  deaf  I  sing.] 

*  Non  canimus  surdis,  respondent  omnia  sylvae.' 

Virg.     P. 
Ver.  23.     Where  stray  ye  Muses,  etc.] 

*  Quae  nemora,  aut  qui  vos  saltus  habuere,  puellae 
Naiades,  indigno  cum  Gallus  amore  periret? 
Nam   neque   Parnassi  vobis  juga,  nam  neque 

Pindi 
Ulla  moram  fecere,  neque  Aonia  Aganippe.' 

Virg.  out  of  Theocr.    P. 
Ver.  27.    Virgil  again  from  the   Cyclops  of 
Theocritus, 

*  nuper  me  in  littore  vidi 
Cum  placidum  ventis    staret    mare,   non    ego 

Daphnim, 
Judice  te,  metuam,  si  nunquam  fallat  imago.'   P. 


Ver.  40.    bequeathed  in  death;  etc.]  Virg. 
Eel.  ii. 

*  Est  mihi  disparibus  septem  compacta  cicutis 
Fistula,  Damcetas  dono  mihi  quam  dedit  olim, 
Et  dixit  moriens,  te  nunc  habet  ista  secundum.' 

P. 

Ver.  60.     Descending  gods  have  found  Ely- 
sium  here.] 
*  Habitarunt  di  quoque  sylvas ' Virg. 

*  Et  formosus  oves  ad  flumina  pavit  Adonis.' 

Idem.     P. 

Ver.  80.     A  nd  winds  shall  waft,  etc.] 

*  Partem    aliquam,   venti,    divum    referatis    ad 

aures ! '  Virg.     P. 

Ver.  88.     Ye  gods  !  etc.] 
*Me  tamen  urit  amor,  quis  enim  modus  adsit 
amori?'  Idem.     P. 


24 


PASTORALS. 


AUTUMN, 


Ver.  37.  *  Aurea  durae 

Mala  ferant  quercus,  narcisso  floreat  ainus, 
Pinguia  corticibus  sudent  electra  myricae.' 

Virg.  Eel.  viii.     P. 
Ver.  43,  etc.'] 
*  Quale    sopor    fessis    in    gramine,   quale   per 

aestum 
Dulcis  aquae  saliente  sitim  restinguere  rive' 

Ecl,w.    P. 


Ver.  52.    *An  qui  amant,  ipsi  sibi  somnia 

fingunt?'    Wixg.  Eel.  \.    P. 
Ver.  82.     Or  what  ill  eyes.] 
*  Nescio  quis  teneros  oculus  mihi  fascinat  agnos.* 

P. 

Ver.  89.     *  Nunc  scio  quid  sit  Amor  :   duris 

in  cotibus  ilium,'  etc.    P.    This  from  Virgil  is 

much  inferior  to  the  passage  in   Theocritus, 

whence  it  is  taken.     Warton. 


WINTER. 


Ver.  I.     Thrysis,  the  music,  etc.] 

*A5u  Tt,  etc.     Theocr.  Id.  i. 
Ver.  13.     Thatnes  heard,  etc."} 
'  Audiit  Eurotas,  jussitque  ediscere  lauros.* 

Fz'r^.    P. 
Ver.  23,  24,  25. 

*  Inducite  fontibus  umbras  — 
Et  tumulum  facite,  et  tumulo  superaddite  car- 
men.' P. 
Ver.  69,  70.        *  miratur  limen  Olympi, 
Sub  pedibusque  vidit  nubes  et  sydera  Daphnis.' 
Ftri-.    P. 


Ver.  8i. 

*  illius  aram 
Saepe  tener  nostris  ab  ovilibus  imbuet  agnus.' 

Vzr^.    P. 

Ver.  86.     *  solet  esse  gravis  cantantibus  um- 
bra, Juniperi  gravis  umbra.'     Fzr^.     P. 

Ver.  88.     Tzme  conquers  all,  etc.] 
*  Omnia  vincit  amor,  et  nos  cedamus  amori.' 
Vid.  etiam  Sannazarii  Eel.  et  Spenser's  Calen- 
dar.    Warburton, 


MESSIAH, 

A   SACRED  ECLOGUE. 

In  Imitation  of  VIRGIL'S  POLLIO. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

In  reading  several  passages  of  the  Prophet  Isaiah,  which  foretell  the  coming  of 
Christ  and  the  felicities  attending  it,  I  could  not  but  observe  a  remarkable  parity 
between  many  of  the  thoughts,  and  those  in  the  Pollio  of  Virgil.  This  will  not  seem 
surprising,  when  we  reflect,  that  the  Eclogue  was  taken  from  a  Sibylline  prophecy  on 
the  same  subject.  One  may  judge  that  Virgil  did  not  copy  it  line  by  line,  but  made 
use  of  such  ideas  as  best  agreed  with  the  nature  of  pastoral  poetry,  and  disposed  them 
in  that  manner  which  served  most  to  beautify  his  piece.  I  have  endeavoured  the  same 
in  this  imitation  of  him,  though  without  admitting  any  thing  of  my  own  ;  since  it  was 
written  with  this  particular  view,  that  the  reader,  by  comparing  the  several  thoughts, 
might  see  how  far  the  images  and  descriptions  of  the  Prophet  are  superior  to  those  of 
the  Poet.  But  as  I  fear  I  have  prejudiced  them  by  my  management,  I  shall  subjoin 
the  passages  of  Isaiah,  and  those  of  Virgil,  under  the  same  disadvantage  of  a  literal 
translation.     P. 

[Dr.  Johnson,  who  translated  this  poem  into  Latin  verse  as  a  college  exercise, 
in  his  Lt/e  of  Pope  observes, '  That  the  Messiah  excels  the  PolUo  is  no  great  praise,  if 


MESSIAH. 


25 


it  be  considered  from  what  original  the  improvements  are  derived.'  Many  may, 
however,  be  indisposed  to  agree  with  the  assumption  for  which  so  triumphant  an 
explanation  is  found  in  the  above  remark.  Whilst  it  is  by  no  means  improbable  (see 
Merivale's  Romans  under  the  Etnpire,  ch.  XXVII,  referred  to  by  Conington)  that '  Virgil 
was  acquainted  with  the  prophetic  portions  of  the  Jewish  Scriptures,  if  not  directly,  at 
least  through  the  medium  of  the  so-called  Sibylline  oracles,'  these  references  are  in  the 
Roman  poet  after  all  only  ornaments  of  an  offering  distinctly  intended  to  celebrate  by 
anticipation  the  birth  of  a  Roman  child.  In  Pope  these  ornaments  become  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  poem,  which  is  thus  merely  the  paraphrase  of  an  authoritative  prophecy 
on  the  same  subject.] 

YE  Nymphs  of  Solyma  !  ^  begin  the  song : 
To  heav'nly  themes  sublimer  strains  belong. 
The  mossy  fountains,  and  the  sylvan  shades, 
The  dreams  of  Pindus  and  th'  Aonian  maids, 
Delight  no  more  —  O  thou  my  voice  inspire  5 

Who  touched  Isaiah's  hallowed  lips  with  fire! 

Rapt  into  future  times,  the  Bard  begun : 
A  Virgin  shall  conceive,  a  Virgin  bear  a  Son ! 
From  Jesse's  ^  root  behold  a  branch  arise, 
Whose  sacred  flow'r  with  fragrance  fills  the  skies :  10 

Th'  Ethereal  spirit  o'er  its  leaves  shall  move. 
And  on  its  top  descends  the  mystic  Dove. 
Ye  Heav'ns  !  ^  from  high  the  dewy  nectar  pour, 
And  in  soft  silence  shed  the  kindly  show'r! 
The  sick*  and  weak  the  healing  plant  shall  aid,  15 

From  storms  a  shelter,  and  from  heat  a  shade. 
All  crimes  shall  cease,  and  ancient  fraud  ^  shall  fail ; 
Returning  Justice  ^  lift  aloft  her  scale ; 
•  Peace  o'er  the  World  her  olive  wand  extend. 
And  white-rob'd  Innocence  from  heav'n  descend.  20 

Swift  fly  the  years,  and  rise  th'  expected  morn! 
Oh  spring  to  light,  auspicious  Babe,  be  born ! 
See  Nature  hastes  her  earliest  wreaths  to  bring, 
With  all  the  incense  of  the  breathing  spring : 
See  lofty  "^  Lebanon  his  head  advance,  25 

See  nodding  forests  on  the  mountains  dance ; 
See  spicy  clouds  from  lowly  Saron  rise. 
And  Carmel's  flow'ry  top  perfumes  the  skies ! 
Hark !  a  glad  voice  the  lonely  desert  cheers ; 
Prepare  the  way!  ^  a  God,  a  God  appears  :  30 

A  God,  a  God!  the  vocal  hills  reply, 
The  rocks  proclaim  th'  approaching  Deity. 
Lo,  earth  receives  him  from  the  bending  skies! 
Sink  down  ye  mountains,  and  ye  valleys  rise. 
With  heads  declin'd,  ye  cedars  homage  pay ;  35 

Be  smooth  ye  rocks,  ye  rapid  floods  give  way! 
The  Saviour  comes !  by  ancient  bards  foretold : 

*  [Hierosolyma,  Jerusalem.]  "  ancient  fraud]  i.e.  the  fraud  of  the  Serpent 
'  Isa.  xi.  I.                                 3  ch,  xlv.  8.            Warburton.  •  ch.  ix.  7. 

*  ch.  XXV.  4«  '  ch.  XXXV.  3.  » ch.  xi.  3, 4. 


a6  PASTORALS, 

Hear  him,^  ye  deaf,  and  all  ye  blind,  behold! 

He  from  thick  films  shall  purge  the  visual  ray, 2 

And  on  the  sightless  eye-ball  pour  the  day :  40 

'T  is  he  th'  obstructed  paths  of  sound  shall  clear, 

And  bid  new  music  charm  th'  unfolding  ear : 

The  dumb  shall  sing,  the  lame  his  crutch  forego, 

And  leap  exulting  like  the  bounding  roe. 

No  sigh,  no  murmur  the  wide  world  shall  hear,  45 

From  ev'ry  face  he  wipes  off  ev'ry  tear. 

In  adamantine  ^  chains  shall  Death  be  bound, 

And  Helps  grim  Tyrant  feel  th^  eternal  wound. 

As  the  good  shepherd  *  tends  his  fleecy  care, 

Seeks  freshest  pasture  and  the  purest  air,  50 

Explores  the  lost,  the  wand'ring  sheep  directs. 

By  day  oversees  them,  and  by  night  protects. 

The  tender  lambs  he  raises  in  his  arms. 

Feeds  from  his  hand,  and  in  his  bosom  warms ; 

Thus  shall  mankind  his  guardian  care  engage,  55 

The  promisM  father  ^  of  the  future  age. 

No  more  shall  nation  ^  against  nation  rise. 

Nor  ardent  warriours  meet  with  hateful  eyes, 

Nor  fields  with  gleaming  steel  be  covered  o'er, 

The  brazen  trumpets  kindle  rage  no  more ;  60 

But  useless  lances  into  scythes  shall  bend, 

And  the  broad  falchion  in  a  plough-share  end. 

Then  palaces  shall  rise  ;  the  joyful  Son  "^ 

Shall  finish  what  his  short-liv'd  Sire  begun ; 

Their  vines  a  shadow  to  their  race  shall  yield,  65 

And  the  same  hand  that  sow'd,  shall  reap  the  field. 

The  swain  in  barren  deserts  ^  with  surprise 

See  lilies  spring,  and  sudden  verdure  rise ; 

And  starts,  amidst  the  thirsty  wilds  to  hear 

New  falls  of  water  murmVing  in  his  ear.  70 

On  rifted  rocks,  the  dragon's  late  abodes. 

The  green  reed  trembles,  and  the  bulrush  nods. 

Waste  sandy  valleys,^  once  perplex'd  with  thorn, 

The  spiry  fir  and  shapely  box  adorn : 

To  leafless  shrubs  the  flowering  palms  succeed,  75 

And  odVous  myrtle  to  the  noisome  weed. 

The  lambs  ^^  with  wolves  shall  graze  the  verdant  mead, 

And  boys  in  flow'ry  bands  the  tiger  lead ; 

The  steer  and  lion  at  one  crib  shall  meet. 

And  harmless  serpents  ^^  lick  the  pilgrim's  feet.  80 

The  smiling  infant  in  his  hand  shall  take 

The  crested  basilisk  and  speckled  snake, 

*  ch.  xlii.  18  ;  xxxv.  5,  6.  ^  ch.  xxv.  8.  '  ch.  Ixv.  21,  22. 

2  He  from  thick  films  shall  purge  the  vis-  *  ch.  xl.  ii.  8  ch.  xxxv.  i,  7. 

ual  ray,]  The  sense  and  language  shew,  that,  ^  ch.  ix.  6.  ^  ch,  xli.  19  ;  Iv.  13. 

by  vistial  ray,  the  poet  meant  the  sight,  or,  as  ^  ch.  ii.  4.  1^  ch.  xi.  6,  7,  1. 

Milton  calls  it,  the  visual  nerve.    Warburton.  ^^  ch.  Ixv.  25, 


IMITATIONS,  27 

Pleas'd  the  green  lustre  of  the  scales  survey, 

And  with  their  forky  tongues  shall  innocently  play. 

Rise,  crown'd  with  light,  imperial  Salem,^  rise!  85 

Exalt  thy  tow'ry  head,  and  lift  thy  eyes! 

See,  a  long  race  ^  thy  spacious  courts  adorn ; 

See  future  sons,  and  daughters  yet  unborn, 

In  crowding  ranks  on  ev'ry  side  arise, 

Demanding  life,  impatient  for  the  skies !  90 

See  barbVous  nations  ^  at  thy  gates  attend. 

Walk  in  thy  light,  and  in  thy  temple  bend ; 

See  thy  bright  altars  throngM  with  prostrate  kings, 

And  heap'd  with  products  of  Sabaean*  springs! 

For  thee  Idume's  spicy  forests  blow,  95 

And  seeds  of  gold  in  Ophir's  mountains  glow. 

See  heav'n  its  sparkling  portals  wide  display. 

And  break  upon  thee  in  a  flood  of  day ! 

No  more  the  rising  Sun^  shall  gild  the  morn. 

Nor  ev'ning  Cynthia  fill  her  silver  horn  ;  loo 

But  lost,  dissolved  in  thy  superior  rays, 

One  tide  of  glory,  one  unclouded  blaze 

O'erflow  thy  courts  :  the  light  himself  shall  shine 

ReveaPd,  and  God's  eternal  day  be  thine ! 

The  seas  ^  shall  waste,  the  skies  in  smoke  decay,  105 

Rocks  fall  to  dust,  and  mountains  melt  away ; 

But  fix'd  his  word,  his  saving  pow'r  remains  ;  — 

Thy  realm  for  ever  lasts,  thy  own  Messiah  reigns ! 

*  ch.  Ix.  I.  8  ch.  Ix.  3.  fi  ch.  Ix.  19,  20. 

*  ch.  Ix.  4.  ^  ch.  Ix.  6.  ^  ch.  li.  6;  liv.  xo. 


IMITATIONS. 


Ver.  8.      A   virgin  shall   conceive  —  All  *  Unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given; 

crimes  shall  cease,  elc]  the  Prince  of  Peace:  of  the  increase  of  his  gov- 

Virg.  £.  iv.  6.  ernment,  and  of  his  peace,  there  shall  be  no 

'Jam  redit  et  Virgo,  redeunt  Saturnia  regna;  end:  Upon  the  throne  of  David,  and  upon  his 

Jam  nova  progenies  caelo  demittitur  alto.  kingdom,  to  order  and  to  establish  it,  with  judg- 

Te  duce,  si  qua  manent  sceleris  vestigia  nostri,  ment,  and  with  justice,  for  ever  and  ever.'    P. 
Irritaperpetua  solvent  formidine  terras-  Ver.  23.     See  I^Tature  hastes,  etc.] 

Pacatumque  reget  patnis  virtutibus  orbem.  Vire  £  iv   18 

*  Now  the  virgin  returns,  now  the  kingdom  of  *  At  tibi  prima,  puer,  nullo  munuscula  cultu, 
Saturn  returns,  now  a  new  progeny  is  sent  down  Errantes  hederas  passim  cum  baccare  tellus, 
from  high  heaven.     By  means  of  thee,  whatever  Mixtaque  ridenti  colocasia  fundet  acantho  — 
reliques  of  our  crimes  remain,  shall  be  wiped  Ipsa  tibi  blandos  fundent  cunabula  flores.' 
away,  and  free  the  world  from  perpetual  fears.  '  For  thee,  O  child,  shall  the  earth,  without 
He  shall  govern  the  earth  in  peace,  with  the  being  tilled,  produce  her  early  offerings;  wind- 
virtues  of  his  father.'  ing  ivy,  mixed  with  Baccar,  and  Colocasia  with 

Isaiah,  ch.  vii.  14.  —  *  Behold  a  virgin  shall  smiling  Acanthus.     Thy  cradle  shall  pour  forth 

conceive  and  bear  a  son.'    Ch.  ix.  v.  6,  7.  —  pleasing  flowers  about  thee.' 


28 


PASTORALS. 


Isaiah,  ch.  xxxv.  i.  — *The  wilderness  and 
the  solitary  place  shall  be  glad,  and  the  desart 
shall  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose.'  Ch.  Ix. 
13.  —  *  The  glory  of  Lebanon  shall  come  unto 
thee,  the  fir-tree,  the  pine-tree,  and  the  box 
together,  to  beautify  the  place  of  thy  sanctu- 
ary.'    P. 

Ver.  29.    Hark  !  a  glad  voicCy  etc.] 

Virg.  E.  iv.  v.  46. 
*  Aggredere    o    magnos,    aderit    jam    tempus, 

honores, 
Cara  deum  soboles,  magnum  Jovis  incremen- 

tum  — 
Ipsi  laetitia  voces  ad  sydera  jactant 
Intonsi  montes,  ipsae  jam  carmina  rupes,. 
Ipsa  sonant  arbusta,  Deus,  deus  ille  Menalca!  * 
£.  V.  V.  62. 

'  Oh  come  and  receive  the  mighty  honours : 
the  time  draws  nigh,  O  beloved  offspring  of  the 
gods,  O  great  encrease  of  Jove!  The  unculti- 
vated mountains  send  shouts  of  joy  to  the  stars, 
the  very  rocks  sing  in  verse,  the  very  shrubs  cry 
out,  A  god,  a  god ! ' 

Isaiah,  ch.  xl.  3,  4.  —  *  The  voice  of  him  that 
crieth  in  the  wilderness,  Prepare  ye  the  way  of 
the  Lord !  make  strait  in  the  desart  a  high  way 
for  our  God !  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and 
every  mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made  low,  and 
the  crooked  shall  be  made  strait,  and  the  rough 
places  plain.'  Ch.  xliv.  23.  —  *  Break  forth  into 
singing,  ye  mountains !  O  forest,  and  every  tree 
therein!  for  the  Lord  hath  redeemed  Israel.'    ?• 

Ver.  67,  TAe  swain  in  barren  deserts^ 
etc.] 

Virg.  E.  iv.  v.  28. 

*  Molli  paulatim  flavescet  campus  arista, 
Incultisque  rubens  pendebit  sentibus  uva, 
Et  durse  quercus  sudabunt  roscida  mella.' 

*  The  fields  shall  grow  yellow  with  ripen'd 
cars,  and  the  red  grape  shall  hang  upon  the  wild 


brambles,  and  the  hard  oaks  shall  distill  honey 
like  dew.* 

Isaiah,  ch.  xxxv.  7.  —  *  The  parched  ground 
shall  become  a  pool,  and  the  thirsty  land  springs 
of  water:  In  the  habitations  where  dragons  lay, 
shall  be  grass,  and  reeds,  and  rushes.'  Ch.  Iv. 
13.  — '  Instead  of  the  thorn  shall  come  up  the 
fir-tree,  and  instead  of  the  briar  shall  come  up 
the  myrtle-tree.'     P. 

Ver.  77.     TAe  lambs  with  wolves,  etc.] 

Virg.  E.  iv.  v.  21. 
*  Ipsae  lacte  domum  referent  distenta  capellae 
Ubera,  nee  magnos  metuent  armenta  leones  — 
Occidet  et  serpens,  et  fallax  herba  veneni 
Occidet.'  — 

*  The  goats  shall  bear  to  the  fold  their  udders 
distended  with  milk ;  nor  shall  the  herds  be  afraid 
of  the  greatest  lions.  The  serpent  shall  die,  and 
the  herb  that  conceals  poison  shall  die.' 

Isaiah,  ch.  xi.  6,  etc.  —  *  The  wolf  shall 
dwell  with  the  lamb,  and  the  leopard  shall  lie 
down  with  the  kid,  and  the  calf  and  the  young 
lion  and  the  fatling  together:  and  a  little  child 
shall  lead  them.  —  And  the  lion  shall  eat  straw 
like  the  ox.  And  the  sucking  child  shall  play  on 
the  hole  of  the  asp,  and  the  weaned  child  shall 
put  his  hand  on  the  den  of  the  cockatrice.'    P. 

Ver.  85.  Rise,  crowned  with  light,  imperial 
Salem.,  rise!]  The  thoughts  of  Isaiah,  which 
compose  the  latter  part  of  the  poem,  are  wonder- 
fully elevated,  and  much  above  those  general 
exclamations  of  Virgil,  which  make  the  loftiest 
parts  of  his  Pollio. 
'  Magnus  ab  integro  saeclorum  nascitur  ordo! 

—  toto  surget  gens  aurea  mundo ! 

—  incipient  magni  procedere  menses ! 
Aspice,  venturo  laetentur  ut  omnia  saeclo !  '  etc. 

The  reader  needs  only  to  turn  to  the  passages 
of  Isaiah,  here  cited.  P.  [Cited  at  bottom  of 
text.] 


o5^a 


WINDSOR  FOREST. 


To  the  Right  Honourable   George,  Lord  Lansdown.* 

Non  injussa  cano:  Te  nostrae,  Vare,  myricae, 

Te  Nemns  omne  canet;  nee  Phcebo  gratior  uUa  est 

Quam  sibi  quae  Vari  praescripsit  pagina  nomen.     ViRG.     \^Ecl.  vi.  10-12.] 

[The  design  of  this  poem  is  universally  allowed  to  have  been  derived  from  Denham's 
Cooper's  Hill,  the  first  specimen  in  English  literature  of  what  Johnson  denominates 
•  local  poetry.'    As  a  descriptive  poem,  Windsor  Forest  has  the  merits  both  of  dignity 

1  [See  note  to  p,  12.] 


WINDSOR  FOREST.  29 

and  of  variety ;  though  the  sense  of  the  picturesque  is  a  discovery  which  had  dawned 
neither  upon  the  age  nor  upon  the  individual  genius  of  Pope.  Perhaps  the  most 
ambitious  passage,  in  which  the  river  Thames  is  introduced  and  personified,  is  only  a 
weak  imitation  of  greater  models.  As  proceeding  from  an  inhabitant  of  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  Windsor  Castle,  the  treatment  of  the  historical  associations  connected 
with  it  is  remarkably  loose  and  incomplete.  Otway's  Windsor  Castle,  though  in  execu- 
tion infinitely  inferior  to  Pope's,  is  superior  to  the  latter  in  the  unity  of  its  conception, 
which  is  that  of  a  threnody  on  the  recent  death  of  Charles  II.,  naturally  suggested  by 
the  royal  abode.] 

This  poem  was  written  at  two  different  times  :  the  first  part  of  it,  which  relates  to  the 
country,  in  the  year  1704,  at  the  same  time  with  the  Pastorals :  the  latter  part  was  not 
added  till  the  year  17 13,  in  which  it  was  published.    P.     [The  division  is  at  line  289.] 

THY  forests,  Windsor!  and  thy  green  retreats, 
At  once  the  Monarch's  and  the  Muse's  seats, 
Invite  my  lays.     Be  present,  sylvan  maids! 
Unlock  your  springs,  and  open  all  your  shades. 
Granville  commands  ;  your  aid,  O  Muses,  bring!  5 

What  Muse  for  Granville  can  refuse  to  sing? 

The  Groves  of  Eden,  vanish'd  now  so  long,  "~~ 
Live  in  description,  and  look  green  in  song  : 
These,  v^'ere  my  breast  inspired  with  equal  flame, 
Like  them  in  beauty,  should  be  like  in  fame.  10 

Here  hills  and  vales,  the  woodland  and  the  plain, 
Here  earth  and  water  seem  to  strive  again ; 
Not  Chaos-like  together  crush'd  and  bruis'd, 
But,  as  the  world,  harmoniously  confus'd : 
Where  order  in  variety^we  see,"  ^  15 

And  where,  tho'  all  things  differ,  all  agree. 
Here  waving  groves  a  chequer'd  scene  display, 
And  part  admit,  and  part  exclude  the  day ; 
As  some  coy  nymph  her  lover's  warm  address 
Nor  quite  indulges,  nor  can  quite  repress.  20 

There,  interspersed  in  lawns  and  op'ning  glades, 
Thin  trees  arise  that  shun  each  other's  shades. 
Here  in  full  light  the  russet  plains  extend : 
There  wrapt  in  clouds  the  blueish  ^  hills  ascend. 
Ev'n  the  wild  heath  displays  her  purple  dyes,  25 

And  'midst  the  desert  fruitful  fields  arise, 
That  crown'd  with  tufted  trees  and  springing  corn, 
Like  verdant  isles  the  sable  waste  adorn. 
Let  India  boast  her  plants,  nor  envy  we 
The  weeping  amber  or  the  balmy  tree,  30 

While  by  our  oaks  the  precious  loads  are  born, 
And  realms  commanded  which  those  trees  adorn 
Not  proud  Olympus  "^  yields  a  nobler  sight, 

*  blueish.  [The  word  has  the  authority  of  '  Than  which  a  nobler  weight  no  mountain  bears, 
both  Shakspere  and  Dryden.]  But  Atlas  only,  which  supports  the  spheres.' 

*  Not  proud  Olympus  y  etc.]  Sir  J.  Denham,  The  comparison  is  childish,  for  the  story  of  Atlas 
in  his  Cooper's  Hill,  had  said»  being  fabulous,  leaves  no  room  for  a  compliment. 

Warburton. 


30  PASTORALS, 

Tho'  Gods  assembled  grace  his  tow'ring  height, 

Than  what  more  humble  mountains  offer  here,  35 

Where,  in  their  blessings,  all  those  Gods  appear. 

See  Pan  with  flocks,  with  fruits  Pomona  crown'd, 

Here  blushing  Flora  paints  th'  enamePd  ground,^ 

Here  Ceres'  gifts  in  waving  prospect  stand, 

And  nodding  tempt  the  joyful  reaper's  hand ;  40 

Rich  Industry  sits  smiling  on  the  plains. 

And  peace  and  plenty  tell,* a  Stuart  reigns. 

Not  thus  the  land  appear'd  in  ages  past, 
A  dreamy  desert,  and  a  gloomy  waste. 

To  savage  beasts  and  savage  laws  ^  a  prey,  45 

And  kings  more  furious  and  severe  than  they ; 
Who  claim'd  the  skies,  dispeopled  air  and  floods, 
The  lonely  lords  of  empty  wUds  and  woods : 
Cities  laid  waste,  they  storm'd  the  dens  and  caves, 
(For  wiser  brutes  were  backward  to  be  slaves  :)  50 

What  could  be  free,  when  lawless  beasts  obey'd, 
And  ev'n  the  elements  a  tyrant  sway'd? 
In  vain  kind  seasons  swell'd  the  teeming  grain, 
Soft  show'rs  distiird,  and  suns  grew  warm  in  vain ; 
The  swain  with  tears  his  fustrate  labour  yields,  55 

And  famish'd  dies  amidst  his  ripen'd  fields. 
What  wonder  then,  a  beast  or  subject  slain 
Were  equal  crimes  in  a  despotic  reign? 
Both  doom'd  alike,  for  sportive  Tyrants  bled, 
But  while  the  subject  starv'd,  the  beast  was  fed.  60 

Proud  Nimrod  first  the  bloody  chase  began, 
A  mighty  hunter,  and  his  prey  was  man : 
Our  haughty  Norman  boasts  that  barb'rous  name, 
And  makes  his  trembling  slaves  the  royal  game. 
The  fields  are  ravish'd  ^  from  th'  industrious  swains,  65 

From  men  their  cities,  and  from  Gods  their  fanes : 
The  levelPd  towns  with  weeds  lie  covered  o'er ; 
The  hollow  winds  thro'  naked  temples  roar ; 
Round  broken  columns  clasping  ivy  twin'd ; 
O'er  heaps  of  ruin  stalk'd  the  stately  hind ;  70 

The  fox  obscene  to  gaping  tombs  retires. 
And  savage  bowlings  fill  the  sacred  quires. 
Aw'd  by  his  Nobles,  by  his  Commons  curst, 
Th'  Oppressor  rul'd  tyrannic  where  he  durst, 
Stretch'd  o'er  the  Poor  and  Church  his  iron  rod,  75 

And  serv'd  alike  his  Vassals  and  his  God. 

1  [A  tautology.]  ^  The  fields  are  ravish' d,  etc.]     Alluding  to 

*  [The  Forest  Laws.    *  Amabat  rex,'  says  the  the  destruction  made  in  the  New  Forest,  and  the 

Saxon  chronicle  quoted  by  Thierry,  *  ferus  feras  tyrannies   exercised   there   by   William   I.     P. 

tanquam  esset  pater  earum.']  [Warton  and  Bowles  have  sufficiently  pointed 

[The    allusion,    after   a   compliment  to   the  out  the  exaggerated   character  of  this  descrip- 

Stuarts,  to   laws  which  a  Stuart  attempted   in  tion.] 

part  to  revive,  is  unintentionally  infelicitous.] 


WINDSOR  FOREST,  31 

Whom  ev'n  the  Saxon  spar'd  the  bloody  Dane, 

The  wanton  victims  of  his  sport  remain. 

But  see,  the  man  who  spacious  regions  gave 

A  waste  for  beasts,  himself  deny'd  a  grave !  ^  80 

Stretched  on  the  lawn  his  second  hope  ^  survey, 

At  once  the  chaser,  and  at  once  the  prey : 

Lo  Rufus,  tugging  at  the  deadly  dart, 

Bleeds  in  the  Poorest  ^  like  a  wounded  hart. 

Succeeding  monarchs  heard  the  subjects'  cries,  85 

Nor  saw  displeas'd  the  peaceful  cottage  rise. 

Then  gathering  flocks  on  unknown  mountains  fed, 

O'er  sandy  wilds  were  yellow  harvests  spread, 

The  forests  wonder'd  at  th'  unusual  grain, 

And  secret  transport  touch'd  the  conscious  swain.  90 

Fair  Liberty,  Britannia's  Goddess,  rears 

Her  cheerful  head,  and  leads  the  golden  years. 

Ye  vig'rous  swains !  while  youth  ferments  your  blood,    ^^ 
And  purer  spirits  swell  the  sprightly  flood, 
Now  range  the  hills,  the  gameful  woods  beset,  95 

Wind  the  shrill  horn,  or  spread  the  waving  net. 
When  milder  autumn  summer's  heat  succeeds. 
And  in  the  new-shorn  field  the  partridge  feeds, 
Before  his  lord  the  ready  spaniel  bounds. 

Panting  with  hope,  he  tries  the  furrow'd  grounds ;  lOO 

But  when  the  tainted  gales  the  game  betray, 
Couch'd  close  he  lies,  and  meditates  the  prey : 
Secure  they  trust  th'  unfaithful  field  beset, 
'Till  hov'ring  o'er  'em  sweeps  the  swelling  net. 
Thus  (if  small  things  we  may  with  great  compare)  105 

When  Albion  sends  her  eager  sons  to  war, 
Some  thoughtless  Town,  with  ease  and  plenty  blest, 
Near,  and  more  near,  the  closing  Hues  invest ; 
Sudden  they  seize  th'  amaz'd,  defenceless  prize, 
And  high  in  air  Britannia's  standard  flies."*  1 10 

See!  from  the  brake  the  whirring  pheasant  springs, 
And  mounts  exulting  on  triumphant  wings : 
Short  is  his  joy ;  he  feels  the  fiery  wound, 
Flutters  in  blood,  and  panting  beats  the  ground. 
Ah!  what  avail  his  glossy,  varying  dyes,  y  '  1 15 

His  purple  crest,  and  scarlet-circled  eyes, 

1  himself  deny'  d  a  grave  /]     The  place  of         2  [Richard  duke  of  Bemay,  said  to  have  been 

his  interment  at  Caen  in  Normandy  was  claimed  killed  by  a  stag  in  the  New  Forest.] 
by  a  gentleman  as  his  inheritance,  the  moment         ^  The  oak  under  which  Rufus  was  shot  was 

his  servants  were  going  to  put  him  in  his  tomb :  standing  till    within    a   few    years.      Bowles. 

so  that  they  were  obliged  to  compound  with  the  (1806.) 

owner  before  they  could  perform  the  king's  ob-         *  [The  allusion  may  be  to  the  capture  of  Gib- 

sequies.     Warbtirton.  raltar,  easily  effected  by  Rooke  with  his  sailors 

[The  gentleman's  name  was  Asselin;  and  the  and  marines  in  the  year  (1704)  in  which  the  e:.r- 

story,  with  additional  details,  is  told  from  Orde-  Her  part  of  this  poem  was  written.] 
ricus  Vitalis  by  Thierry.] 


32  PASTORALS, 

The  vivid  green  his  shining  plumes  unfold, 

His  painted  wings,  and  breast  that  flames  with  gold? 

Nor  yet,  when  moist  Arcturus  clouds  the  sky, 
The  woods  and  fields  their  pleasing  toils  deny.  I2o 

To  plains  with  well-breath'd  ^  beagles  we  repair, 
And  trace  the  mazes  of  the  circling  hare : 
(Beasts,  urgM  by  us,  their  fellow-beasts  pursue, 
And  learn  of  man  each  other  to  undo). 

With  slaughtering  guns  th'  unwearied  fowler  roves,  125 

When  frosts  have  whitenM  all  the  naked  groves ; 
Where  doves  in  flocks  the  leafless  trees  o^ershade, 
And  lonely  woodcocks  haunt  the  watVy  glade. 
He  lifts  the  tube,  and  levels  with  his  eye ; 

Straight  a  short  thunder  breaks  the  frozen  sky :  I30 

Oft,  as  in  airy  rings  they  skim  the  heath, 
The  clam'rous  lapwings  feel  the  leaden  death : 
Oft,  as  the  mounting  larks  their  notes  prepare, 
y     They  fall,  and  leave  their  little  lives  in  air. 

In  genial  spring,  beneath  the  quivering  shade,  135 

Where  cooling  vapours  breathe  along  the  mead, 
The  patient  fisher  takes  his  silent  stand, 
Intent,  his  angle  trembling  in  his  hand : 
With  looks  unmov'd,  he  hopes  the  scaly  breed, 
And  eyes  the  dancing  cork,  and  bending  reed.  140 

Our  plenteous  streams  a  various  race  supply, 
The  bright-ey'd  perch  with  fins  of  Tyrian  dye. 
The  silver  eel,  in  shining  volumes  rolPd, 
The  yellow  carp,  in  scales  bedropp'd  with  gold. 
Swift  trouts,  diversified  with  crimson  stains,  145 

And  pikes,  the  tyrants  of  the  wat'ry  plains. 

Now  Cancer  glows  with  Phoebus'  fiery  car : 
The  youth  rush  eager  to  the  sylvan  war, 
Swarm  o'er  the  lawns,  the  forest  walks  surround, 
Rouse  the  fleet  hart,  and  cheer  the  opening  hound.  150 

Th'  impatient  courser  pants  in  every  vein. 
And,  pawing,  seems  to  beat  the  distant  plain : 
Hills,  vales,  and  floods  appear  already  cross'd, 
And  ere  he  starts,  a  thousand  steps  are  lost. 
See  the  bold  youth  strain  up  the  threat'ning  steep,  155 

Rush  thro'  the  thickets,  down  the  valleys  sweep, 
Hang  o'er  their  coursers'  heads  with  eager  speed. 
And  earth  rolls  back  beneath  the  flying  steed. 
Let  old  Arcadia  boast  her  ample  plain, 

Th'  immortal  huntress,  and  her  virgin  train ;  160 

Nor  envy,  Windsor!  since  thy  shades  have  seen 
As  bright  a  Goddess,  and  as  chaste  a  Queen ;  =2 

*  [i.e.  well-exercised,  cf.   *  breathed   stags.'  Windsor  has  an  inscription  conveying  the  same 

Shaksp.  Taming  of  the  Shrew  ^  Intr.]  measured  compliment: 

2  Queen  Anne.  A nnce  vis  similem  sculpere  ?  Sculpe  Dearn.'] 

[A  statue  of  this  sovereign  still  standing  at 


WINDSOR  FOREST.  33 

Whose  care,  like  hers,  protects  the  sylvan  reign, 
The  Earth's  fair  light,  and  Empress  of  the  main. 

Here  too,  't  is  sung,  of  old  Diana  stray'd,  165 

And  Cynthus'  top  forsook  for  Windsor  shade  : 
Here  was  she  seen  o'er  airy  wastes  to  rove. 
Seek  the  clear  spring,  or  haunt  the  pathless  grove ; 
Here  arm'd  with  silver  bows,  in  early  dawn, 
Her  buskin'd  Virgins  trac'd  the  dewy  lawn.  170 

Above  the  rest  a  rural  nymph  was  fam'd. 
Thy  offspring,  Thames !  the  fair  Lodona  nam'd ; 
(Lodona's  fate,  in  long  oblivion  cast. 
The  Muse  shall  sing,  and  what  she  sings  shall  last). 
Scarce  could  the  Goddess  from  her  nymph  be  known,  175 

But  by  the  crescent  and  the  golden  zone. 
She  scorn'd  the  praise  of  beauty,  and  the  care ; 
A  belt  her  waist,  a  fillet  binds  her  hair ; 
A  painted  quiver  on  her  shoulder  sounds. 
And  with  her  dart  the  flying  deer  she  wounds.  180 

It  chanc'd,  as  eager  of  the  chase,  the  maid 
Beyond  the  forest's  verdant  limits  stray'd. 
Pan  saw  and  lov'd,  and,  burning  with  desire. 
Pursued  her  flight ;  her  flight  increas'd  his  fire. 
Not  half  so  swift  the  trembling  doves  can  fly,  185 

When  the  fierce  eagle  cleaves  the  liquid  sky ; 
Not  half  so  swiftly  the  fierce  eagle  moves. 
When  thro'  the  clouds  he  drives  the  trembling  doves ; 
As  from  the  god  she  flew  with  furious  pace, 
Or  as  the  god,  more  furious,  urg'd  the  chase.  190 

Now  fainting,  sinking,  pale,  the  nymph  appears ; 
Now  close  behind,  his  sounding  steps  she  hears ; 
And  now  his  shadow  reach'd  her  as  she  run. 
His  shadow  lengthen'd  by  the  setting  sun ; 
And  now  his  shorter  breath,  with  sultry  air,  195 

Pants  on  her  neck,  and  fans  her  parting  hair. 
In  vain  on  father  Thames  she  calls  for  aid, 
Nor  could  Diana  help  her  injur'd  maid. 
Faint,  breathless,  thus  she  pray'd,  nor  pray'd  in  vain  ; 
"Ah,  Cynthia!  ah  —  tho'  banish'd  from  thy  train,  200 

Let  me,  O  let  me,  to  the  shades  repair. 
My  native  shades  —  there  weep,  and  murmur  there." 
She  said,  and  melting  as  in  tears  she  lay. 
In  a  soft,  silver  stream  dissolv'd  away. 

The  silver  stream  her  virgin  coldness  keeps,  205 

For  ever  murmurs,  and  for  ever  weeps ; 
Still  bears  the  name  ^  the  hapless  virgin  bore, 
And  bathes  the  forest  where  she  rang'd  before. 
In  her  chaste  current  oft  the  goddess  laves. 
And  with  celestial  tears  augments  the  waves.  210 

1  Still  bears  the  name'\     The  river  Loddon.     Warburton. 
D 


34  PASTORALS, 

Oft  in  her  glass  ^  the  musing  shepherd  spies 

The  headlong  mountains  and  the  downward  skies, 

The  wat'ry  landscape  of  the  pendant  woods, 

And  absent  trees  that  tremble  in  the  floods ; 

In  the  clear  azure  gleam  the  flocks  are  seen,  215 

And  floating  forests  paint  the  waves  with  green, 

Thro"*  the  fair  scene  roll  slow  the  lingering  streams, 

Then  foaming  pour  along,  and  rush  into  the  Thames. 

Thou,  too,  great  father  of  the  British  floods! 
^    With  joyful  pride  survey'st  our  lofty  woods  ;  220 

Where  tow'ring  oaks  their  growing  honours  rear, 
And  future  navies  on  thy  shores  appear. 
Not  Neptune's  self  from  all  her  streams  receives 
A  wealthier  tribute  than  to  thine  he  gives. 
No  seas  so  rich,  so  gay  no  banks  appear,  225 

No  lake  so  gentle,  and  no  spring  so  clear. 
Nor  Po  so  swells  the  fabling  Poet's  lays. 
While  led  along  the  skies  his  current  strays, 
As  thine,  which  visits  Windsor's  fam'd  abodes, 
To  grace  the  mansion  of  our  earthly  Gods  :  230 

Nor  all  his  stars  above  a  lustre  show. 
Like  the  bright  Beauties  on  tliy  banks  below, 
Where  Jove,  subdued  by  mortal  Passion  still, 
Might  change  Olympus  for  a  nobler  hill. 

Happy  the  man  whom  this  bright  court  approves,  235 

His  Sov'reign  favours,  and  his  Country  loves : 
Happy  next  him,  who  to  these  shades  retires, 
Whom  Nature  charms,  and  whom  the  Muse  inspires : 
Whom  humbler  joys  of  home-felt  quiet  please, 
Successive  study,  exercise,  and  ease.  240 

He  gathers  health  from  herbs  the  forest  yields, 
^   And  of  their  fragrant  physic  spoils  the  fields  : 
With  chymic  art  exalts  the  min'ral  pow'rs, 
And  draws  the  aromatic  souls  of  flow'rs  : 

Now  marks  the  course  of  rolling  orbs  on  high  ;  245 

O'er  figur'd  worlds  now  travels  with  his  eye  ; 
Of  ancient  writ  unlocks  the  learned  store, 
Consults  the  dead,  and  lives  past  ages  o'er : 
Or  wand'ring  thoughtful  in  the  silent  wood, 
Attends  the  duties  of  the  wise  and  good,  250 

T'  observe  a  mean,  be  to  himself  a  friend, 
Xo-iollaw  nature,  and  regard  his  end; 
Or  looks  on  heav'n  with  more  than  mortal  eyes, 
Bids  his  free  soul  expatiate  in  the  skies, 

Amid  her  kindred  stars  familiar  roam,  255 

Survey  the  region,  and  confess  her  home ! 
Such  was  the  life  great  Scipio  once  admir'd :  - 


1  0/it  in  her  glass y  etc.]   These  six  lines  were  added  after  the  first  writing  of  this  poem.    P. 


WINDSOR  FOREST.  35 

Thus  Atticus,  and  Trumbal  thus  retir'ch* 

Ye  sacred  Nine !  that  all  my  soul  possess, 
Whose  raptures  fire  me,  and  whose  visions  bless,  260 

Bear  me,  O  bear  me  to  sequestered  scenes, 
The  bow'ry  mazes,  and  surrounding  greens  : 
To  Thames's  banks,  which  fragrant  breezes  fill, 
Or  where  ye  Muses  sport  on  Cooper's  Hill. 
(On  Cooper's  Hill  eternal  wreaths  shall  grow,  265 

While  lasts  the  mountain,  or  while  Thames  shall  flow.) 
I  seem  thro'  consecrated  walks  to  rove, 
I  hear  soft  music  die  along  the  grove. 
Led  by  the  sound,  I  roam  from  shade  to  shade, 
By  god-like  Poets  venerable  made  :  270 

Here  his  first  lays  majestic  Denham  sung ;  ^ 
There  the  last  numbers  flow'd  from  Cowley's  tongue.' 
Oh  early  lost !  what  tears  the  river  shed. 
When  the  sad  pomp  along  his  banks  was  led  ? 
His  drooping  swans  on  every  note  expire,  275 

And  on  his  willows  hung  each  muse's  lyre. 

Since  fate  relentless  stopp'd  their  heavenly  voice, 
No  more  the  forests  ring,  or  groves  rejoice ; 
Who  now  shall  charm  the  shades  where  Cowley  strung 
His  living  harp,  and  lofty  Denham  sung?  280 

But  hark!  the  groves  rejoice,  the  forest  rings! 
Are  these  reviv'd?  or  is  it  Granville  sings  ?^ 
'T  is  yours,  my  Lord,  to  bless  our  soft  retreats, 
And  call  the  Muses  to  their  ancient  seats ; 
To  paint  anew  the  flow'ry  sylvan  scenes,  285 

To  crown  the  forests  with  immortal  greens. 
Make  Windsor-hills  in  lofty  numbers  rise, 
And  lift  her  turrets  nearer  to  the  skies ; 
To  sing  those  honours  you  deserve  to  wear, 
And  add  new  lustre  to  her  silver  star!  ^  290 

Here  noble  Surrey  felt  the  sacred  rage, 
Surrey,  the  Granville  of  a  former  age : 
Matchless  his  pen,  victorious  was  his  lance. 
Bold  in  the  lists,  and  graceful  in  the  dance : 
In  the  same  shades  the  Cupids  tun'd  his  lyre,^  295 

*  [The  parallel  between  Scipio  and  Sir  Wil-    What  immediately  followed  this,  and  made  the 
Ham  Trumball  is  complete;  for  the  retirement  of    conclusion,  were  these, 

neither  was  voluntary.]  My  humble  muse  in  unambitious  strains,  &c.  P. 

2  [Sir  John  Denham  was  born  in  1615  and  died         •  Here  noble  Surrey"]  Henry  Howard,  Earl 

in  1688;  and  was  buried  by  the  side  of  Cowley.]  of  Surrey,  one  of  the  first  refiners  of  the  English 

'  There  the  last  iininbers  flow'd  from  Cow-  poetry;  who  flourished  in  the   time  of  Henry 

ley's  to7tgue.\     Mr.  Cowley  died  at  Chertsey,  on  VHI.     P. 

the  borders  of  the  Forest,  and  was  from  thence  [Bom  in  1517;  died  1547.    In  the  famous  son- 
conveyed  to  Westminster.     P.  net  in  *  Description  and  Praise  of  his  love  Geral- 

[Born  1618,  died  1667.]  dine'  he  sings  that  *  Windsor,  alas!  doth  chase 

*  [See  note  to  p.  2.]  me  from  her  sight.*  All  the  conjectures  concern- 
^  Her  silver  star!]  All  the  lines  that  follow  ing  the  lady  are  based  upon  this  sonnet.] 

were  not  added  to  the  poem  till  the  year  17 10. 


^ 


36  PASTORALS. 

To  the  salne  notes,  of  love,  and  soft  desire : 
Fair  Geraldine,  bright  object  of  his  vow, 
Then  filPd  the  groves,  as  heav'nly  Mira  now.^ 

Oh  wouldst  thou  sing  what  heroes  Windsor  bore, 
What  Kings  first  breathed  upon  her  winding  shore,  300 

Or  raise  old  warriors,  whose  adored  remains 
In  weeping  vaults  her  hallowed  earth  contains! 
With  Edward's  acts  "^  adorn  the  shining  page. 
Stretch  his  long  triumphs  down  through  every  age, 
Draw  monarchs  chained,  and  Cressi's  glorious  field,  305 

The  lilies  blazing  on  the  regal  shield  : 
Then,  from  her  roofs  when  Verrio's  colours  fall. 
And  leave  inanimate  the  naked  wall ;  ^ 
Still  in  thy  song  should  vanquished  France  appear. 
And  bleed  for  ever  under  Britain's  spear.  310 

Let  softer  strains  ill-fated  Henry  mourn,* 
And  palms  eternal  flourish  round  his  urn. 
Here  o'er  the  martyr-king  the  marble  weeps, 
And,  fast  beside  him,  once-fear'd  Edward  sleeps  :  ^ 
Whom  not  th'  extended  Albion  could  contain,  315 

From  old  Belerium  ^  to  the  northern  main, 
The  grave  unites  ;  where  e'en  the  great  find  rest, 
And  blended  lie  th'  oppressor  and  th'  opprest! 

Make  sacred  Charles's  tomb  for  ever  known  "^ 
(Obscure  the  place,  and  uninscrib'd  the  stone),  320 

Oh  fact  accurst!  what  tears  has  Albion  shed, 
Heav'ns,  what  new  wounds!  and  how  her  old  have  bled! 
She  saw  her  sons  with  purple  deaths  expire. 
Her  sacred  domes  involv'd  in  rolling  fire, 
A  dreadful  series  of  intestine  wars,  325 

Inglorious  triumphs  and  dishonest  scars. 
^At  length  great  Anna  said,  "Let  Discord  cease!" 
^  She  said!  the  world  obey'd,  and  all  was  Peace! 

In  that  blest  moment  from  his  oozy  bed 
Old  father  Thames  advanc'd  his  reverend  head.  330 

His  tresses  dropp'd  with  dews,  and  o'er  the  stream 

1  The  Mira  of  Granville  was  the  countess  of    verely  criticised  by  Horace  Walpole.  See  Bowles 
Newburgh.     Towards  the  end  of  her  life  Dr.     adloc.    They  were  painted  temp.  Carol.  II.] 
King,  of    Oxford,  wrote   a  very  severe  satire  *  Henry  mourn']  Henry  VI.     P. 

against   her,   in  three  books,  4to,  called  'Tke         ^  once -fear' d    Edward    sleeps:]    Edward 

Toast:     War  ton.  IV.     P. 

2  Edward's  acts]    Edward  III.  born   here.  [Both  are  buried  in  St.  George's  chapel.] 
P,                                                                                         6  Belerium.     [The  Land's  End.] 

[In  the  year  1312.  It  was  in  1340  that  he  '  [Thegraveof  Charles  I.,  of  which,  owing  to 
first  quartered  the  arms  of  France  with  his  own.]  the  confusion  which  had  attended  his  interment, 
I  have  sometimes  wondered  that  Pope  did  not  the  locality  was  unknown  at  the  Restoration, 
mention  the  building  of  Windsor  Castle  by  though  one  of  the  witnesses,  Mr.  Herbert,  de- 
Edward  III.  His  architect  was  William  of  clared  himself  certain  as  to  its  precise  situation, 
Wykeham.      Warton.  was  discovered  in  1813  in  the  locality  indicated. 

3  [Verrio's  ceilings,  enumerated  at  length  in  See  Sir  Henry  Halford's  account,  quoted  by 
Jesse's  Eton  and  Windsor ^   pp.  51,  2,  are  se-  Jesse,  w.*.] 


WINDSOR  FOREST.  37 

His  shining  horns  diffusM  a  golden  gleam : 

GravM  on  his  urn  appear^  the  moon,  that  guides 

His  swelling  waters  and  alternate  tides  ; 

The  figur'd  streams  in  waves  of  silver  rolPd,  335 

And  on  their  banks  Augusta  rose  in  gold. 

Around  his  throne  the  sea-born  brothers  stood, 

Who  swell  with  tributary  urns  his  flood ; 

First  the  fam'd  authors  of  his  ancient  name/ 

The  winding  Isis,  and  the  fruitful  Thame  :  340 

The  Kennet  swift,  for  silver  eels  renowned ; 

The  Loddon  slow,  with  verdant  alders  crown'd ; 

Cole,  whose  dark  streams  his  flowery  island  lave ; 

And  chalky  Wey,  that  rolls  a  milky  wave : 

The  blue,  transparent  Vandalis  appears  ;  345 

The  gulfy  Lee  his  sedgy  tresses  rears  ; 

And  sullen  Mole,  that  hides  his  diving  flood ;  ^ 

And  silent  Darent,  stainM  with  Danish  blood,^ 

High  in  the  midst,  upon  his  urn  reclin'd 
(His  sea-green  mantle  waving  with  the  wind),  350 

The  god  appeared  :  he  turn'd  his  azure  eyes 
Where  Windsor-domes  and  pompous  turrets  rise ; 
Then  bow'd  and  spoke ;  the  winds  forget  to  roar, 
And  the  hushM  waves  glide  softly  to  the  shore. 

Hail,  sacred  peace!  hail,  long-expected  days,*  355 

That  Thames's  glory  to  the  stars  shall  raise! 
Tho'  Tiber^s  streams  immortal  Rome  behold, 
Tho'  foaming  Hermus  swells  with  tides  of  gold, 
From  heav'n  itself  though  sevenfold  Nilus  flows, 
And  harvests  on  a  hundred  realms  bestows ;  360 

These  now  no  more  shall  be  the  Muse's  themes, 
Lost  in  my  fame,  as  in  the  sea  their  streams. 
Let  Volga's  banks  with  iron  squadrons  shine. 
And  groves  of  lances  glitter  on  the  Rhine, 
Let  barb'rous  Ganges  arm  a  servile  train ;  365 

Be  mine  the  blessings  of  a  peaceful  reign.         y^ 
No  more  my  sons  shall  dye  with  British  blood 
Red  Iber's  sands,  or  Ister's  foaming  flood : 
Safe  on  my  shore  each  unmolested  swain 

Shall  tend  the  flocks,  or  reap  the  bearded  grain ;  370 

The  shady  empire  shall  retain  no  trace 

*  He  has  copied,  and  equalled,  the  Rivers  of  have    repulsed    the    Saxon    invaders    on    the 

Spenser,  Drayton  and  Milton.     Warton.    [viz.  Darent.] 

in  the  Faerie  Queen^  bk.  iv.  canto  xi,  the  Poly-  *  [The  allusions   are  of  course   to   the  ex- 

olbiotiy  and  the  Vacation  exercise  anno  cetatis  pected   peace,  for  which  the  conferences  were 

xix.'\                                                            ■  opened   in   January   1711    at  Utrecht;    to   the 

2  The  Mole  sinks  through  its  sands,  in  dry  previous  campaigns  in  Spain  and  Germany;  to 
summers,  into  an  invisible  channel  under  ground  the  war  between  Peter  the  Great  and  Charles 
at  Mickleham,  near  Dorking,  Surrey.    Bowles.  XII.;  and  to  the  early  difficulties  of  our  East 

3  [Not  Danish,   but    Saxon.      The    Britons  India  settlements.] 
under  Vortimer  the  son  of  Vortigern  are  said  to 


38  PASTORALS. 

Of  war  or  blood,  but  in  the  sylvan  chase ; 

The  trumpet  sleep,  while  cheerful  horns  are  blown, 

And  arms  employed  on  birds  and  beasts  alone. 

Behold!  th^  ascending  Villas  on  my  side  375 

Project  long  shadows  o'er  the  crystal  tide. 

Behold!  Augusta's  glitt'ring  spires  increase, 

And  Temples  rise,^  the  beauteous  works  of  Peace. 

I  see,  I  see,  where  two  fair  cities  bend 

Their  ample  bow,  a  new  Whitehall  ascend!  2  380 

There  mighty  Nations  shall  inquire  their  doom, 

The  World's  great  Oracle  in  times  to  come ; 

There  Kings  shall  sue,  and  suppliant  States  be  seen 

Once  more  to  bend  before  a  BRITISH    QUEEN.. 

Thy  trees,  fair  Windsor!  now  shall  leave  their  woods,  385 

And  half  thy  forests  rush  into  thy  floods. 
Bear  Britain's  thunder,  and  her  Cross  display, 
To  the  bright  regions  of  the  rising  day ; 
'  Tempt  icy  seas,  where  scarce  the  waters  roll, 

Where  clearer  flames  glow  round  the  frozen  Pole :  390 

Or  under  southern  skies  exalt  their  sails. 

Led  by  new  stars,  and  borne  by  spicy  gales ! 

For  me  the  balm  shall  bleed,  and  amber  flow, 

The  coral  redden,  and  the  ruby  glow. 

The  pearly  shell  its  lucid  globe  infold,  395 

And  Phoebus  warm  the  ripening  ore  to  gold. 

The  time  shall  come,  when,  free  as  seas  or  wind. 

Unbounded  Thames  ^  shall  flow  for  all  mankind. 

Whole  nations  enter  with  each  swelling  tide. 

And  seas  but  join  the  regions  they  divide  ;  400 

Earth's  distant  ends  our  glory  shall  behold, 

And  the  new  world  launch  forth  to  seek  the  old. 

Then  ships  of  uncouth  form  shall  stem  the  tide. 

And  feather'd  people  crowd  my  wealthy  side, 

And  naked  youths  and  painted  chiefs  admire  405 

Our  speech,  our  colour,  and  our  strange  attire! 

O  stretch  thy  reign,  fair  Peace!  from  shore  to  shore. 

Till  Conquest  cease,  and  Slav'ry  be  no  more ; 

Till  the  freed  Indians  in  their  native  groves 

Reap  their  own  fruits,  and  woo  their  sable  loves,  410 

Peru  once  more  a  race  of  kings  behold. 

And  other  Mexico's  be  roof 'd  with  gold. 

Exil'd  by  thee  from  earth  to  deepest  hell, 

In  brazen  bonds  shall  barbarous  Discord  dwell ; 

Gigantic  Pride,  pale  Terror,  gloomy  Care,  415 

And  mad  Ambition,  shall  attend  her  there : 

There  purple  Vengeance  bath'd  in  gore  retires, 

^  And  temples  rise^  The  fifty  new  churches.         ^  [Designs  for  a  new  palace  of  Whitehall  had 
P.  been  commenced  by  Inigo  Jones.] 

3  Unbounded   Thames,   etc.]     A  wish  that  London  may  be  made  a  free  port.     P. 


IMITATIONS, 


39 


Her  weapons  blunted,  and  extinct  her  fires : 

There  hateful  Envy  her  own  snakes  shall  feel, 

And  Persecution  mourn  her  broken  wheel :  420 

There  Faction  roar,  Rebellion  bite  her  chain, 

And  gasping  Furies  thirst  for  blood  in  vain. 

Here  cease  thy  flight,  nor  with  unhallow'd  lays 
Touch  the  fair  fame  of  Albion's  golden  days  : 
The  thoughts  of  gods  let  Granville's  verse  recite,  425 

And  bring  the  scenes  of  op'ning  fate  to  light. 
My  humble  Muse,  in  unambitious  strains. 
Paints  the  green  forests  and  the  flow'ry  plains, 
Where  Peace  descending  bids  her  olives  spring, 
And  scatters  blessings  from  her  dovelike  wing.  430 

Ev'n  I  more  sweetly  pass  my  careless  days, 
Pleas'd  in  the  silent  shade  with  empty  praise ; 
Enough  for  me,  that  to  the  list'ning  swains 
First  in  these  fields  I  sung  the  sylvan  strains. 


IMITATIONS. 


Ver.  6.  *  neget  quis  carmina  Gallo  ? '  Virg. 
Warburton. 

Ver.  65.  The  fields  were  ravish'd  from  th' 
industrious  swains,  From  men  their  cities,  and 
from  Gods  their  fanes:] 

Translated  from, 

*  Templa  adimit  divis,  fora  civibus,  arva  colonis,' 
an  old  monkish  writer,  I  forget  who.     P. 

Ver.  89.  *  Miraturque  novas  frondes  et  non 
sua  poma.'     Virg,     Warburton. 

Ver.  134.  *  Praecipites  alta  vitam  sub  nube 
relinquunt.'     Virg.     Warburton. 

Ver.  151.  Th^  impatient  courser,  etc.] 
Translated  from  Statius, 

*  Stare  adeo  miserum  est,  pereunt  vestigia  mille 
Ante  fugam,   absentemque  ferit  gravis  ungula 

campum.' 
These  lines  Mr.  Dryden,  in  his  preface  to  his 
translation  of  Fresnoy's  Art  of  Painting,  calls 
•wonderfully fine  ^  and  says  they  would  cost  him 
an  hour,  if  he  had  the  leisure  to  translate 
them,  there  is  so  much  of  beauty  in  the  origi- 
nal;  which  was  the  reason,  I  suppose,  why 
Mr.  P.  tried  his  strength  with  them.  War- 
burton. 


Ver.  158.    and  earth  rolls  back]     He  has 
improved  his  original, 

*  terraeque  urbesque  recedunt.' 

Virg.     Warburton. 

Ver.  183,  186. 
*Ut  fugere  accipitrem  penna  trepidante  columbae, 
Ut  solet  accipiter  trepidas  agitare  columbas.' 

Ovid.     Warburton. 

Ver.  191,  194. 
*  Sol  erat  a  tergo:  vidi  praecedere  longam 
Ante  pedes  umbram:  nisi  si  timor  ilia  videbat. 
Sed  certe  sonituque  pedum  terrebar;  et  ingens 
Crinales  vittas  afflabat  anhelitus  oris.* 

Most  of  the  circumstances  in  this  tale  are 
taken  from  Ovid.     War  ton. 

Ver.   249,   50. 

Servare  modum  finemquc  tenere. 
Naturamque  sequi.'      Luc. 

Ver.  259.     *  O  qui  me  gelidis,  etc.* 

Virg.     Warburton, 
Ver.  421. 

*  Quo,  Musa,  tendis  ?  desine  pervicax 
Referre  sermones  Deorum  et 
Magna  modis  tenuare  parvis.' 

Hor.     Warburton. 


40  ODES, 


ODE   ON   ST.   CECILIA'S   DAY, 

MDCCVIII. 
AND   OTHER  PIECES   FOR  MUSIC. 


ODE   FOR  MUSIC   ON   ST.   CECILIA'S   DAY. 

[This  famous  Ode,  written  by  Pope  in  the  year  1708  at  Steele's  desire,  in  praise  of 
an  art  'of  the  principles  of  which  he  was  ignorant,  while  to  its  effects  he  was  insensible,' 
has  been  naturally  compared  by  successive  generations  of  critics  to  Dryden's  master- 
piece on  the  same  subject.  A  superiority  which  few  will  be  disposed  to  deny  has  been 
generally  claimed  for  Alexanders  Feast ;  but  it  may  be  questioned  whether  in  this 
class  of  poetry  either  the  choice  of  historical  instead  of  mythological  illustrations,  or 
the  unity  of  the  action  represented,  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  absolute  merit.  A  more 
tenable  objection  to  Pope's  Ode  is  the  circumstance  that  in  his  endeavour  to  vary 
expressively  the  versification,  he  has  in  Stanza  IV.  and  in  the  second  part  of  Stanza  V. 
permitted  himself  the  use  of  metres  which  mar  the  dignity  of  the  poem. 

This  Ode  was  set  to  music  as  an  exercise  for  his  degree  of  doct.  mus.  by  Maurice 
Greene,  and  performed  at  the  Public  Commencement  at  Cambridge,  on  July  6th,  1730. 
The  text  of  the  Ode  as  sung  on  this  occasion  contains  in  the  first  four  stanzas  many 
variations  introduced  by  Pope ;  and  the  following  stanza  is  inserted  as  the  third  of  the 
Ode: 

Amphion  thus  bade  wild  dissension  cease, 
And  softened  mortals  learn'd  the  Arts  of  Peace  — 
Amphion  taught  contending  Kings 
From  various  discords  to  create 
The  Musick  of  a  well  tun'd  State, 
Nor  slack  nor  strain  the  tender  Strings ; 
Those  useful  touches  to  impart 
That  strike  the  Subject's  answ'ring  heart ; 
And  the  soft  silent  Harmony  that  springs 
From  sacred  union  and  consent  of  Things.] 


DESCEND,  ye  Nine!  descend  and  sing; 
The  breathing  instruments  inspire, 
Wake  into  voice  each  silent  string, 
And  sweep  the  sounding  lyre! 
In  a  sadly-pleasing  strain 
Let  the  warbling  lute  complain : 
Let  the  loud  trumpet  sound, 
Till  the  roofs  all  around 
The  shrill  echoes  rebound : 
While  in  more  lengthened  notes  and  slow, 
The  deep,  majestic,  solemn  organs  blow. 
Hark !  the  numbers  soft  and  clear. 
Gently  steal  upon  the  ear ; 


ODES,  41 

Now  louder,  and  yet  louder  rise 

And  fill  with  spreading  sounds  the  skies ;  15 

Exulting  in  triumph  now  swell  the  bold  notes, 
In  broken  air,  trembling,  the  wild  music  floats ; 
Till,  by  degrees,  remote  and  small, 

The  strains  decay,  -^ 

And  melt  away,  20 

In  a  dying,  dying  fall. 

II. 

By  Music,  minds  an  equal  temper  know, 

Nor  swell  too  high,  nor  sink  too  low. 
If  in  the  breast  tumultuous  joys  arise, 
Music  her  soft,  assuasive  voice  applies ;  25 

Or  when  the  soul  is  pressed  with  cares. 

Exalts  her  in  enlivening  airs. 
Warriors  she  fires  with  animated  sounds ; 
Pours  balm  into  the  bleeding  lover's  wounds : 

Melancholy  lifts  her  head,  30 

Morpheus  rouses  from  his  bed. 

Sloth  unfolds  her  arms  and  wakes, 

Lisf  ning  Envy  drops  her  snakes  ; 
Intestine  war  no  more  our  Passions  wage. 
And  giddy  Factions  hear  away  their  rage.  35 


But  when  our  Country's  cause  provokes  to  Arms, 
How  martial  music  ev'ry  bosom  warms! 
So  when  the  first  bold  vessel  dar'd  the  seas, 
High  on  the  stern  the  Thracian  raised  his  strain, 

While  Argo  saw  her  kindred  trees  40 

Decend  from  Pelion  to  the  main. 

Transported  demi-gods  stood  round,^ 
And  men  grew  heroes  at  the  sound, 
Enflam'd  with  glory's  charms  : 
Each  chief  his  sevenfold  shield  displayed,  45 

And  half  unsheath'd  the  shining  blade : 
And  seas,  and  rocks,  and  skies  rebound, 
To  arms,  to  arms,  to  arms ! 


But  when  thro'  all  th'  infernal  bounds. 

Which  flaming  Phlegethon  surrounds,  50 

1  Few  images  in  any  poet,  ancient  or  modern,  wife  with  the  young  Achilles  in  her  arms,  that  he 

are  more  striking  than  that  in  Apollonius,  where  might  shew  the  child  to  his  father  Peleus,  who 

he  says,  that  when  the  Argo  was  sailing  near  the  was  on  his  voyage  with  the  other  Argonauts, 

coast  where  the  Centaur  Chiron  dwelt,  he  came  ApoUon.  Rhod.  v.  553.     Warton. 
down  to  the  very  margin  of  the  sea,  bringing  his 


42  ODES. 

Love,  strong  as  Death,  the  Poet  led 
To  the  pale  nations  of  the  dead, 
What  sounds  were  heard, 
What  scenes  appearM, 

O'er  all  the  dreary  coasts !  55 

Dreadful  gleams. 
Dismal  screams. 
Fires  that  glow, 
Shrieks  of  woe, 

Sullen  moans,  60 

Hollow  groans. 
And  cries  of  tortur'd  ghosts! 
But  hark !  he  strikes  the  golden  lyre ; 
And  see !  the  tortur'd  ghosts  respire, 

See,  shady  forms  advance!  65 

Thy  stone,  O  Sisyphus,  stands  still,^ 
Ixion  rests  upon  his  wheel, 
And  the  pale  spectres  dance! 
The  Furies  sink  upon  their  iron  beds, 
And  snakes  uncurPd  hang  list'ning  round  their  heads.     70 

V. 

By  the  streams  that  ever  flow, 
By  the  fragrant  winds  that  blow 

O'er  th'  Elysian  flow'rs  ; 
By  those  happy  souls  who  dwell 
In  yellow  meads  of  Asphodel,  75 

Or  Amaranthine  bow'rs ; 
By  the  hero's  armed  shades, 
Glitt'ring  thro'  the  gloomy  glades, 
By  the  youths  that  died  for  love, 

Wand'ring  in  the  myrtle  grove,  86 

Restore,  restore  Eurydice  to  life : 
Oh  take  the  husband,  or  return  the  wife ! 
He  sung,  and  hell  consented 
To  hear  the  Poet's  prayer : 
Stern  Proserpine  relented,  85 

And  gave  him  back  the  fair. 
Thus  song  could  prevail 
O'er  death,  and  o'er  hell, 
A  conquest  how  hard  and  how  glorious! 

Tho'  fate  had  fast  bound  her  90 

With  Styx  nine  times  round  her,^ 
Yet  music  and  love  were  victorious. 

1  This  line  is  taken  from  an  ode  of  Cobb,  and  have  so  much  the  air  of  a  vulgar  drinking 
Warton.  song,  that  one  is  amazed  and  concerned  to  find 

2  [Warton  justly  observes  that  these  numbers  them  in  a  serious  ode.] 
are  of  so  burlesque,  so  low,  and  ridiculous  a  kind) 


ODES.  43 

V       VI. 

But  soon,  too  soon,  the  lover  turns  his  eyes : 
Again  she  falls,  again  she  dies,  she  dies ! 

How  wilt  thou  now  the  fatal  sisters  move  ?  95 

No  crime  was  thine,  if 't  is  no  crime  to  love. 
Now  under  hanging  mountains, 
Beside  the  fall  of  fountains, 
Or  where  Hebrus  wanders, 

Rolling  in  Maeanders,  lOO 

All  alone. 

Unheard,  unknown, 
He  makes  his  moan ; 
And  calls  her  ghost. 
For  ever,  ever,  ever  lost!  105 

Now  with  Furies  surrounded, 
Despairing,  confounded. 
He  trembles,  he  glows. 
Amidst  Rhodope's  snows ; 
See,  wild  as  the  winds,  o'er  the  desert  he  flies ;  1 10 

Hark!  Haemus  resounds  with  the  Bacchanals'  cries  — 

Ah  see,  he  dies! 
Yet  ev'n  in  death  Eurydice  he  sung, 
Eurydice  still  trembled  on  his  tongue, 

Eurydice  the  woods,  115 

Eurydice  the  floods, 
Eurydice  the  rocks,  and  hollow  mountains  rung. 


VII. 

Music  the  fiercest  grief  can  charm, 
And  fate's  severest  rage  disarm : 

Music  can  soften  pain  to  ease,  120 

And  make  despair  and  madness  please : 
Our  joys  below  it  can  improve, 
And  antedate  the  bliss  above. 
This  the  divine  Cecilia  found, 
And  to  her  Maker's  praise  confin'd  the  sound.  125 

When  the  full  organ  joins  the  tuneful  quire, 

Th'  immortal  pow'rs  incline  their  ear. 
Borne  on  the  swelling  notes  our  souls  aspire, 
While  solemn  airs  improve  the  sacred  fire ; 

And  Angels  lean  from  heav'n  to  hear.  130 

Of  Orpheus  now  no  more  let  Poets  tell, 
To  bright  Cecilia  greater  power  is  giv'n ; 

liisjoiinibers  rais'd  a  shade  from  hell,         (i\^      / 
H€r5JiftJhfi.spuI  to  heav'n.  ^^^^^^^  ''^^-  .'' 


44  ODES. 


TWO   CHORUS'S 

TO  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  BRUTUS.i 

\yulius  CcBsar,  after  undergoing  a  previous  process  of  emasculation,  was  converted 
by  the  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire  into  two  five  act  tragedies,  entitled  respectively  Julius 
CcBsar  and  Marcus  Brutus,  each  being  supplied  with  a  Prologue  and  choruses  between 
the  acts.  They  were  published  in  1722.  Pope's  choruses  occur  after  the  1st  and  the 
Ilnd  Act  of  Brutus  respectively.  The  best  excuse  for  Buckinghamshire's  attempt  lies 
in  what  is  really  a  fault  in  Shakspere's  work  —  its  duality  of  heroes;  but  the  manner  in 
which  he  executed  this  task  speaks  ill  for  the  judgment  of  one  who  himself  avers  that 
the  hope  of  mending  Shakspere  is  *  such  a  jest  would  make  a  stoic  smile.'  The  con- 
cluding lines  of  his  Ccesar  may  be  quoted  as  a  specimen  of  his  additions  : 

'  Ambition,  when  unbounded,  brings  a  curse, 
But  an  assassinate  deserves  a  worse.' 

As  to  John  Sheffield  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire  see  note  to  Essay  on  Crit  V.  724.] 

CHORUS   OF  ATHENIANS.^ 

Strophe  i. 

YE  shades,  where  sacred  truth  is  sought ; 
Groves,  where  immortal  Sages  taught ; 
Where  heav'nly  visions  Plato  fir'd, 
And  Epicurus  lay  inspired !  ^ 

In  vain  your  guiltless  laurels  stood  5 

Unspotted  long  with  human  blood. 
War,  horrid  war,  your  thoughtful  walks  invades, 
And  steel  now  glitters  in  the  Muses'  shades. 

Antistrophe  I. 

Oh  heav'n-born  sisters!  source  of  art! 

Who  charm  the  sense,  or  mend  the  heart ;  10 

Who  lead  fair  Virtue's  train  along, 

Moral  Truth,  and  mystic  Song! 

To  what  new  clime,  what  distant  sky, 

Forsaken,  friendless  shall  ye  fly? 

1  Altered  from  Shakespear  by  the  Duke  of  of  the  heroes  of  this  play,  was  of  the  old  Acad- 
Buckingham,  at  whose  desire  these  two  Chorus's  emy ;  and  Cassius,  the  other,  was  an  Epicurean; 
were  composed  to  supply  as  many  wanting  in  but,  this  had  not  been  enough  to  justify  the  poet's 
his  play.  They  were  set  niany  years  afterwards  choice,  had  not  Plato's  system  of  Divinity,  and 
by  the  famous  Bononcini,  and  performed  at  Epicurus's  system  of  Morals,  been  the  most 
Buckingham-house.     P.  rational    amongst   the  various   sects  of  Greek 

2  [In  the  play  this  chorus  is   composed  *  of  philosophy.     Warburton. 

Athenian  Philosophers,'  and  succeeds  a  scene  at         I  cannot  be  persuaded  that  Pope  thought  of 

Athens  between  Brutus  and  Cassius,  founded  in  Brutus  and  Cassius  as  being  followers  of  different 

part  on  Shaksp.  —  Act.  iv.  Sc.  3.]  sects  of  philosophy;      Warton. 

3  Where  heavenly  visions  Plato  fired,  And  [In  the  play  we  read  '  godlike  Zeno,'  instead 
Epicurus  lay   inspired !\      The  propriety  of  of  *  Epicurus.'] 

these  lines  arises  from  hence,  that  Brutus,  one 


ODES. 


Say,  will  you  bless  the  bleak  Atlantic  shore?  15 

Or  bid  the  furious  Gaul  be  rude  no  more  ? 

Strophe  ii. 

When  Athens  sinks  by  fates  unjust, 

When  wild  Barbarians  spurn  her  dust ; 

Perhaps  ev'n  Britain's  utmost  shore 

Shall  cease  to  blush  with  stranger's  gore,  20 

See  Arts  her  savage  sons  control, 

And  Athens  rising  near  the  pole ! 
'Till  some  new  Tyrant  lifts  his  purple  hand, 
And  civil  madness  tears  them  from  the  land. 

Antistrophe  II. 

Ye  Gods!  what  justice  rules  the  ball?  25 

Freedom  and  Arts  together  fall ; 

Fools  grant  whatever  Ambition  craves, 

And  men,  once  ignorant,  are  slaves. 

Oh  curs'd  effects  of  civil  hate. 

In  ev'ry  age,  in  ev'ry  state!  30 

Still,  when  the  lust  of  tyrant  power  succeeds, 
Some  Athens  perishes,  some  TuUy  bleeds. 


CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS.^ 

Semichorus. 

OH  Tyrant  Love!  hast  thou  possest 
The  prudent,  learn'd,  and  virtuous  breast? 
Wisdom  and  wit  in  vain  reclaim. 
And  Arts  but  soften  us  to  feel  thy  flame. 

Love,  soft  intruder,  enters  here,  5 

But  entering  learns  to  be  sincere. 
Marcus  with  blushes  owns  he  loves, 
And  Brutus  tenderly  reproves. 

Why,  Virtue,  dost  thou  blame  desire,^ 

Which  Nature  has  imprest?  10 

Why,  Nature,  dost  thou  soonest  fire 
Themild  and  gen'rous  breast? 

*  [This  chorus  follows  a  scene  in  which  Varius,         2  w^iy^  Virtue,  etc.]      In  allusion  to  that 

ft  young  Roman  bred  at  Athens,  has  confessed  famous  conceit  of  Guarini, 

to  Brutus  his  hopeless  passion  for  the  sister  of  "  Se  il  peccare  h  si  dolce,  etc." —  IVarburton. 
the  latter,  Junia,  the  wife  of  Cassius.] 


46  ODES, 

Chorus. 
Love's  purer  flames  the  Gods  approve ;  ^ 

The  Gods  and  Brutus  bend  to  love : 

Brutus  for  absent  Portia  sighs,  15 

And  sterner  Cassius  melts  at  Junia^s  eyes. 
What  is  loose  love  ?  a  transient  gust, 
Spent  in  a  sudden  storm  of  lust, 
A  vapour  fed  from  wild  desire, 

A  wandering,  self-consuming  fire,  20 

But  Hymen's  kinder  flames  unite ; 

And  burn  for  ever  one  ; 
Chaste  as  cold  Cynthia's  virgin  light, 
Productive  as  the  Sun. 

Semichorus. 
Oh  source  of  ev'ry  social  tie,  25 

United  wish,  and  mutual  joy! 
What  various  joys  on  one  attend. 
As  son,  as  father,  brother,  husband,  friend? 
Whether  his  hoary  sire  he  spies. 

While  thousand  grateful  thoughts  arise ;  30 

Or  meets  his  spouse's  fonder  eye ; 
Or  views  his  smiling  progeny  ; 

What  tender  passions  take  their  turns. 

What  home-felt  raptures  move? 
His  heart  now  melts,  now  leaps,  now  burns,  35 

With  rev'rence,  hope,  and  love. 

Chorus. 
Hence  guilty  joys,  distastes,  surmises, 
Hence  false  tears,  deceits,  disguises, 
Dangers,  doubts,  delays,  surprises ; 

Fires  that  scorch  yet  dare  not  shine,  40 

Purest  love's  unwasting  treasure, 
Constant  faith,  fair  hope,  long  leisure, 
Days  of  ease,  and  nights  of  pleasure ; 

Sacred  Hymen!  these  are  thine. 


H' 


ODE   ON    SOLITUDE.i 

fAPPY  the  man  whose  wish  and  care 
A  few  paternal  acres  bound. 
Content  to  breathe  his  native  air. 

In  his  own  ground. 

*  This  was  a  very  early  production  of   our    earliest  production,  yet  Dodsley,  who  was  hon- 
Author,  written  at  about  twelve  years  old.     P.     cured  with  his  intimacy,  had  seen  several  pieces 
Though  this   Ode  ...  is  said  to   be   his    of  a  still  earlier  date.    Roscoe* 


ODES,  47 

Whose  herds  with  milk,  whose  fields  with  bread,  5 

Whose  flocks  supply  him  with  attire, 
Whose  trees  in  summer  yield  him  shade, 

In  winter  fire. 
Blest,  who  can  unconcernedly  find 

Hours,  days,  and  years  slide  soft  away,  10 

In  health  of  body,  peace  of  mind, 
Quiet  by  day, 

Sound  sleep  by  night ;  study  and  ease. 

Together  mixt ;  sweet  recreation ; 
And  innocence,  which  most  does  please  15 

With  meditationo 

Thus  let  me  live,  unseen,  unknown. 

Thus  unlamented  let  me  die, 
Steal  from  the  world,  and  not  a  ston« 

Tell  where  I  lie.  20 


THE   DYING   CHRISTIAN   TO   HIS   SOUL. 

[Written  1712.] 

This  Ode  was  written,  we  find,  at  the  desire  of  Steele  ;  and  our  Poet,  in  a  letter  to 
him  on  that  occasion,  says,  —  'You  have  it,  as  Cowley  calls  it,  just  warm  from  the 
brain ;  it  came  to  me  the  first  moment  I  waked  this  morning ;  yet,  you'll  see,  it  was  not 
so  absolutely  inspiration,  but  that  I  had  in  my  head,  not  only  the  verses  of  Hadrian, 
but  the  fine  fragment  of  Sappho.'  It  is  possible,  however,  that  our  Author  might  have 
had  another  composition  in  his  head,  besides  those  he  here  refers  to :  for  there  is  a 
close  and  surprising  resemblance  between  this  Ode  of  Pope,  and  one  of  an  obscure 
and  forgotten  rhymer  of  the  age  of  Charles  the  Second,  Thomas  Flatman.  Warton. 
[The  following  was  Pope's  first  '  notion  of  the  last  words  to  Adrian,'  sent  to  Steele  for 
insertion  in  the  Spectator: 

Ah  fleeting  Spirit !  wand'ring  fire,  Whither,  ah  whither  art  thou  flying  ! 

That  long  hast  warm'd  my  tender  breast,  To  what  dark,  undiscover'd  shore? 

Must  thou  no  more  this  frame  inspire  Thou  see'st  all  trembling,  shiv'ring,  dying, 

No  more  a  pleasing,  cheerful  guest  ?  And  Wit  and  Humour  are  no  more !] 

Prior  also  translated  this  little  Ode,  but  with  manifest  inferiority  to  Pope.  Bowles. 
[Mrs.  Piozzi,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  James  Fellowes  (Hayward's  Autobiography,  Letters  and 
Literary  Remains  f7/Mrs.  Piozzi,  II.  287)  declares  it  odd  that  her  correspondent  should 
prefer  her  version  of  Hadrian's  lines  to  those  of  better  poets.] 

ODE.i 

I. 

VITAL  spark  of  heav'nly  flame! 
Quit,  oh  quit  this  mortal  frame : 
Trembling,  hoping,  ling'ring,  flying, 
Oh  the  pain,  the  bliss  of  dying! 

^  This  ode  was  written  in  imitation  of  the  but  as  much  superior  in  sense  and  sublimity  to 
famous  sonnet  of  Hadrian  to  his  departing  soul ;     his  original,  as  the  Christian  religion  is  to  the 


48  ODES. 


Cease,  fond  Nature,  cease  thy  strife, 
And  let  me  languish  into  life. 


Hark!  they  whisper;  Angels  say, 

Sister  Spirit,  come  away. 

What  is  this  absorbs  me  quite  ? 

Steals  my  senses,  shuts  my  sight,  lo 

Drowns  my  spirits,  draws  my  breath? 
Tell  me,  my  Soul,  can  this  be  Death? 

III. 

The  world  recedes ;  it  disappears! 
Heav'n  opens  on  my  eyes !  my  ears 

With  sounds  seraphic  ring :  15 

Lend,  lend  your  wings!  I  mount!  I  fly! 
O  Grave!  where  is  thy  Victory? 

O  Death!  where  is  thy  Sting?     , 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM. 

[Written  in  the  Year  M.DCC.IX.] 

[Considered  solely  as  a  phenomenon  in  literary  history,  the  Essay  on  Criti- 
cism is  doubtless  one  of  the  most  remarkable  instances  of  precocious  genius  which 
the  "annals  of  English  or  of  any  other  literature  afford.  Pope  was  in  his  twentieth 
year  when  he  produced  this  work,  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  a  class  of  poetry  asso- 
ciated rather  with  the  ripeness  of  experience  than  with  the  eager  productivity  of 
youth.  The  Ars  Poetica  of  Horace  with  which  it  is  naturally  common  to  com- 
pare Pope's  Essay,  was,  if  iiul  llie  l5'iit,  at  all  events  one  of  the  last  works  of  the 
I^omaTi-.fi<»4a^;--^nTrHnnr^=*-ijip  ^rt  Pnpfigufi  of  Koilpan  was  at  least  Composed  in  man- 
hood, being  pubHshed  in  the  writer's  33rd  year  (1674).  But  in  the  case  of  Pope, 
nothing  beyond  imitative  attempts  (among  which  we  are  justified  in  including  the 
Pastorals)  and  a  few  trifling  original  pieces,  had  preceded  a  production  which  was 
at  once  hailed  by  the  most  judicious  and  cool-headed  of  contemporary  critics,  by 
Addison  (in  the  Spectator^  No.  253),  as  a  masterpiece  of  .its  kind,  and  worthy  to 
rank  as  an  equal  with  its  few  distinguished  predecessors  in  the  same  department, 
predecessors  whose  reputation  has  long  been  obscured  by  the  fame  of  their  panegyr- 
ist and  rival.  Of  this  phenomenon  the  secondary  causes  are  no  doubt  to  be  sought 
in  the  facts  that  from  his  earliest  days  the  studies  of  Pope  had  by  preference  as  well 
as  circumstance  been  directed  to  the  best  classical  models;  that  his  chief  delights 
when  a  mere  boy  had  been  Homer  and  Ovid;    and  that  among  the  Enghsh  poets 

Pagan.    Warhurton.    [For  Pope's  very  sensible  criticism  of  the  Emperor  Hadrian's  lines,  see  hif 
letter  to  Steele  dated  November  7th  1712.] 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM.  49 

whom  he  read  Spenser  and  Dryden  and  Waller  were  at  once  the  earliest  and  the 
most  favoured.  Thus  a  correct  and  discriminating  taste  was  from  the  first  formed 
in  a  youth  whose  mind,  moreover,  was  not  distracted  by  the  influences  of  any 
particular  calling  or  profession;  and  the  singleness  of  purpose  with  which  he  de- 
voted himself  to  the  cultivation  of  an  art  which  even  as  a  boy  he  had  already 
made  the  business  of  his  life,  enabled  him  to  be  a  critic  in  that  art  at  an  age , 
when  few  men  are  enabled  to  class  themselves  even  as  its  professed  votaries. 

The  Essay  on  Criticism^  written  in  1 709,  was  first  advertised  for  publication  in 
171 1.  In  the  concluding  lines  of  the  poem  in  which  Pope  sums  up  the  claims  of 
his  predecessors  to  the  *  critic's  ivy/  we  have  It  not  a  complete  ,^nd  satisfactory 
view  of  what  before  him  had  been  actually  done  for  poetic  criticism,  at  all  events 
a  summary  ot  what  tn  his  oMnion  had  been  accompljfibe^,  in  other  words,  a  sur- 
vey of  the  authors  and  works  to  whom  he  thought  it  right  to  make  his  acknowl- 
edgments  He  jusUy  connects  the  revival  of  criticism  with  that  second  revival 
of  learning  which  is  knownas  the  Renaissance,  and  which  though  originally  fos- 
tered by  Popes,  soon  intimately  united  itself  with,  and  powerfully  invigorated 
itself  by,  the  movement  of  the  Reformation.  Vida  is  perhaps  scarcely  entitled 
to  be  selected  as  the  representative  at  once  of  the  critical  and  the  literary 
Renaissance  and  to  be  coupled  with  Raphael.  As  the  movement  passed  the  Alps 
and  spread  trom  Italy  into  J^'rance  and  Germany  and  England,  the  fashion  of  so- 
called  critical  discourses  accompanied  it.  English  literature  abounds  in  well-meant 
attempts,  from  Puttenham  downwards  through  Sidney  and  Spenser  and  King 
James  I.  himself,  to  discuss  the  rationale  as  well  as  to  exemplify  the  particular 
forms  of  the  poetic  art.  Little  valuable  criticism  was,  however,  to  be  expected  in 
a  strongly  creative  age.  *  In  the  England  of  Shakspere,'  as  Mr  Matthew  Arnold 
has  observed,  *the  poet  lived  in  a  current  of  ideas  in  the  highest  degree  animating 
and  nourishing  to  the  creative  power;  society  was,  in  the  fullest  measure,  permeated 
by  fresh  thought,  intelligent  and  active;  and  this  state  of  things  is  the  true  basis 
for  the  creative  power's  exercise;  in  this  it  finds  its  data,  its  materials,  truly  ready 
for  its  hand;  all  the  books  and  reading  in  the  world  are  only  valuable  as  they  are 
helps  to  this.'  Bacon  recognised  the  existence  of  this  current  when  he  wrote  in 
the  second  Book  of  \iva  Advancement  of  Learning:  *  In  this  part  of  learning,  which 
is  poesy,  I  can  report  no  deficiency.  For  being  as  a  plant  that  cometh  of  the  lust 
of  the  earth,  without  a  formal  seed,  it  hath  sprung  up  and  spread  abroad  more  than 
any  kind.'  English  literature  ran  its  vigorous  course  through  the  reign  of  Elizabeth 
and  the  first  part  of  that  of  James,  accompanying  and  illustrating  the  national  de- 
velopment. But  then,  as  the  great  separation  of  the  nation  into  two  camps 
became  more  and  more  broadly  marked,  literature  too  ceased  to  be  a  common 
possession  of  the  whole  nation;  and  as  the  Court  party  after  its  final  victory  in  the 
Restoration  sold  England  to  an  anti-national  policy  and  system  of  government,  so 
literature  swerved  aside  from  its  onward  course  to  coquet  with  foreign  develop- 
ments and  to  neglect  its  own.  The  elevation  to  which  Milton  had  carried  English 
poetry  was  obscured  by  the  clouds  of  prejudice  and  fashion;  and  instead  of  pro- 
gressing from  the  point  at  which  it  had  arrived  it  deviated  into  paths  whence  it 
was  not  to  return  for  a  century  in  order  to  resume  its  onward  course.  It  is  at  such 
a  period,  when  a  nation  has  lost  its  true  creative  enthusiasm,  that  uncertain  of 


50  ESSAV  OAT  CRITICISM, 

itself  it  turns  its  eyes  to  foreign  developments  or  supposed  developments.  The 
influence  of  French  upon  English  literature  in  the  i8th  century  is  accounted  for 
by  our  weakness  rather  than  our  neighbours'  strength.  It  was  not  that  French 
rules  prevailed  over  English  love  for  the  '  liberties  of  wit;  '  but  that  in  the  absence 
of  creative  genius  our  writers  naturally  and  necessarily  resorted  to  imitation  of 
models  rather  than  adoption  of  rules.  Boileau  was  as  little  as  Pope  an  apostle  of 
the  pseudo-classicism  of  the  so-called  Augustan  age  of  French  literature;  he  as 
well  as  Pope  knew  that  nothing  will  make  a  man  a  poet  '  si  son  astre  en  naissant 
ne  I'a  forme  poete;  '  and  the  classical  simplicity  which  he  preached  was  not  in  his 
opinion  attained  by  the  sham  revival  of  stock  subjects  of  ancient  poetry,  Hectors 
and  Andromaches  and  Iliums,  in  which  as  he  says  the  actors  unfortunately  drop 
the  antique  mass  while  the  fiddle  plays  the  chorus.  In  England,  amidst  the  chaos 
of  imitations  of  foreign  models,  among  the  reckless  or  helpless  follies  to  which 
even  a  Dryden  prostituted  his  muse  in  her  many  weaker  hours,  criticism  would 
have  been  best  employed  in  recalling  what  English  poetry  had  already  achieved 
and  shewing  to  what  extent  even  in  the  midst  of  its  present  deviations  it  still  held 
to  the  pursuit  of  a  legitimate  onward  movement.  The  Earl  of  Roscommon,  in 
his  Essay  on  Translated  Verse,  at  all  events  did  good  service  in  dwelling  upon 
the  merits  of  Milton,  an  endeavour  in  which  he  was  afterwards  more  elaborately 
seconded  by  Addison  himself.  No  such  merit  however  attaches  to  the  efforts  of 
Walsh  and  the  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire;  and  the  praise  which  Pope  thinks  fit 
to  bestow  upon  them  must  be  attributed  in  the  one  case  to  the  in^uence  of  grate- 
ful friendship,  and  in  the  other  to  that  of  courtly  obsequiousness.  Such  being 
Pope's  modern  predecessors  in  poetic  criticism,  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  his 
chief  obligations  lie  to  the  ancients  whom  he  enumerates  in  this  Essay,  rather 
than  to  the  moderns,  to  whom  at  the  most  he  owes  particular  felicitous  thoughts 
and  expressions. 

The  Essay  on  Criticism  is  beyond  a  doubt  constructed  on  a  fixed  plan,  of  which 
the  main  features  are  clearly  enough  marked  by  the  author,  while~we  are  by  no 
means  obliged  to  accept  its  evolution  as  stated  by  Warburton  in  his  lengthy 
Commentary.  The  latter  effort  is  indeed  rather  a  monument  of  piety  than  a  mar- 
vel of  ingenuity.  Pope's  Essay  is  not  an  Art  of  Poetry,  but,  what  it  professes  to 
be,  a  corinected  fiig^fMifge  on  Criticism,  in  which,  however,  it  was  neither  intended 
nor  necessary  to  avoid  the  incidental  introduction  of  precepts  concerning  the 
subject-matter  as  well  as  the  manner  of  poetic  criticism.  It  divides  itself  into 
three  parts  naturally  and  easily  following  one  another:  the  foundation  of  true 
criticism:  the  causes  preventmg  it;_and  the  causes  prodnrinp^  ^^  ^""^  pvpmpHfiprl 
in'^ts  most  emtrrent  professors.  But,  as  should  always  be  the  case  in  a  readable 
essay  whethefln  prose  or  verse,  abruptness  is  avoided  in  the  transitions,  and  the 
successive  precepts  are  easily  and  happily  linked  together  by  examples  which 
render  this  didactic  work  as  entertaining  as  it  is  instructive.  Th^  errors  of  man- 
ner in  composition,  and  particularly  Jnjzgrsification.  on  which  theJEfesay  incident- 
ally touches,  are  illustrated  without  effort  in  the  verse  itse^;  the  open  vowels, 
the  monosyllables,  the  lagging  Alexandrine,  the  regulation  rhyipe,  —  all  these  are 
not  discussed  atlenglh^  but  each^is  instanced  in  passing  with  a  single  and  effec- 
tive touch.] 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM, 


51 


CONTENTS   OF   THE   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM. 


Part  I. 

Introduction .  That 't  is  as  great  a  fault 
to  judge  ill,  as  to  write  ill,  and  a  more  dan- 
gerous one  to  the  public,  v.  i. 

That  a  true  Taste  is  as  rare  to  be  found, 
as  a  true  Genius,  v.  9  to  18. 

That  most  men  are  born  with  some  Taste, 
but  spoiled  by  false  Education,  v.  19  to  25. 

The  multitude  of  Critics,  and  causes  of 
them,  V.  26  to  45. 

That  we  are  to  study  our  own  Taste,  and 
know  the  Limits  of  it,  v.  46  to  67. 

Nature  the  best  guide  of  Judgment,  v.  68 
to  87. 

Improved  by  Art  and  Rules,  which  are  but 
methodis'd  Nature,  88. 

Rules  derived  from  the  Practice  of  the 
Ancient  Poets,  v.  id.  to  no. 

That  therefore  the  Ancients  are  neces- 
sary to  be  studyd,  by  a  Critic,  particularly 
Homer  and  Virgil,  v.  120  to  138. 

Of  Licenses,  and  the  use  of  them  by  the 
Ancients,  v.  140  to  180. 

Reverence  due  to  the  Ancients,  and  praise 
of  them,  V.  181,  etc. 

Part  XL    Ver.  203,  etc. 

Causes  hindering  a  true  Judgment. 
I.  Pride,  v.  208.  2.  Imperfect  Learn- 
ing, V.  215.    3.    Judging  by  parts,  and  not 


by  the  whole,  v.  233  to  288.  Critics  in  Wit, 
Language,  Versification,  only,  v.  288,  305, 
399,  etc.  4.  Being  too  hard  to  please,  or  too 
apt  to  admire,  v.  384.  5.  Partiality  —  too 
much  Love  to  a  Sect,  —  to  the  Ancients  or 
Moderns,  v.  394.  6.  Prejudice  or  Pre- 
vention, V.  408.  7.  Singularity,  v.  424, 
8.  Inconstancy,  v.  430.  9.  Party  Spirit, 
V.  452,  etc.  10.  Envy,  v.  466.  Against 
Envy,  and  in  praise  of  Good-nature,  v.  508, 
etc.  When  Severity  is  chiefly  to  be  used  by 
Critics,  v.  526,  etc. 

Part  III.  Ver.  560,  etc. 
Rules  for  the  Conduct  of  Manners  in  a 
Critic.  I.  Candour,  v.  563.  Modesty,  v. 
566.  Good-breeding,  v.  572.  Sincerity, 
and  Freedom  of  advice,  v.  578.  2.  When 
ones  Counsel  'is  to  be  restrained,  v.  584. 
Character  of  an  incorrigible  Poet,  v.  600. 
And  of  an  impertinent  Critic,  v.  610,  etc. 
CharaM^r  of  a  good  Critic,  v.  629.  The 
History  £?/ Criticism,  and  Characters  of  the 
best  Critics,  Aristotle,  v.  645.  Horace,  v. 
653.  Dionysius.v.  665.  Petronius,  v.  667. 
Quintilian,  v.  670.  Longinus,  v.  675.  Of 
the  Decay  of  Criticism,  and  its  Revival. 
Erasmus,  v.  693.  Vida,  v.  705.  Boileau,  v. 
714.  Z^rt/Roscommon,  ^/^.,  V.72S.  Con^ 
elusion. 


AN   ESSAY   ON   CRITICISM. 

"T*  IS  hard  to  say,  if  greater  want  of  skill 

1      Appear  in  writing  or  in  judging  ill ; 
But,  of  the  two,  less  dang'rous  is  th'  offence   ^  CJ^AfW^ 

To  tire  our  patience,  than  mislead  onr  sense.  '^l€yy\A^ ,    / 
Some  few  in  that,  but  numbers  err  in  this,        "^tj/JAZ?  ^t^sMAg^ 
Ten  censure  wrong  for  one  who  writes  amiss ;  / 

A  fool  might  once  himself  alone  expose, 
Now  one  in  verse  makes  many  more  in  prose. 

'T  is"  with  our  judgments  as  our  watches,  none 
Go  just  alike,  yet  each  believes  his  own.  10 

In  Poets  as  true  genius  is  but  rare, 
True  Taste  as  seldom  is  the  Critic's  share ; 
Both  must  alike  from  Heav'n  derive  their  light, 
These  born  to  judge,  as  well  as  those  to  write. 


52  ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM. 

Let  such  teach  others  who  themselves  excel,^  15 

And  censure  freely  who  have  written  well.^ 
Authors  are  partial  to  their  wit,^  \  is  true, 
But  are  not  Critics  to  their  judgment  too? 

Yet  if  we  look  more  closely,  we  shall  find 
Most  have  the  seeds  of  judgment  in  their  mind:^ 
Nature  affords  at  least  a  glimmYijigJi^t ; 
Thelines7thQ!3oildb;id-%^^^iam3y7?^  right. 

But  asuthe  slightest  sketch,  if  justly  trac'd, 
Is  by  ill-colouring~tmt  the  "^ore  disgrac'd, 
Sq_by  false  learning  is  good^^MQiefac'd  :  ^ 
Same  are  bewilderl~nrThe  SSPol  schools,^ 
And  some  made  coxcombs  Nature  meant  but  fools. 
In  search  of  wit  these  lose  their  common  sense, 
And' then  turn  Critics  in  their  own  defence  : 
Each  burns  alike,  who  can,  or  cannot  write,  30 

Or  with  a  RivaPs,  or  an  Eunuch's  spite. 
All  fools  have  still  an  itching  to  deride, 
And  fain  would  be  upon  the  laughing  side. 
If  Maevius  scribble  in  Apollo's  spite,"^ 
There  are  who  judge  still  worse  than  he  can  write.  35 

Some  have  at  first  for  Wits,  then  Poets  past. 
Turned  Critics  next,  and  proved  plain  fools  at  last. 
Some  neither  can  for  Wits  nor  Critics  pass, 
As  heavy  mules  are  neither  horse  nor  ass. 

Those  half-learn'd  witlings,  numerous  in  our  isle,  40 

As  half-form'd  insects  on  the  banks  of  Nile ; 
Unfinished  things,  one  knows  not  what  to  call. 
Their  generation  's  so  equivocal : 
To  tell  'em,  would  a  hundred  tongues  require, 
Or  one  vain  wit's,  that  might  a  hundred  tire.  45 

But  you  who  seek  to  give  and  merit  fame,  ' 

And  justly  bear  a  Critic's  noble  name. 
Be  sure  yourself  and  your  own  reach  to  know, 

1  Let  such  teach  others']  *  Qui  scribit  artifi-    it  seems  tantamount  to  *  creative  power '  or  *  ge- 
ciose,  ab  aliis  commode  scripta  facile  intelligere    nius.'] 

poterit.*    Cic.  ad  Herenn.  lib.  iv.     *  De  pictore,         *  Most  have  the  seeds']  *  Omnes  tacito  quodam 

sculptore,  fictore,  nisi  artifex,  judicare  non  po-  s6nsu,  sine  ulla  arte,  aut  ratione,  quae  sint  in 

test.'    Pliny.    P.  artibus  ac  rationibus  recta  et  prava  dijudicant.* 

2  [Warton,  who  quotes  Dryden's  remark  that  Cic.  de  Orat.  lib.  iii.     P. 

none  but  a  poet  is  qualified  to  judge  of  a  poet,  ^  5-^  by  false  learning]  *  Plus  sine  doctrina 

has  an  excellent  illustrative  note,  too  long  for  prudentia,  quam  sine  prudentia  valet  doctrina.* 

insertion,  on  the  amount  of  truth  contained  in  Quint.     P. 

the  observation.      The    relations  between    the  e  Some  are  bewilder' d,  &c.]     This  thought 

creative  and  the   critical   power  have  perhaps  is  taken  from  Lord  Rochester,  but  more  decently 

rarely  been   more   clearly  pointed  out  than  in  expressed: 

Mr.  Matthew  Arnold's  Essay  on  the  Function  '  God  never  made  a  coxcomb  worth  a  groat, 

0/  Criticism  at  the  present  Time.]  We  owe  that  name  to  industry  and  arts.' 

3  [The  word  '  wit '  is  said  to  be  used  in  Pope's  Warbitrton 
Essay  on  Criticism   in   seven   different   senses.  '  [Verg.  Buc.  in.  90.     Hor.  E^od.  X.  2.] 
Bain's  Eng.  Comp.  and  Rhetoric,  p.  57.    Here 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM. 


j^ 

-^, 


How  far  your  genius^  tai 


.earning  go ; 


Launch  not^beyonJ  your  depth,  but  be^iscreet, 
And  nrarinhat  poirirvvTiefesense  ah^dulness  ni( 


tthihgs^fi~x^ 
And  wisely  curF'g^i'oud  imm^D -pratJQMt^  wit. 
As  on  the  land  while  here  the  ocean  gains, 
In  other  parts  it  leaves  wide  sandy  plains ; 
Thus  in  the  soul  while  memory  prevails, 
The  solid  powY  of  understanding  fails  ; 
Where  beams  of  warm  imagination  play, 
The  memory's  soft  figures  melt  away. 
One^science  only  will  one  genius  fit ; 
So  vast  i»  art,  so  narrow  human  wit : 
Not  only  bounded  to  peculiar  arts, 
But  oft  in  those  confined  to  single  parts. 
Like  kings  we  lose  the  conquests  gainM  before, 
By  vain  ambition  still  to  make  them  more ; 
^jch-might  his  sev'ral  province  well  command. 
Would  all  but  stoop  to  what  they  understand. 
First  foUow  NBjure^^ndj^oui,jiH%jnentfraMe 
' -By _hB'  just  "Jrtan^ard'J  winch  is  still  the  same->«  /   ^^y 
UTteFFing  Nature;  still  divinely  bright,         J^~~^^ — • 
One  clear,  unchang^d,^ahd  universal  light,      ''  '   ^' 
n% -force,  and  beauty,  must  to  all  impart, 
Ai  once  the  source,  and  end,  and  test  of  Art. 

Art  from  that  fimd  f^-arh  jnc;t  supply  provides^ 

Works  without  show,  and  withoujj^^jafrTTfesides : 
In  some  fair  body  thus  th'  informing  soul 
With  spirits  feeds,  with  vigour  fills  the  whole. 
Each  motion  guides,  affdreWy  nerve  sustains ; 
Itself  unseen,  but  in  th'  effects,  remains. 
Some,  to  whom  Heaven  in  wit  has  been  profirse,^ 
./Want  as  much  more,  to  turn  it  to  its  use ;  -. 
For  wit  j.nd-|aclgment  often  are  at  strife, 
Tlro^'meant  each  otTiefVaidTtikeTTIan  and  wife. 
'T  is  more  to  guide,  than  spur  the  Muse's  steed ; 
Restrain  his  fury,  than  provoke  his  speed ; 
The  winged  courser,  like  a  genVous  horse. 
Shows  most  true  mettle  when  you  check  his  course. 

Those  Rules  of  old  discovered,  not  devisM.^ 
Are  Nature  still,  but  N2iure--naethodizUi ;  ^  -^^t<»*S^dA 


^f  JO 


60 


65 


70 


75 


80 


85 


/( 


1  (Variation:)    -.— — " 

There  are  whom  Heav'n  has  blest  with  store  of 

wit, 
Yet  want  as  much  again  to  manage  it. 

2  T/tose  Rules  of  old,  &c.]  Cicero  has,  best 
of  any  one  I  know,  explained  what  that  is  which 
reduces  the  wild  and  scattered  parts  of  human 
knowledge  into  arts.  —  '  Nihil  est  quod  ad  artem 
redigi  posset,  nisi  ille  prius,  qui  ilia  tenet,  quo- 
rum artem  instituerc  y^t,  habeat  illam  scientiam, 


lit  ex  its  rebus,  quarum  ars  nondum  sit,  artem 
efficere  possit.  —  Omnia  fere,  quae  sunt  conclusa 
nunc  artibus,  dispersa  et  dissipata  quondam  fue- 
runt,  ut  in  musicis,  etc.  Adhibita  est  igitnr  ars 
quaedam  extrinsecus  ex  alio  genere  quodam, 
quod  sibi  totum  Philosophi  assumunt,  quae  rem 
dissolutam  divulsamque  conglutinaret,  et  ratione 
quadam  constringeret.'  De  Orat.  lib.  i.  c.  41, 
2,  Warburton, 


54  ESSAY  ON-  CRITICISM, 

\  Nature,  like  liberty,  is  but  restrained  j^     9    9^        9^ 

\         By  the  same  laws  which  first  herself  ordain'd.'^-'^^^'^^^^^ 
1^        Hear  how  lepirn^riX^rf^gce  her  useful  rules  indites^ 
^^    When  to  repress,  and  when  indulge  our  flights : 
High  on  Parnassus'  top  her  sons  she  showM, 
And  pointed  out  those  arduous  paths  they  trod ;  95 

Held  from  afar,  aloft,  th'  immortal  prize,    . 
And  urg'd  the  rest  by  equal  steps  to  rise. 
Just  precepts  thus  from  great  examples  giv'n,i 
She^e^vTfrQin  them'what  they  deriv'd  from  Heav'n. 
The  gen'rous  Criti^Tarm'd -ttePoetV-fire^ —  lOO 

And  taught  the  world  with  reason  to  admire. 
ThenX^riticism  the  Muses  handmaid  provM, 
To  dress  her  charms,  and  make  her  more  belov'd : 
But  following  wits  from  that  intention  stray'd. 
Who  could  not  win  the  mistress,  woo'd  the  maid ;  105 

Against  the  Poets  their  own  arms  they  turn'd. 
Sure  to  hate  most  the  men  from  whom  they  learn'd. 
So  modern  'Pothecaries,^  taught  the  art 
By  Doctor's  bills  to  play  the  Doctor's  part, 
Bold  in  the  practice  of  mistaken  rules,  no 

Prescribe,  apply,  and  call  their  masters  fools. 
Some  on  the  leaves  of  ancient  authors  prey,^ 
Nor  time  nor  moths  e'er  spoil'd  so  much  as  they. 
Some  drily  plain,  without  invention's  aid. 

Write  dull  receipts  how  poems  may  be  made.  115 

These  leave  the  sense,  their  learning  to  display, 
And  those  explain  the  meaning  quite^way.^ 
Ijf    ^  ^^^^Qw  thenjwhose  judgment  the  right  course  would  steer, 

(^^^ j^^^'^YJxi^^U^^^^^^  Aj^ LI ETTT^proper  character ; 

^\  (y^^        His  fable,  subject,  scope  m~ey'jry=^age-^  120 

f^  ReligioTTTCountry,  genius  of  his  Age  : 

Without  all  these  at  once  befoi:^^Tir  eyes, 
Cavil  you  may,  but  never  criticized 

1  yust  precepts\    *  Nee  enim   artibus  editis  *  [A  forward  Critic  often  dupes  us 
factum    est    ut    argumenta    inveniremus,    sed  With  sham  quotations  Peri  HuPsous; 
dicta  sunt  omnia  antequam  prseciperentur;  mox              And  if  we  have  not  read  Longintis, 
ea   scriptor?s  observata  et   collecta  ediderunt.'  Will  magisterially  outshine  us. 
Quifitil.     P.  Then,  lest  with  Greek  he  overrun  ye, 

2  [This  familiar  abbreviation  is  sanctioned  in  Procure  the  Book  for  Love  or  Money 
poetry  by  early  dramatic  usage.     The  Poticary              Translated  from  Boileau's  Translation, 
is  one  of  the  '  Four  P's'  of  John  Heywood's  In-              And  quote  Quotation  on  Qicotation. 
terlude.]  Swift  On  Poetry. ^ 

3  Some  on  the  leaves  —  Some  drily  plain.]  5  Cavil yoti  may,  but  never  criticize.']  The 
The  first,  the  a/^:?  of  those  Italian  critics,  who  at  ^^^^^^  ^^^^^  ^^j^  ^^^^^  originally  inserted  the 
the  restoration  of  letters  having  found  the  classic  foUo^jng,  which  he  has  however  omitted  in  all 
writers  miserably  mangled  by  the  hands  of  monk-  ^^  editions  • 

ish  librarians,  very  commendably  employed  their  .  ^^  ;^^^    ^^^^^    been   known    without    a 

pains  and  talents  in  restoring  them  to  their  native  ' 

purity.     The  second,  the  plagiaries  from  the  name, 

French,  who  had  made  some  admirable  commen-         *  [Zoilus,   called    Homer omastix  from  his 

Uries  on  the  ancient  critics.     Warburton.  petty  criticisms  of  Homer.] 


ESSAV  ON  CRITICISM. 

Be  H-omer-s  works  your  study  and  delight, 

Thence  form  your  judgment,  thence  your  maxims  bring, 


1. 


If- 


'V 


And  trace  the  Muses  upward  to  their  spring. 
Still  with  itself  compard,  his  text  peruse  ; 
And  let  your  comment  be  the  Mantuan  Muse.         V  ^^^<~ 
\  When  first  .young  Maro  in  his  boundless  mind*  ,  130 

/^  work  f  outiasl  immortal  Rome  designed, 
Perhaps  Jie  seem'd  above  the  critic's  law,  / 

\    And  but  from  Nature's  fountains  scorn'd  to  draw :/ 
"^-But  when  t'  examine  ev'ry  part  he  came, 
Nature  and  Homer  were,  he  found,  the  same. 
Convinced,  amaz^dylTe  checks  the  bold  design  • 
/  And  rules  as  strict  his  labour'd  work  confine. 
/<l^'.fi^tSftiL  As  if  the^S^agiiite  o^erlook'd  each  line.'-^    '^' 
^^^^^^  J^earnliince~for  ancient  rules  a  just  esteem ; 

vTo  copy  nature  is  to  copy  them. 
'  Some  beauties  yet  no  Precepts  can  declare. 
For  there's  a  happiness  as  well  as  care. 
Music  resembles  Poetry,  in  each 
Are  nameless  graces  which  no  methods  teach,^ 
And  which  a  master-hand  alone  can  reach. 
If,  where  the  rules  not  far  enough  extend,^ 
(Since  rules  were  made  but  to  promote  their  end) 
Some  lucky  Licence  answer  to  the  full 
Th'  intent  propos'd,  that  Licence  is  a  rule. 
Thus  Pegasus,  a  nearer  way  to  take, 
May  boldly  deviate  from  the  common  track ; 
From  vulgar  bounds  with  brave  disorder  part. 
And  snatch  a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art, 
Which  without  passing  thro'  the  judgment,  gains 
The  heart,  and  all  its  end  at  once  attains.  155 

In  prospects  thus,  some  objects  please  our  eyes,     "l 
Which  out  of  nature's  common  order  rise,  > 

The  shapeless  rock,  or  hanging  precipice.  J 


Had  died,  and  Perault  *  ne'er  been  damn'd  to 

fame; 
The  sense  of  sound  Antiquity  had  reign'd, 
And  sacred  Homer  yet  been  unprophan'd. 
None   e'er   had  thought  his  comprehensive 

mind 
To  modern  customs,  modem  rules  confin'd; 
Who  for  all  ages  writ,  and  all  mankind.     P. 

*  [Perault,  a  Dominican  writer  of  the  13th 
century.] 

1  When  first  young  Maro,  &c.]  Virg. 
Eclog.  VI.  '  Cum  canerem  reges  et  praelia,  Cyn- 
thius  aurem  Vellit.' 

It  is  a  tradition  preserved  by  Servius,  that 
Virgil  began  with  writing  a  poem  of  the  Alban 
and  Roman  affairs:  which  he  found  above  his 
years,  and  descended  first  to  imitate  Theocritus 


on  rural  subjects,  and  afterwards  to  copy  Homer 
in  Heroic  poetry.     P. 

2  [Dr.  Aikin,  quoted  by  Warton,  justly  points 
out  the  inconsistency  between  this  line  and 
v.  272.] 

3  Noti  ratione  aliqud,  sed  tnotu  nescio  an 
inerrabili  judicatur.  Neqtie  hoc  ab  jillo  satis 
explicariputo  licet  viulti tentaverint.  Quintil. 
lib.  VI.     Warton. 

*  If,  where  the  rules,  &c.]  *  Neque  enim  ro- 
gationibus  plebisve  scitis  sancta  sunt  ista  Prae- 
cepta,  sed  hoc,  quicquidest,  Utilitas  excogitavit. 
Non  negabo  autem  sic  utile  esse  plerumque;  ve- 
rum  si  eadem  ilia  nobis  aliud  suadebit  Utilitas, 
hanc,  relictis  magistrorum  autoritatibus,  seque- 
mur.'     Quintil.  lib.  11.  cap.  13.    P. 


56  ESSAY  ON-  CRITICISM. 

Great  wits  sometimes  may  gloriously  offend,^ 
And  rise  to  faults  true  Critics  dare  not  mend.  l6o 

But  tho'  the  Ancients  thus  their  rules  invade, 
(As  Kings  dispense  with  laws  themselves  have  made) 
Moderns,  beware!  or  if  you  must  offend 
Against  the  precept,  ne'er  transgress  its  End ;  / 

Let  it  be  seldom,  and  compelPd  by  need  ;         »       <k    L^  fj  165 
And  have,  at  least,  their  precedent  to  plead  X<A/^  ^  jM/jL 
The  Critic  else  proceeds  without  remorse,  Q^^  '^^ 

-     Seizes  your  fame,  and  puts  his  laws  in  force. 

I  know  there  are,  to  whose  presumptuous  thoughts 
Those  freer  beauties,  ev'n  in  them,  seem  faults.  170 

Some  figures  monstrous  and  mis-shap'd  appear, 
Considered  singly,  or  beheld  too  near. 
Which,  but  proportioned  to  their  light,  or  place, 
Due  distance  reconciles  to  form  and  grace. 
A  prudent  chief  not  always  must  display  ^  17^ 

His  powVs  in  equal  ranks,  and  fair  array. 
Buf  with  th'  occasion  and  the  place  comply, 
Conceal  his  force,  nay  seem  sometimes  to  fly. 
Those  oft  are  stratagems  which  error  seem, 
Nor  is  it  Homer  nods,  but  we  that  dream. ^  180 

Still  green  with  bays  each  ancient  Altar  stands, 
Above  the  reach  of  sacrilegious  hands ; 
Secure  from  Flames,  fromEnvy's  fiercer  rage,* 
Destructive  War,  and  all-involving  Age. 

See,  from  eacH~clime  the  learn-d  their  incense  bring!  185 

Hear,  in  all  tongues  consenting  Paeans  ring! 
In  praise  so  just  let  ev'ry  voice  be  joined. 
And  fill  the  general  chorus  of  mankind. 
Hail,  Bards  triumphant!  born  in  happier  days; 
Immortal  heirs  of  universal  praise!  190 

Whose  honours  with  increase  of  ages  grow, 
As  streams  roll  down,  enlarging  as  they  flow ; 
Nations  unborn  your  mighty  names  shall  sound. 
And  worlds  applaud  that  must  not  yet  be  found! 
Oh  may  some  spark  of  your  celestial  fire,  195 

The  last,  the  meanest  of  your  sons  inspire, 
(That  on  weak  wings,  from  far,  pursues  your  flights ; 

1  Dryden's  Aurungzebe:  eorum  legentibus  placere,  quam  multa  displicere 

*  Mean  soul,  and  dar'st  not  gloriously  offend!  '       maluerim.'     Quint.     P. 

Stevens.         ^  Secure  from  Rames,  /rom  envy's  fiercer 

^A  prudent  chief,  &c.]     0\6v  rt  ■noiovcn.v  rage,  Destructive  wzx,  and aU-invohiinga%c.'\ 

oi.  <}>pdvLfjLOt  <TTpaT7}\dTaL   Kara  ra^  ra^et?  tmv  The  poet  here  alludes  to  the  four  great  causes  of 

a-TparevixaTuiv.     Dion.  Hal.    De  struct,  orat.  the  ravage  amongst  ancient  writings.     The  de- 

Warburton.  struction  of  the  Alexandrine  and  Palatine  libra- 

^  Nor  is  it  Homer  nods,  but  we  that  dream."]  ries   hy  Jire;   the   fiercer   rage   of  Zoilus  and 

*  Modeste,  ac  circumspecto  judicio  de  tantis  viris  Maevius  and  their  followers  against  wit;  the  ir- 
pronunciandum  est,  ne  quod  (quod  plerisque  ruption  of  the  barbarians  into  the  empire;  and 
accidit)  damnent  quod  non  intelligunt.  Ac  si  the  long  reign  of  ignorance  and  superstition  in 
necesse  est  in  alteram  errare   partem,   omnia  the  cloisters.     Warburton. 


I 


^r^ 


ESSAY  ON-  CRITICISM,  57 

Glows  while  he  reads,  but  trembles  as  he  writes) 

To  teach  vain  Wits  a  science  little  known, 

T'  admire  superior  sense,  and  doubt  their  own!  200 

:3Ct 

Of  alLtke-Causes-which  conspire  to  blind 
Man's  erring  judgment,  and  misguide  the  mind, 
What  the  weak  head  with  strongest  bias  rules, 
\^_Pride^X^t  never-failing  voice  of  fools. 
Whatever  nature  has  in  worth  denied,  205 

She  gives  in  large  recruits  ^  of  needful  pride  ; 
For  as  in  bodies,  thus  in  souls,  we  find 
What  wants  in  blood  and  spirits,  swelPd  with  wind : 
Pride,  where  wit  fails,  steps  into  our  defence. 
And  fills  up  all  the  mighty  Void  of  sense.  210 

If  once  right  reason  drives  that  cloud  away, 
Truth  breaks  upon  us  with  resistless  day. 
Trust  not  yourself;  but  your  defects  to  know, 
Make  use  of  ev'ry  friend  —  and  ev'ry  foe. 

A  little  learning  is  a^danp^Vons  thiny;  -""^  ^^5 

Drink~deep. 'ftriasT^^  nr)t  ^he  Pierian  sarin^;^         C,\rpLH^ ^ 
There  shallow  draughts  intoxicate  the  brain, 2       «^r^^ 
And  drinking  largely  sobers  us  again.  /£j/7f  ^^ 

Fir'd  at  first  sight  with  what  the  Muse  imparts,  /^^^^iSi^^ 

In  fearless  youth  we  tempt  the  heights  of  Arts,  '   ^' J^B  ' 

While  from  the  bounded  level  of  our  mind  .'S  #  *-^.' 

Short  views  we  take,  nor  see  the  lengths  behind ; 
But  more  advanced,  behold  with  strange  surprise 
New  distant  scenes  of  endless  science  rise! 
So  pleas'd  at  first  the  tow'ring  Alps  we  try,  225 

Mount  o'er  the  vales,  and  seem  to  tread  the  sky, 
Th'  eternal  snows  appear  already  past, 
And  the  first  clouds  and  mountains  seem  the  last ; 
But,  those  attained,  we  tremble  to  survey 
The  growing  labours  of  the  lengthened  way,  230 

Th'  increasing  prospects  tires  our  wand'ring  eyes, 
Hills  peep  o'er  hills,  and  Alps  on  Alps  arise! 

A  perfect  Judge  will  read  each  word  of  Wit  ^    ,  ^ 

/ith  the  same  spirit  that  its  author  writ : 
Sjiii-vey  the  Whole,  nor  seek  slight  fauk^-ttr find  235 

Where  nature  moves,  and~~fapture  warms  the  mind ; 
Nor  lose,  for  that  malignan»t  dulT  delight, 


*  r^rr«/Vj]  ljre»-s«pplies.]  in  truth,  anything  more  than  very  superficial  ; 

2  There    shallow    draughts^    &c.]       The  and  every  human  being,  that  is  not  a  downright 

thought  was  taken  from  Lord  Verulam,  who  ap-  idiot,  must  taste. ^1 

plies  it  to  more  serious  inquiries.     Warburton.  '^  A  perfect  judge,  &c.]    *  Diligenter  legen- 

\Scc:  Advancement  of  L.  bk.  i.  {adjin.).     See  dum  est,  ac  paene  ad  scribendi  sollicitudinem: 

also  Whately's  annotation  to  Bacon's  Essay  Of  Nee  per  partes  modo  scrutanda  sunt  omnia,  sed 

Studies  ;  *  But  the  poet's  remedies  for  the  dan-  perlectus  liber  utique  ex  integro  resumendus.' 

gers  of  a  little  learning  are  both  of  them  impos-  Quintil.     Warburton. 
sible.     None  can  "  drink  deep  "  enough  to  be. 


58  ESSAY  ON-  CRITICISM. 

Vjhe  gen'rous  pleasure  to  be  charmM  with  Wit. 

But  in  such  lays  as  neither  ebb,  nor  flow, 

Correctly  cold,  and  regularly  low,  240 

^-       That  shunning  faults,  one  quiet  tenour  keep  , 

We  cannot  blame  indeed but  we  may  sleep. 

In  wit,  as  nature,  what  affects  our  hearts 

Is  not  th'  exactness  of  peculiar  parts  ;  - 
/  'T  is4iot-aJif^_Qr  eyej  we  beauty,  call^  245 

V  But  the  joijxt.  force  an^^Jaltresult  of  all. 

Thus  when  we  view  some  well-proportion'd  dome, 

(The  world's  just  wonder,^  and  ev'n  thine,  O  Rome!) 

No  single  parts  unequally  surprize. 

All  comes  united  to  th'  admiring  eyes ;  250 

No  monstrous  height,  or  breadth,  or  length  appear ; 

The  Whole  at  once  is  bold,  and  regular. 
Whoever  thinks  a  faultless_£iec(e_tojee, 

Thinks  what  ne'er  was,  nor  is,  nor  e'er^hall  be. 

In  every  work  regard^tTTe  "writer's  End,  255 

Since  none  can  compass  more  than  they  intend ; 

And  if  the  means  be  just,  the  conduct  true, 

Applause,  in  spight  of  trivial  faults,  is  due ; 

As  men  of  breeding,  sometimes  men  of  wit, 
/T'  avoid  great  errors,  must  the  less  commit :  260 

y^Neglect  the  rules  each  verbal  Critic  lays, 
y  For  not  to  know  some  trifles,  is  a  praise. 

Most  Critics,  fond  of  some  subservient  art, 
|.r^  Still  make  the  Whole  depend  upon  a  Part : 
'      They  talk  of  principles,  but  notions  prize,  265 

And  all  to  one  lov'd  Folly  sacrifice. 

Once  on  a  time.  La  Mancha's  Knight,^  they  say, 
f\  '^^         A  certain  bard  encount'ring  on  the  way, 
y]      vp^  Discours'd  in  terms  as  just,  with  looks  as  sage, 

jKj  As  e'er  could  Dennis  ^  of  the  Grecian  stage  ;  270 

"  Concluding  all  were  desp'rate  sots  and  fools, 

Who  durst  depart  from  Aristotle's  rules. 

Our  Author,  happy  in  a  judge  so  nice, 

Produc'd  his  Play,  and  begg'd  the  Knight's  advice ; 

Made  him  observe  the  sui^e^ct,  and  the  plot,  275 

The  manners,  passions,  unities  ;  what  not  ? 

All  which,  exact  to  rule,  vyere  brought  about. 

Were  but  a  Combat  ir*  the  lists  left  out. 

"What !  leave  the  Combat  out  ?"  exclaims  the  Knight; 

Yes,  or  we  must  renounce  the  Stagirite.  280 

"Not  so  by  Heav'n"  (he  answers  in  a  rage), 

"  Knights,  squires,  and  steeds,  must  enter  on  the  stage." 

^  The  Pantheon,  I  would  suppose;   perhaps  Fernandez  de  Avellanada,  and  afterwards  trans- 

St.  Peter's;  no  matter  which;  the  observation  is  lated,  or  rather  imitated  and  new-modelled,  by 

true  of  both.     Warburton.  no  less  an  author  than  the  celebrated  Le  Sage. 

2  The  incident  is  taken  from  the  Second  Part  Warton, 

of  Don  Quixote,  first  written  by  Don  Alonzo         ^  Dennis'],  see  hitrodtcctory  Memoir. 


ESSAV  ON  CRITICISM. 


59 


£i^- 


M^ 


So  vast  a  throng  the  stage  can  ne'er  contain. 
"  Then  build  a  new,  or  act  it  in  a  plain." 

Thus  Critics,  or  less  judgment  than  caprice, 
.Curious  not  knowing,  not  exact  but  nice, 
Form  short  Ideas  ;  and  offend  in  arts 
'     "i^A    ('^^  mostin  manners)  Jt2^_aiav£- to  parts. 
,  *^V>ju .   'A      iSome  to^X^^^^Jt^lone  their  taste  confine,  . 
""'^  *^-^V1i3  glitt'riiig  thoughts  struck  out  at  ev'ry  line ; 
Pleased  with  a^work  where'  nothing's  [ust  orfit ; 
One  glarmg  Chaos  and  wild  heap  of  witT    " 
Poets  like  painters,  thus,  unskilPd  to  trace    (7) 
The  naked  nature  and  the  living  grace. 
With  gold  and  jewels  cover  ev'ry  part, 
^And  hid^jwkh  oFflaments-thefr'Want  of  art.^ 
\fTntewit  is  Nature  to  advantage  dress'd. 

What  oft  was  thought,  but  rie'er  so  well  expressed ;  ^ 
Something,  whose  truth  convinced  at  sight  we  find, 
That  gives  us  back  the  image  of  our  mind. 
As  shades  more  sweetly  recommend  the  light. 
So  modest  plainness  sets  off  sprightly  wit. 
For  works  may  have  more -wit  than  does  'em  good, 
As  bodies  perish  thro'  excess  of  blood. 
^  Others  for  Language  all  their  care  express. 

And  value  books; ~as  women Jmen,  for  Dress: 
Their  praise  is  still,  —  the  Style  is  excellent : 
The  Sense,  they  humbly  take  upon  content. 

^nr^g  ^r^  lij^P  Inr'y^S  j    and  '^^^^^^  thf  Y  1?^*=^^  ahnnnH^ 

Mjirh  frnit  of  nrmci  hnnrnth  in  rr't-fjy  fr>|^inH^  "^ 

False  Eloquence,  like  the  prismatic  glass. 
Its  gaudy  colours  spreads  on  ev'ry  place ; 
The  face  of  Nature  we  no  more  survey. 
All  glares  alike,  without  distinction  gay  : 
But  true  expression,  like  th'  unchanging  Sun,     "( 
Clears  and  improves  whate'er  it  shines  upon,       \ 
It  gilds  all  objects,  but  it  alters  none.  J 

Expression  is  the  dress  of  thought,  and  still 
Appears  more  decent,  as  more  suitable ; 
A  vile  conceit  in  pompousj^r^^express'd, 
i^^ike^a  down  m  regaTpurple  dress'd  : 
/For  diff'rent  styles  with  diff'rent  subjects  sort, 
/    As  several  garbs  with  country,  town,  and  court. 

Some  by  old  words  to  fame  have  made  pretence,^ 
\ 

^  [This  class  of  poets  and  style  of  poetry  have 
probably  never  been  so  well  illustrated  and  ex- 
posed, as,  in  the  case  of  the  English  Fantastic 
school,  by  Dr.  Johnson  in  his  life  of  Cowley.] 

2  [  Warburton  commends,  while  Johnson  with 
much  success  impugns,  this  definition.  The  term 
ivity  as  observed  above,  is  very  loosely  and  va- 
riously applied  in  chis  poem.] 


285 


290 


295 


300 


I 


310 


315 


320 


['  Humour  is  all ;  wit  should  be  only  brought 

To  turn  agreeably  some  proper  thought.' 

Buckingham's  Essay  on  Poetry.^ 

^  Some  by  old  words ^  &c.]    *  Abolita  et  abro- 

gata  retinere,  insolentiae  cujusdam  est,  et  frivolae 

in  parvis  jactantiae.'     Quintil.  lib.  i.  cap.  6.     P. 

*  Opus  est  ut  verba  a  vetustate  repetita  neque 

crebra  sint,  neque  manifesta,  quia  nil  est  odio- 


6o 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM, 


325 


330 


Ancients  in  phrase,  mere  moderns  in  their  sense ; 

Such  labour^  nothings,  in  so  strange  a  style, 

Amaze  th'  unlearn'd,  and  make  the  learned  smile. 

Unlucky,  as  Fungoso  in  the  play,^ 

These  sparks  with  awkward  vanity  display 

What  the  fine  gentleman  wore  yesterday ; 

And  but  so  mimic  ancient  wits  at  best. 

As  apes  our  grandsires,  in  their  doublets  drest. 

In  words,  as  fashions,  the  same  rule  will  hold ; 

Alike  Jantastic,  if  too  new,  or  old  : 

Be  not  the  first  by  whom  the  new  are  try'd, 

or  yet  the  last  to  lay  the  old  aside. 
!1  But  most  by  Numbers  judge  a  Poet's  song ;  2  ^ 

And  smooth  oFrough,  with  them  is  right  or  wrong (^^^,^/^v/  |/^ 
In  the  bright  Muse  though  thousand  charms  conspire,  j/^ 

Her  voice  is  all  these  tuneful  fools  admire ;  /^-'^^^^^< 

Who  haunt  Parnassus  but  to  please  their  ear. 
Not  mend  their  minds  ;  as  some  to  Church  repair, 
\  Not  for  the  doctrine,  but  the  music  there. 
^^These  equal  syllables  alone  require. 


^ 


-  ;33S  \ 


^/f  Tno'  oft  the  ear  the  ojDen  vowels  tire ;  ^ 
^^h     While  expletives  their  feeble  aid  do  join 
>l5^  And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line : 


A^ 


^While  they  ring  round  the  same  unvaryM  chimes, 
With  sure  returns  of  still  expected  rhymes  ;  /    ^^^ 

Where-e'er  you  find  "  the  cooling  western  breezei^'>'^^ 
In  the  next  line,  it  "  whispers  through  the  trees  •  "   ^  / 
If  crystal  streams  ''  with  pleasing  murmurs  creep,"Xj/l 
'"  The  reader's  threatened  (not  in  vain)  with  *^  sleep :  "^ 
Then,  at  the  last  and  only  couplet  fraught 
With  some  unmeaning  thing  they  call  a  thought, 
A  needless  Alexandrine  ends  the  song  ^  /lA-^  ^v^  Z^- 

sius  affectatione,  nee  utique  ab  ultimis  repetita 
temporibus.  Oratio  cujus  summa  virtus  est 
perspicuitas,  quam  sit  vitiosa,  si  egeat  inter- 
prete  ?  Ergo  ut  novorum  optima  erunt  maxime 
Vetera,  ita  veterum  maxime  nova.'  Ide^n.  P. 
*  Unlucky  as  Fungoso,  &c.]  See  Ben  Jon- 
son's  Every  Man  in  his  Humour.  P.  [But 
the  reference  is  really  to  Every  Man  out  of  his 
Htimour,  where  Fungoso  endeavours  to  trans- 
late himself  into  the  likeness  of  Fastidious 
Brisk.] 

2  Btd  most  by  Numbers^  &c.] 
*Quis   populi  sermo  est?   quis  enim?   nisi  car- 
mine molli 

Nunc  demum  numero  fluere,  ut  per  Iseve  severos 
Effundat  junctura  ungues:  scit  tendere  versum 
Non  secus  ac  si  oculo  rubricam  dirigat  uno.' 

.   Pers.  Sat.  i.     P. 

3  Though  oft  the  ear,  &c.]  '  Fugiemus  cre- 
bras  vocalium  concursiones,  quae  vastam  atque 


■"5^ 


hiantem  orationem  reddunt.    Cic.  ad  H^en.j 
lib.  iv.     Vide  etiam,  Quintil.  lib.  ix.  c.  4.     P.  ^f^ 

*  While  expletives  their  feeble  aid  do  join,  d 
And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dun 
line.] 
From  Dryden.  **  He  creeps  along  with  ten 
little  words  in  every  line,  and  helps  out  his 
numbers  with  [for]  [to]  and  [unto]  and  all  the 
pretty  expletives  he  can  find,  while  the  sense 
is  left  half  tired  behind  it."  Essay  on  Dra- 
matic Poetry.     War  bur  ton. 

[The  beauty  of  Waller's  versification,  as  Dr. 
Johnson  has  pointed  out,  is  impaired  by  the 
very  frequent  use  of  the  expletive  do.] 

s  [It  has  been  pointed  out  that  Pope's  Mes- 
siah is  open  to  the  objection  of  the  introduction 
of  Alexandrines,  at  the  close  of  the  poem  and 
elsewhere.  His  later  poems  contain  very  few 
Alexandrines.  Dr.  Johnson  believes  that '  Cow- 
ley was  the  first  poet  that  mingled  Alexandrines 


a/f^ 


\ 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM.  K^V'   \    6' 

Xhatjike  a  wqunii£d.§nake,  drags  it^slow  length  along*-  V    "^ 
Leavesuch  to  tune  their  own  dull  rhymes,  and  know 
What 's  roundly  smooth  or  languishingly  slow ; 
And  praise  the  easy  vigour  of  a  line, 
Where  Denham's  strength,  and  Waller^s  sweetness  join.^ 
True  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art,  not  chance, 
^As  those  move  easiest  who  have  learn'd  to  dance. 


"p^^zV 


'T  is  not  enough  no  harshness  gives  offence,  ,.  ^^^ 
^V<rhe  sound  must  seem  an  Krho  to  ^^hp  gpjn<;p  :  2  JyJ^v  ' 
j      Soft  is  the  strain  when  Zephyr  gently  blows,^  ^!r^ 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows ; 

But  when  loud  surges  lasTi  the  sounding  shore,* 

The  hoarse,  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar: 

When  Ajax  sfrives'some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw,^  370 

The  line  too  labours,  and  the  words  move  slow ; 

"  'ot  so,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain,^ 
lies  o'er  th'  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

Hear  how  Timotheus'  varied  lays  surprize,^ 
^And  bid  alternate  passions  fall  and  rise !  375 

While,  at  each  change,  the  son  of  Libyan  Jove 

Now  burns  with  glory,  and  then  melts  with  love, 

Now  his  fierce  eyes  with  sparkling  fury  glow, 

Now  sighs  steal  out,  and  tears  begin  to  flow : 

Persians  and  Greeks  like  turns  of  nature  found,  380 

And  the  world's  victor  stood  subdu'd  by  Sound! 

The  pow'r  of  Music  all  our  hearts  allow,  .    \ 

And  what  Timotheus  was,  is  Dryden  now.^^ J   ) 


at  pleasure  with  the  common  heroic  of  ten  syl- 
lables; and  from  him  Dryden  borrowed  the 
practice,  whether  ornamental  or  licentious.'] 

1  [The  master-pieces  of  these  two  poets  are 
similarly  linked  in  Buckingham's  Essay  on 
Poetry: 

'  But  not  an  Elegy,  nor  writ  with  skill, 
No  Panegyricky  nor  a  Cooper's  Htll.^l 

2  The  sound  must  seem  an  Echo  to  the 

sensed 
Lord  Roscommon  says, 

The  sound  is  still  a  comment  to  the  sense. 
They  are  both  well  expressed:  only  this  sup- 
poses the  sense  to  be  assisted  by  the  sound ;  that, 
the  sound  assisted  by  the  sense.     Warburton. 
'  Soft  is  the  strain,  &c.] 

*  Tum  si  laeta  canunt,'  &c. 

Vida  Poet.  lib.  iii.  v.  403. 
*  But  when  loud  surges,  &c.] 

*  Tum  longe  sale  saxa  sonant,'  &c. 

Vida  ib.  838. 

^  When  Ajax  strives,  &c.] 

*  Atque  ideo  si  quid  geritur  molimine  magno,'  &c. 

Vida  ib.  417. 

^  Not  so,  when  swift  Camilla,  &c.]  • 


*  At  mora  si  fuerit  damno,  properare  jubebo,'  &c. 

Vida  ib.  420. 

[Pope's  lines  are  slightly  altered  from  Dry- 
den's  version  of  the  Mneid,  vii.  808  ff.] 

'^  Hear  how  Timotheus,  &c.]  See  Alexan- 
der's Feast,  or  the  Power  of  Music;  an  Ode  by 
Mr.  Dryden.  P.  ['  What  Timotheus  was '  Pope 
had  hardly  ascertained  from  a  study  of  his  Frag- 
ments. Timotheus  the  dithyrambic  poet  of 
Miletus  really  died  three  years  before  the  birth 
of  Alexander,  in  359.] 

*  [Pope  was  from  his  earliest  youth  a  con- 
stant reader  and  ardent  admirer  of  Dryden,  He 
used  to  say,  that  Dryden  had  improved  the  art 
of  versification  beyond  any  of  the  preceding 
poets,  and  that  he  would  have  been  perfect  in  it, 
had  he  not  been  so  often  obliged  to  write  with 
precipitation.  Pope  was  introduced  to  Dryden, 
but  the  latter  died  before  any  intimacy  could  take 
place  between  them.  See  Ruflfhead's  Life  of 
Pope,  22,  3.  Johnson,  commenting  on  Voltaire's 
comparison  between  Dryden  and  Pope,  said,  that 

*  they  both  drive  coaches  and  six;  but  Dryden's 
horses  are  either  galloping  or  stumbling:  Pope's  - 
go  at  a  steady  even  trot.'  Boswell/*d?  ann.  1766.] 


{■ 


/^ 


62  ESSAV  ON  CRITICISM. 

Avoid  Extremes^^  and  shun  thejaiilt^i  sucli, 
Who^  still  are  pleasM  too  little  or  ^510  mngh,  385 

At  eVry  trifle  scorn  to  take  offence, 
'^  That  always  shows  great  pride,  or  little  sense ; 

/  f ^  f^l  Those  heads,  as  stomachs,  are  not  sure  the  best, 
^     '       •  '      Which  nauseate  all,  and  nothing  can  digest. 
I  Yet  let  not  each  gay  Turn  thy  rapture  move ;  390 

For  fools  admire,^  but  men  of  sense  approve  : 
As  things  seem  large  which  we  thro'  mists  descry, 
Dulness  is  ever  apt  to  magnify. 

Some  foreign  writers,  some  our  own  despise ; 
The  Ancients  only,  or  the  Moderns  prize.  395 

Thus  Wit,  like  Faith,  by  each  man  is  apply'd 
To  one  small  sect,  and  all  are  damnM  beside. 
Meanly  they  seek  the  blessing  to  confine, 
^  ^   ,  And  force  that  sun  but  on  a  part  to  shine, 

'^  ^y  Which  not  alone  the  southern  wit  sublimes,  400 

^  But  ripens  spirits  in  cold  northern  climes ; 

Which  from  the  first  has  shone  on  ages  past, 
Enlights  the  present,  and  shall  warm  the  last ; 
Tho'  each  may  feel  increases  and  decays, 

And  see  now  clearer  and  now  darker  days.  405 

Regard  not  then  if  Wit  be  old  or  new. 
But  blame  the  false,  and  value  still  the  true. 
;'  Some  ne'er  advance  a  Judgment  of  their  own, 

fj  But  catch  the  spreading  notion  of  the  Town  ; 

/■  They  reason  and  conclude  by  precedent,  410 

And  own  stale  nonsense  which  they  ne'er  invent. 
Some  judge  of  author's  names,  not  works,  and  then 
^  t  Nor  praise  nor  blame  the  writings,  but  the  men. 

*^  —--Of  all  this  servile  herd  the  worst  is  he 

That  in  proud  dulness  joins  with  Quality.  415 

^    A  constant  Critic  at  the  great  man's  board, 
To  fetch  and  carry  nonsense  for  my  Lord. 
What  woful  stuff  this  madrigal  would  be. 
In  some  starv'd  hackney  sonneteer,  or  me?  —    ^ ^ 
But  let  a  Lord  once  own  the  happy  lines,  420 

How  the  wit  brightens!  how  the  style  refines! 
Before  his  sacred  name  flies  ev'ry  fault. 
And  each  exalted  stanza  teems  with  thought! 
JTheJVulgar  thus  through  Imitation  err; 
/'    AsofrnieT;earirdl3yT)eihg~sThgular;  425 

So  much  they  S'cornthe"  crowd,  that  if  the  throng 
By  chajice  go  right,  they  purposely  go  wrong ; 
'V  -  So  Schismatics  the  plain  believers  quit. 

And  are  but  damn'd  for  having  too  much  wit. 

Some  praise  at  morning  what  they  blame  at  night ;  430 

*  [It  need  hardly  be  pointed  out  that  the  '  nil  admirari '  desiderated  by  Horace  includes  moral 
self-restraint  as  well  as  intellectual  equanimity.]    • 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM. 


63 


But  always  think  the  last  opinion  right. 
A  Muse  by  these  is  like  a  mistress  us'd, 
This  hour  she 's  idolized,  the  next  abus'd ; 
£^  While  their  weak  heads  like  towns  unfortify'd, 
'  Twixt  sense  and  nonsense  daily  change  their  side. 
Ask  them  the  cause  ;  they  're  wiser  still,  they  say ; 
And  still  to-morrow  's  wiser  than  to-day. 
We  think  our  fathers  fools^soja^ise  we  grow, 
Our-wisersons,  Tio  don'bfpwillthink  us  so.  , 
Once  School-divines  this~zgaiuus  isle  o'er-spread ; 
Who  knew  most  Sentences,  was  deepest  read ;  ^ 
Faith,  Gospel,  all,  seem'd  made  to  be  disputedj^j, 
And  none  had  sense  enough  to  be  confuted :    / 
Scotists  and  Thomists,  now,  in  peace  remain,^ 
Amidst  their  kindred  cobwebs  in  Duck-lane.^ 
If  Faith  itself  has  diff'rent  dresses  worn. 
What  wonder  modes  in  Wit  should  take  their  turn? 
Oft',  leaving  what  is  natural  and  fit. 
The  current  folly  proves  the  ready  wit ; 
And  authors  think  their  reputation  safe. 
Which  lives  as  long  as  fools  are  pleas'd  to  laugh. 
Some  valuing  those  of  their  own  side  or  mind,' 

Still  make  themselves  the  measure  of  mankind :   __,-.- -^ 

Fondly  we  think  we  honour  merit  then,        /7    Z^a/^ 

When  we  but  praise  ourselves  in  other  m^u.y^r'^^'-^^    W! 

Parties  in  Wit  attend  on  those  of  State,  i  ^^ 

And  public  faction  doubles  private  hate.  n    h 

Pride,  Malice,  Folly,  against  Dryden  rose. 

In  various  shapes  of  Parsons,  Critics,  Beaus ;  * 

But  sense  suDdiL!dj_jwhenjneiTyJests  were  past ;  460 

or  rising  merit  will  buoy  up  atlastr  ■ --^"' 

Might  he  return,  and  bless  once  more  our  eyes. 
New  Blackmores^  and  new  Milbourns  ^  must  arise : 


435 


440 


445 


450 


*  Sentences']  [i.e.  passages  from  the  Fathers. 
Peter  Lombard  who  made  a  collection  of  these 
which  was  to  settle  all  disputed  doctrines,  hence 
received  thrf  name  of  *  the  Master  of  the  Sen- 
tences.']        T 

2  [*  The  greatest  of  the  schoolmen  were  the 
Dominican  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  the  Franciscan 
Duns  Scotus.  They  were  founders  of  rival  sects 
which  wrangled  with  each  other  for  two  or  three 
centuries.  But  the  authority  of  their  writings, 
which  were  incredibly  voluminous,  impeded  in 
some  measure  the  growth  of  new  men.'  Hallam, 
whose  account  of  the  schoolmen  (so  severely 
judged  by  Bacon  in  the  Novum  Organon)  will 
be  found  in  the  first  chapter  of  his  Introd.  to  the 
Liter,  of  Eur. 

John  Duns   Scotus   taught    at  Oxford    and 

^  Milbourn'].    The  Rev.  Mr.  Luke  Milbourn. 


Paris,  and  died  at  Cologne  in  1308;  Thomas 
Aquinas  was  born  at  Rocca  Sicca  1227,  died 
1274,  and  was  canonized  1323.] 

3  Duck-lane~\ .  A  place  where  old  and  second- 
hand books  were  sold  formerly,  near  Smithfield. 
P. 

*  The  parson  alluded  to  was  Jeremy  Collier 
[the  author  of /i  Short  View  &c.  of  the  English 
Stage] ;  the  critic  [and  beau]  was  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  [the  author  of  the  Rehearsal.] 

War  ton. 

5  [Sir  Richard  Blackmore  (born  about  1652, 
died  1729)  the  author  of  a  philosophical  poem 
called  The  Creation,  attacked  the  dramatic 
authors  generally  in  the  preface  to  his  poem  of 
Prince  Arthur,  and  Dryden  individually  in  A 
Satire  on  Wit.     He  is  the  Quack  Maurus  of 

See  Pope's  note  to  Dunciad,  bk.  i.  ver.  349. 


64  ESSAY  OAT  CRITICISM. 

Nay  should  great  Homer  lift  his  awful  head, 
Zoilus  again  would  start  up  from  the  dead.  465 

Envy  will  merit,  as  its  shade,  pursue ; 
But  like  a  shadow,  proves  the  substance  true ; 
For  envyM  Wit,  like  Sol  eclips'd,  makes  known 
Th'  opposing  body  's  grossness,  not  its  own, 
When  first  that  sun  too  powVful  beams  displays,  470 

It  draws  up  vapours  which  obscure  its  rays ; 
'  But  ev'n  those  clouds  at  last  adorn  its  way. 
Reflect  new  glories,  and  augment  the  day. 

Be  thou  the  first  true  merit  to  befriend ; 
His  praise  is  lost,  who  stays,  till  all  commend.  475 

Short  is  the  date,  alas,  of  modern  rhymes, 
And  't  is  but  just  to  let  them  live  betimes. 
No  longer  now  that  golden  age  appears. 
When  Patriarch-wits  survivM  a  thousand  years : 
.  i/' "^       Now  length  of  Fame  (our  second  life)  is  lost,  480 

.  ^.J  And  bare  threescore  is  all  ev'n  that  can  boast ; 

Our  sons  their  fathers'  failing  language  see, 
And  such  as  Chaucer  is,  shall  Dryden  be. 
So  when  the  faithful  pencil  has  designM 

Some  bright  Idea  of  the  master's  mind,  485 

Where  a  new  world  leaps  out  at  his  command. 
And  ready  Nature  waits  upon  his  hand ; 
When  the  ripe  colours  soften  and  unite. 
And  sweetly  melt  into  just  shade  and  light ; 
When  mellowing  years  their  full  perfection  give,  490 

And  each  bold  figure  just  begins  to  live. 
The  treacherous  colours  the  fair  art  betray, 
And  all  the  bright  creation  fades  away! 

Unhappy  Wit,  like  most  mistaken  things, 
Atones  not  for  that  envy  which  it  brings.  495 

In  youth  alone  its  empty  praise  we  boast, 
But  soon  the  short-liv'd  vanity  is  lost : 
Like  some  fair  flow'r  the  early  spring  supplies. 
That  gaily  blooms,  but  ev'n  in  blooming  dies. 
What  is  this  Wit,  which  must  our  cares  employ?     A  500 

The  owner's  wife,  that  other  men  enjoy ; 
Then  most  our  trouble  still  when  most  admir'd, 
/    And  still  the  more  we  give,  the  more  requir'd ; 
^      Whose  fame  with  pains  we  guard,  but  lose  with  ease. 

Sure  some  to  vex,  but  never  all  to  please  ;  505 

'T  is  what  the  vicious  fear,  the  virtuous  shun. 
By  fools  't  is  hated,  and  by  knaves  undone! 

If  Wit  so  much  from  Ign'rance  undergo, 
Ah  let  not  Learning  too  commence  its  foe! 

Dryden's  Prologue  to  The  Secular  Masqtte;  small;  and  lived  to  be  saluted  by  Dennis  as  the 

and  is  referred  to  by  Swift  as  one  of  the  few  who  author  of  a  poem  equal  to  that  of  Lucretius  in 

*  have  reach'd  the  low  sublune.^     But  he  '  beat  poetical  beauty  and  superior  to  it  in  argumenta- 

his  painful  way '  in  spite  of  critics  great  and  tive  strength.] 


ESSAV  OAT  CRITICISM.  65 

Of  old,  those  met  rewards  who  could  excel,  510 

And  such  were  praisM  who  but  endeavoured  well : 

Tho'  triumphs  were  to  genVals  only  due. 

Crowns  were  reserv'd  to  grace  the  soldiers  too. 
/^ow,  they  who  reach  Parnassus'  lofty  crown, 
\    Employ  their  pains  to  spurn  some  others  down;  515 

J   And  while  self-love  each  jealous  writer  rules, 
i>5^    \    Contending  wits  become  the  sport  of  fools  : 

/    But  still  the  worst  with  most  regret  commend, 
VFor  each  ill  Author  is  as  bad  a  Friend. 

To  what  base  ends,  and  by  what  abject  ways,  520 

Are  mortals  urg'd  thro'  sacred  lust  of  praise ! 

Ah  ne'er  so  dire  a  thirst  of  glory  boast, 

Nor  in  the  Critic  let  the  Man  be  lost. 

Good-nature  and  good-sense  must  ever  join ;  ^ 

To  err  is  human,  to  forgive,  divine^:     .     '""  525 

But  if  in  noble  minds  some  dregs  remain 

Not  yet  purg'd  oif,  of.  spleen  and  sour  disdain ; 

Discharge  that  rage  on  more  prpvoking  crimes, 

Nor  fear  a  deajrth  in  these  flagitious  times. 

No  pardon  vile  Obscenity  should  find,  530 

J"ho'  wit  and  art  conspire  tomovejwirmind^ 


Sprung  the  rank  weed,  and  thriv'd  with  large  increase :         535 

When  love  was  all  an  easy  Monarch's  care ; 

Seldom  at  council,  never  in  a  war : 

Jilts  rul'd  the  state,  and  statesmen  farces  writ ; 

Nay  wits  had  pensions,  and  young  Lords  had  wit :  ^ 

The  Fair  sate  panting  at  a  Courtier's  play,  540 

And  not  a  Mask  went  unimprov'd  away :  ^ 
•     The  modest  fan  was  lifted  up  no  more. 

And  Virgins  smil'd  at  what  they  blush'd  before. 
\     The  following  licence  of  a  Foreign  reign  ^ 
1     Did  all  the  dregs  of  bold  Socinus  drain ;  545 

i^_J  Then  unbelieving  priests  reform'd  the  nation,  ^ 

1  [The  principal  *  wits  to  be  found  *mongst  *  Alluding  to  the  custom  in  that  age  of  ladies 

noblemen  *  and  men  of  fashion  in  the  reign  of  going  in  masks  to  the  play.     Bowles. 

Charles  II.  were,  besides  the  duke  of  Bucking-  ^  [Qf  William   III.,  Tutchin's  *  Foreigner.'] 

ham,  the  earl  of  Rochester,  the  earl  of  Roscom-  Yo^&,  for  obvious  reasons-,  seems  to  forget  there 

mon,  the  earl  of  Dorset,  the  marquis  of  Halifax,  was  such  a  King  as  James  II.     Bowles. 

Lord  Godolphin  and  Sir  Charles  Sedley.  Though  *  The   author  has  omitted   two  lines  which 

Dryden  was  laureate  under  Charles  II.,  he  was  stood  here,  as  containing  a  national  reflection, 

long  left  in  indigence  by  the  king,  and,  in  laying  which  in  his  stricter  judgment  he  could  not  but 

his    case  before    the   government,  bitterly    ex-  disapprove  on  any  people  whatever.     P. 

claimed  '  'Tis  enough  for  one  age  to  have  neg-  ^  [viz.  the  *  Latitudinarian '  divines  of   the 

lected  Mr.  Cowley,  and  starved  Mr.  Butler.'  Low  Church  party,  of  whom  bishop  Burnet  was 

See  R.  Bell's  Life  of  John  Dryden  in  Poetical  the  most  prominent.] 
Works,  I.  53,  ff.] 
F 


66  ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM. 

And  taught  more  pleasant  methods  of  salvation ; 
'  Where  Heav'n's  free  subjects  might  their  rights  dispute, 

Lest  God  himself  should  seem  too  absolute  : 

Pulpits  their  sacred  satire  learned  to  spare,  550 

And  Vice  admir'd  to  find  a  flattVer  there ! 

Encouraged  thus,  Wit's  Titans  brav'd  the  skies,  -^ 

And  the  press  groaned  with  licens'd  blasphemies.  0^^^ 

These  monsters,  Critics  !  with  your  darts  engage, 

Here  point  your  thunder,  and  exhaust  your  rage  !  555 

Yet  shun  their  fault,  who,  scandalously  nice, 
.   Will  needs  mistake  an  author  into  vice ; 

All  seems  infected  that  th'infected  spy. 

As  all  looks  yellow  to  the  jaundicM  eye. 

TIC- 

Learn  then  what  Morals  Critics  ought  to  show, 
For  ^  is  but  half  a  Judge's  task,  to  know. 
'T  is  not  enough,  taste,  judgment,  learning,  join ; 
In  all  you  speak,  let  truth  and  candour  shine : 
That  not  alone  what  to  your  sense  is  due 
All  may  allow  ;  but  seek  your  friendship  too.  565 


O     Be  silent  always  when  you  doubt  your  sense ; 
---^  ?   And  speak,  tho'  sure,  with  seeming  diffic' 
^  ^  ISome  positive,  persisting  fops  we  know. 


560 


Who,  if  once  wrong,  will  needs  be  always  so ; 

But  you,  with  pleasure  own  your  errors  past,  570 

And  make  each  day  a  Critic  on  the  last. 

'T  is  not  enough,  your  counsel  still  be  true ; 
Blunt  truths  more  mischief  than  nice  falsehoods  do ; 
Men  must  be  taught  as  if  you  taught  them  not, 
And  things  unknown  propos'd  as  things  forgot.  575 

Without  Good  Breeding,  truth  is  disapproved; 
That  only  makes  superior  sense  belov'd. 

Be  niggards  of  advice  on  no  pretence ; 
For  the  worst  avarice  is  tha|;  of  sense. 

With  mean  compIa(:!ence  ne^ei*  betray  your  trust,  580 

Nor  be  so  civil  as  to  prove  unjust. 
Fear  not  the  anger  of  the  wise  to  raise ; 
Those  best  can  bear  reproof,  who  merit  praise. 

'T  were  well  might  critics  still  this  freedom  take. 
But  Appius  reddens  at  each  word  you  speak,  585 

And  stares,  tremendous,  with  a  threatening  eye,^ 

1  And  stares,  tremendous,  &c.]  This  picture  name  of  Appius  in  consequence  of  his  tragedy  of 

was  taken  to  himself  by  John  Dennis,  a  furious  Appius  and  Virginia  which  was  damned   in 

old  critic  by   profession,  who,  upon   no  other  1709.     The  thunder  employed  in  it  being  both 

provocation,  wrote  against   this  essay   and   its  good  and  expensive  was  to  the  author's  indigna- 

author,  in  a  manner  perfectly  lunatic:  for,  as  to  tion  '  stolen'  for  the  representation  of  Macbeth. 

the  mention  made  of  him  in  v.  270,  he  took  it  See  Dibdin's  History  of  the  Stage,  iv.  357.     He 

as  a  compliment,  and  said  it  was  treacherously  is  the  *  Sir  Tremendous '  of  Pope  and  Gay*s 

meant  to  cause  him  to  overlook  this  abuse  of  farce,  Three  Hours  after  Marriage.^ 
his  person.    P.     [Dennis  is  alluded  to  by  the 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM.  67 

Like  some  fierce  Tyrant  in  old  tapestry. 

Fear  most  to  tax  an  Honourable  fool, 

Whose  right  it  is,  uncensur'd,  to  be  dull ; 

Such,  without  wit,  are  Poets  when  they  please,  590 

As  without  learning  they  can  take  Degrees. ^ 

Leave  dangerous  truths  to  unsuccessful  Satires, 

And  flattery  to  fulsome  Dedicators,^ 

Whom,  when  they  praise,  the  world  believes  no  more. 

Than  when  they  promise  to  give  scribbling  o'er.  595 

'T  is  best  sometimes  your  censure  to  restrain, 

And  charitably  let  tlie  dull  be  vain: 

Your  silence  there  is  better  than  your  spite. 

For  who  can  rail  so  long  as  they  can  write? 

Still  humming  on,  thgi|;^^rowsy  course  they  keep,  600 

And  lash'd  so  long,  like  tops,  are  lash'd  asleep. 

False  steps  but  help  them  to  renew  the  race,         ^ 

As,  after  stumbling,  Jades  will  mend  their  pace. 

What  crowds  of  these,  impenitently  bold. 

In  sounds  and  jingling  syllables  grown  old,  605 

Still  run  on  Poets,  in  a  raging  vein, 

Ev'n  to  the  dregs  and  squeezings  of  the  brain. 

Strain  out  the  last  dull  droppings  of  their  sense, 

And  rhyme  with  all  the  rage  of  Impotence. 

Such  shameless  Bards  we  have  ;  and  yet  't  is  true,  610 

There  are  as  mad  abandoned  Critics  too. 
The  bookful  blockhead,  ignorantly  read. 
With  loads  of  learned  lumber  in  his  head. 
With  his  own  tongue  still  edifies  his  ears. 
And  always  hst'ning  to  himself  appears.  615 

All  books  he  reads,  and  all  he  reads  assails. 
From  Dryden's  Fables  down  to  Durfey's  Tales. ^ 
With  him,  most  authors  steal  their  works,  or  buy ; 
Garth  did  not  write  his  own  Dispensary.^ 

"^  As  without  learning  they  can  take  De-  infamy  chiefly  rests.     These  versified  stories, 

grees.'\      [Referring   to   a  barbarous   privilege  partly  *  comick '  and  partly  *  moral,'  abound  in 

of  which  the  relics  still  remain  at  our  ancient  every  description  of  offence  against  the  laws  of 

Universities.]  taste,  grammar,  and  rhyme,  but  are  otherwise 

2  [See  on  this  subject  Bacon's  maxims  (con-  comparatively  harmless.] 

tradicted  by  his  practice)  in  the  first  book  of  the         *  Garth  did  not  write,  &c.]      A    common 

Advancement  of  L.'\  slander  at  that  time  in  prejudice  of  that  deserv- 

3  [Durfey  or  D'Urfey ;  a  writer  in  whom  the  ing  author.  Our  poet  did  him  this  justice,  when 
art  of  versification  probably  reached  its  nadir;  that  slander  most  prevailed;  and  it  is  now  (per- 
one  of  those  poets  who  in  Pope's  times  usually  haps  the  sooner  for  this  very  verse)  dead  and 
attached    themselves    to   the   chariot-wheels   of  forgotten.     P. 

some  noble  patron,  and  in  our  own  are  occa-  [So  Johnson  was  publicly  reported  to  be  the 

sionally  provided  for  out  of  the  Royal  Bounty  author  of  a   considerable   part  of  Goldsmith's 

Fund.      Durfey's  Maecenas  was  that  Wharton  7^ra?7(?//i?r,  of  which  he  wrote  exactly  nine  lines, 

to  whom  according  to  Pope  the  attachment  of  and  Goethe  of  a  considerable  part  of  Schiller's 

women  and  fools  was  a  condition  of  existence.  Catnp  of  Wallenstein,  of  which  he  wrote  two 

Besides  a  sequel  in  5  acts  to  the  Rehearsal  and  lines.     But  the  crowning  discovery  of  this  class, 

some  '  original  *  dramas,  elegies,  and  panegyrical  that  Shakspere  did  not  write  his  own  plays,  has 

pieces,  D.  wrote  the  Tales  on  which  his  literary  been  reserved  for  the  present  generation.] 


68  ESSAY  ON-  CRITICISM. 

Name  a  new  Play,  and  he  's  the  Poet's  friend,  620 

Nay,  show'd  his  faults  —  but  when  would  Poets  mend  ? 

,  ^  No  place  so  sacred  from  such  fops  is  barr'd, 
/^j  Nor  is  PauPs  church  more  safe  than  PauPs  churchyard :  ^ 
I-        f!  Nay,  fly  to  altars  ;  there  they  '11  talk  you  dead  : 

For  Fools  rush  in  where  Angels  fear  to  tread. ^  625 

Distrustful  sense  with  modest  caution  speaks, 
It  still  looks  home,  and  short  excursions  makes ; 
But  rattUng  nonsense  in  full  volleys  breaks. 
And  never  shock'd,  and  never  turn'd  aside. 
Bursts  out,  resistless,  with  a  thund'ring  tide.  630 

,     But  where 's  the  man,  who  counsel  can  bestow, 
/Still  pleas'd  to  teach,  and  yet  not  proud  to  know  ? 
Unbiassed,  or  by  favour,  or  by  spite ; 
I  Not  dully  prepossess'd,  nor  blindly  right ; 

J  Tho'  learn'd,  well-bred ;  and  tho'  well-bred,  sincere,  635 

^  \  Modestly  bold,  and  humanly  severe  : 

y\  Who  to  a  friend  his  faults  can  freely  show, 

y  I  And  gladly  praise  the  merit  of  a  foe  ? 

I    Blest  with  a  taste  exact,  yet  unconfin'd  ; 

j    A  knowledge  both  of  books  and  human  kind :  640 

\    Gen'rous  converse  ;  a  soul  exempt  from  pride ; 
And  love  to  praise,  with  reason  on  his  side  ? 

Such  once  were  Critics ;  such  the  happy  few, 
Athens  and  Rome  in  better  ages  knew. 

The  mighty  Stagirite  first  left  the  shore,  645 

Spread  all  his  sails,  and  durst  the  deeps  explore : 
He  steer'd  securely,  and  discover'd  far. 
Led  by  the  light  of  the  Maeonian  Star. 
Poets,  a  race  long  unconfin'd,  and  free. 

Still  fond  and  proud  of  savage  liberty,  650 

Receiv'd  his  laws  ;  and  stood  convinc'd  'twas  fit,^ 
Who  conquer'd  JNJatur^,  should  preside  o'er  Wit. 

Horace  still  charms  with  graceful  negligence, 
And  without  method  talks  us  into  sense, 

Will,  like  a  friend,  familiarly  convey  655 

The  truest  notions  in  the  easiest  way. 
He,  who  supreme  in  judgment,  as  in  wit, 
Might  boldly  censure,  as  he  boldly  writ. 
Yet  judg'd  with  coolness,  tho'  he  sung  with  fire ; 
His  Precepts  teach  but  what  his  works  inspire.  660 

Our  Critics  take  a  contrary  extreme. 
They  judge  with  fury,  but  they  write  with  fle'me : 
Nor  suffers  Horace  more  in  wrong  Translations 
By  Wits,  than  Critics  in  as  wrong  Quotations. 

^  [Before    the    Fire  of    London,    St.    Paul's  male  atheist  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by 

Churchyard  was  the  headquarters  of  the  book-  the  lines  in  the  Essay  ] 
sellers,  who  have  never  wholly  deserted  it.]  As  to  Garth  v.  ante,  note  to  p.  17. 

2  [Compare  the  noble  passage  in  the  Dunciad         ^  [In  his  Natural  History  and  in  his  Poetics 

III.  213  fT.      Johnson's  famous  line  about  the  fe-  respectively.] 


ESSAY  ON-  CRITICISM.  69 

See  Dionysius  Homer's  thoughts  refine,^  665 

And  call  new  beauties  forth  from  evVy  line ! 

Fancy  and  art  in  gay  Petronius  please,^ 
The  scholar's  learning,  witTi  the  courtier's  ease. 

In  grave  Quifllilian's  copious  work,  we  find^ 
The  justest  rules,  and  clearest  method  join'd  :  670 

Thus  useful  arms  in  magazines  we  place, 
All  rang'd  in  order,  and  dispos'd  with  grace, 
But  less  to  please  the  eye,  than  arm  the  hand, 
Still  fit  for  use,  and  ready  at  command. 

Thee,  bold  Longinus  !  *  all  the  Nine  inspire,  675 

And  bless  their  Critic  with  a  Poet's  fire. 
An  ardent  Judge,  who  zealous  in  his  trust, 
With  warmth  gives  sentence,  yet  is  always  just ; 
Whose  own  example  strengthens  all  his  laws ; 
And  is  himself  that  great  Sublime  he  draws.  680 

Thus  long  succeeding  Critics  justly  reign'd, 
'  Licence  repress'd,  and  useful  laws  ordain'd. 
yj''"  <   Learning  and  Rome  alike  in  empire  grew  ; 
:   ^^^  . .'  ^  And  Arts  still  follow'd  where  her  Eagles  flew; 
,  J  From  the  same  foes,  at  last,  both  felt  their  doom,  685 

W^^  And  the  same  age  saw  Learning  fall,  and  Rome.^ 

With  Tyranny,  then  Superstition  join'd, 
As  that  the  body,  this  enslav'd  the  mind ; 
Much  was  believ'd,  but  little  understood, 

And  to  be  dull  was  constru'd  to  be  good ;  690 

A  second  deluge  Learning  thus  o'er-run. 
And  the  Monks  finish'd  what  the  Goths  begun. 

At  length  Erasmus,  that  great  injur'd  name,^ 
(The  glory  of  the  Priesthood,  and  the  shame  !) 
Stemm'd  the  wild  torrent  of  a  barb'rous  age,  695 

And  drove  those  holy  Vandals  off  the  stage. 

But  see  !  each  Muse,  in  Leo's  golden  days,"^ 
Starts  from  her  trance,  and  trims  her  wither'd  bays, 
Ji  ^  Rome's  ancient  Genius,  o'er  its  ruins  spread. 

Shakes  off  the  dust,  and  rears  his  rev'rend  head  700 

Then  Sculpture  and  her  sister-arts  revive ; 
Stones  leap'd  to  form,  and  rocks  began  to  live ; 
With  sweeter  notes  each  rising  Temple  rung  ;8 

^  See  Dionysius. "^      Of  Halicarnassus,     P.  <5  [Born    at   Rotterdam   1467;    died  at  Basle 

[b.  c.  30  circ.y  author  of  treatise  de  compositione  1536.] 

verborutn  and  Ars  Rhetorz'ca.']  "^  [The  papacy  of  Leo  X.  lasted  from  1513  to 

2  [T.  Petronius  Arbiter,  the  reputed  author  of  1521.  The  rebuilding  of  St.  Peter's  was  com- 
the5'fl/z>z'(r<7«,  lived  in  the  lime  of  Nero,  at  whose  menced  under  his  predecessor  Julius  II.;  for 
court  he  was  revered  as  elegantice  arbiter.']  whom  also  some  of  Raphael's  greatest  works 

3  [M.  Fabius  Quintilianus,  author  of  the  In-  were  executed.] 
stittitiones  Oratorice,  born  42  a.  d.]  8*1   have   the  best    authority,    that   of  the 

^  [Cassius  Longinus,  author  of  the  Treatise  learned,  accurate,  and   ingenious  Dr.  Burney, 

on  the  Sublime,  born  210,  put  to  death  273  a.  d.]  for  observing  that,  in  the  age  of  Leo  X.,  music 

^  Rome.]     [Shakspere  used  both  pronuncia-  did   not  keep  pace  with  poetry  in  advancing 

tions  of  this  word.]  towards  perfection.    Costantio  Festa  was  the 


70 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM. 


A  Raphael  painted,  and  a  Vida  sung.^ 

Immortal  Vida  :  on  whose  honourM  brow  705 

The  Poet's  bays  and  Critic's  ivy  grow : 

Cremona  now  shall  ever  boast  thy^name, 

As  next  in  place  to  Mantua,  next  in  fame  I^ 

But  soon  by  impious  arms  from  Latium  chas'd,^ 
Their  ancient  bounds  the  banish'd  Muses  passed;  710 

Thence  Arts  o'er  all  the  northern  world  advance, 
But  Critic-learning  flourished  most  in  France : 
The  rules  a  nation,  born  to  serve,  obeys ; 
And  Boileau  still  in  right  of  Horace  sways.* 
Entjye^  brave  T^ritons;^  foreign  laws  despis'd,  715 

And  kept  unconquer'd,  and  unciviHzM ; 
Fierce  for  the  liberties  of  wit,  and  bold. 
We  still  defy'd  the  Romans,  as  of  old. 
Yet  some  there  were,  among  the  sounder  few 
Of  those  who  less  presumed,  and  better  knew,  720 

Who  durst  assert  the  juster  ancient  cause. 
And  here  restored  Wit's  fundamental  laws. 
Such  was  the  Muse,  whose  rules  and  practice  tell,^ 
"  N^^^irp^g  rViipf  M^st^r-pipfp  IS  Writing  well." 


best  Italian  composer  during  the  time  of  Leo, 
and  Pietro  Aaron  the  best  theorist.  Palestrina 
was  not  born  till  eight  years  after  the  death  of 
Leo.'     War  ton. 

1  [Vida  is  as  a  critical  writer  chiefly  known 
by  his  Art  of  Poetry ^  subsequently,  and  prob- 
ably in  consequence  of  Pope's  encomium,  trans- 
lated into  English  by  Christopher  Pitt.  This 
Art  of  Poetry,  written  about  1520,  is  chiefly 
directed  to  a  consideration  of  the  rules  of  Epic 
Poetry;  and  was  the  first  of  many  similar  dis- 
courses by  Italian  poets,  Torquato  Tasso  among 
the  number.] 

2  As  next  in  place  to  Mantua^  Alluding  to 
*  Mantua  vai  miserae  nimium  vicina  Cremonae.' 

Virg. 

This  application  is  made  in  Kennet's  edition 
of  Vida.      Warton. 

2  [Referring  to  the  sack  of  Rome  by  the  duke 
of  Bourbon  in  1527.] 

4  [Boileau's  (1636-1711)  Art  Poetigue,  in 
four  cantos,  like  Pope's  essay  itself,  heralds  no 
new  literary  era;  it  is  rather  a  summary  by  an 
independent  critic  of  precepts  which  apply  to 
poetic  literature  in  general,  though  they  are 
frequently  pointed  by  special  and  even  personal 
application.  Nicolas  Despreaux  Boileau  was 
born  in  1636  and  lived  till  171 1.  Besides  the 
A. P.  his  Epistles  and  Lutrtn  are  his  most  note- 
worthy productions  ;  as  a  satirist  he  is  of  the 
school  of  Horace  rather  than  of  Juvenal  ;  as  a 
critic  he  is  distinguished  by  incisiveness  rather 


than  breadth.     His  Odes  have  no  exceptional 
merit.] 

^  Such  was  the  Muse,']  —  Essay  on  Poetry 
by  the  Duke  of  Buckingham.  Our  poet  is  not 
the  only  one  of  his  time  who  complimented  this 
Essay,  and  its  noble  author.  Mr.  Dryden  had 
done  it  very  largely  in  the  dedication  to  his 
translation  of  the  iEneid  ;  and  Dr.  Garth  in  the 
first  edition  of  the  Dispensary  says, 
'  The  Tiber  now  no  courtly  Gallus  sees, 

But  smiling  Thames  enjoys  his  Normanbys.' 
Though  afterwards  omitted,  when  parties  were 
carried  so  high  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  as 
to  allow  no  commendation  to  an  opposite  in  poli- 
tics. The  Duke  was  all  his  life  a  steady  adhe- 
rent to  the  Church-of-England  party,  yet  an 
enemy  to  the  extravagant  measures  of  the  court 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  On  which  account 
after  having  strongly  patronized  Mr.  Dryden,  a 
coolness  succeeded  between  them  on  that  poet's 
absolute  attachment  to  the  court,  which  carried 
him  some  lengths  beyond  what  the  Duke  could 
approve  of.  This  nobleman's  true  character  had 
been  very  well  marked  by  Mr.  Dryden  before, 

'  the  Muse's  friend, 
Himself  a  Muse.     In  Sanadrin's  debate 
True  to  his  prince,  but  not  a  slave  of  state.* 

Abs.  and  Achit. 
Our  Author  was  more  happy,  he  was  honour'd 
very  young  with  his  friendship,  and  it  continued 
till  his  death  in  all  the  circumstances  of  a  familiar 
esteem.     P. 


ESSAY  ON  CRITICISM,  71 

Such  was  Roscommon,!  not  more  learned  than  good,  725 

With  manners  genVous  as  his  noble  blood ; 

To  him  the  wit  of  Greece  and  Rome  was  known, 

And  ev'ry  author's  merit,  but  his  own. 

Such  late  was  Walsh  2  —  the  Muse's  judge  and  friend, 

Who  justly  knew  to  blame  or  to  commend  ;  730 

To  failings  mild,  but  zealous  for  desert ; 

The  clearest  head,  and  the  sincerest  heart. 

This  humble  praise,  lamented  shade!  receive, 

This  praise  at  least  a  grateful  Muse  may  give : 

The  Muse,  whose  early  voice  you  taught  to  sing,  735 

Prescribe  her  heights,  and  prun'd  her  tender  wing, 

(Her  guide  now  lost)  no  more  attempts  to  rise, 

But  in  low  numbers  short  excursions  tries : 

Content,  if  hence  th'  unlearnM  their  wants  may  view. 

The  learn'd  reflect  on  what  before  they  knew :  740 

Careless  of  censure,  nor  too  fond  of  fame  ; 

Still  pleased  to  praise,  yet  not  afraid  to  blame, 

Averse  alike  to  flatter,  or  ofl'end ; 

Not  free  from  faults,  nor  yet  too  vain  to  mend.^ 


1  An  Essay  on  Translated  Verse,  seems,  at 
first  sight,  to  be  a  barren  subject ;  yet  Roscom- 
mon has  decorated  it  with  many  precepts  in 
utility  and  taste,  and  enlivened  it  with  a  tale  in 
imitation  of  Boileau.  It  is  indisputably  better 
written,  in  a  closer  and  more  vigorous  style, 
than  the  last-mentioned  essay.  Roscommon 
was  more  learned  than  Buckingham.  He  was 
bred  under  Bochart,  at  Caen  in  Normandy. 
He  had  laid  a  design  of  forming  a  society  for 
the  refining  and  fixing  the  standard  of  our  lan- 
guage; in  which  project  his  intimate  friend 
Dryden  was  a  principal  assistant,      Warton. 

[Wentworth  Dillon  earl  of  Roscommon, 
nephew  of  the  great  earl  of  Strafford,  was  born 
about  1632  and  died  in  1684.  His  muse  was 
chaste  at  a  dissolute  court;  but  in  his  habits  of 
life  he  participated  in  one  at  least  of  the  vices 
of  the  age.  As  to  his  design  of  founding  an 
English  Academy,  it  was  revived  by  De  Foe 
and  probably  plagiarized  from  the  latter  by 
Swift,  and  also  found  favour  with  Prior  and 
Tickell.  It  has  been  again  advanced,  upon  a 
broader  basis,  by  a  brilliant  critic  of  our  own 
days.  See  Matthew  Arnold's  essay  on  The 
Literary  Injluence  0/  Academies. 1 

[John  Sheffield  earl  of  Mulgrave  and  marquis 
of  Normanby  by  creation  of  William  and  Mary, 
and  duke  of  Buckinghamshire  by  creation  of 
Queen  Anne,  was  born  in  1649  and  died  in  1722. 
His  Essay  on  Poetry,  to  which  Pope  has  given 
an  undeserved  immortality,  is  a  short  and  tol- 
erably meagre  performance,  in  which  a  variety 
of  disjointed  rules  are  applied  to  the  principal 


species  of  poetic  composition.  It  contains  how- 
ever some  vigorous  lines  and  some  sensible  ob- 
servations of  individual  criticism.  Compare 
note  to  p.  59.] 

2  If  Pope  has  here  given  too  magnificent  an 
eulogy  to  Walsh,  it  must  be  attributed  to  friend- 
ship, rather  than  to  judgment.  Walsh  was,  in 
general,  a  flimsy  and  frigid  writer.  The  Ram- 
bler calls  his  works  pages  of  inanity.  His  three 
letters  to  Pope,  however,  arie  well  written.  .  .  . 
Pope  owed  much  to  Walsh ;  it  was  he  who  gave 
him  a  very  important  piece  of  advice,  in  his  early 
youth;  for  he  used  to  tell  our  author,  that  there 
was  one  way  still  left  open  for  him  by  which  he 
might  excel  any  of  his  predecessors,  which  was, 
by  correctness;  that  though,  indeed,  we  had 
several  great  poets,  we  as  yet  could  boast  of 
none  that  were  perfectly  correct;  and  that  there- 
fore he  advised  him  to  make  this  quality  his  par- 
ticular study.     Warton. 

[As  to  Walsh's  suggestion  with  reference  to 
the  Fourth  Pastoral,  see  Pope's  note  to  p.  11. 
William  Walsh  was  born  in  1663  and  died  about 
1709;  his  poems  and  imitations  shew  him  to 
have  been  an  elegant  and  pleasing  writer,  who, 
however,  in  Dr.  Johnson's  words,  '  is  known 
more  by  his  familiarity  with  greater  men,  than 
by  anything  done  or  written  by  himself.'] 

3  These  concluding  lines  bear  a  great  resem- 
blance to  Boileau's  conclusion  of  his  Art  oj 
Poetry,  but  are  perhaps  superior:  [saire, 
•  Censeur  un  peu  facheux,  mais  souvent  ndces- 

Plus  enclin  2i  blSmer,  que  savant  a  bien  faire.' 
Warton. 


72 


THE  RAPE 
THE   RAPE   OF  THE   LOCK. 


AN  HEROI-COMICAL  POEM, 

1  Nolueram,  Belinda,  tuos  violare  capillos; 
Sed  juvat,  hoc  precibus  me  tribuisse  tuis.    Mart.     \Epigr.  Xll.  84.] 


TO   MRS.   ARABELLA   FERMOR.2 
Madam, 

It  will  be  in  vain  to  deny  that  I  have  some  regard  for  this  piece,  since  I  dedicate 
it  to  You.  Yet  you  may  bear  me  witness,  it  was  intended  only  to  divert  a  few  young  Ladies, 
who  have  good  sense  and  good  humour  enough  to  laugh  not  only  at  their  sex's  little  unguarded 
follies,  but  at  their  own.  But  as  it  was  communicated  with  the  air  of  a  Secret,  it  soon  found  its 
way  into  the  world.  An  imperfect  copy  having  been  offer'd  to  a  Bookseller,  you  had  the  good- 
nature for  my  sake  to  consent  to  the  publication  of  one  more  correct:  This  I  was  forc'd  to,  before 
I  had  executed  half  my  design,  for  the  Machinery  was  entirely  wantingjg.  ooinploal  it. 

The  Machinery,  Madam,  is  a  term  invented  by  the  Critics.^  tojsignify  that  part  which  the 
Deities,  Angeis,  or  .uaenions  are  made  to  act  in  a  Foem;  for  the  ancient  Foets  are  in  one  respect 
like  many  ino3ern  LadTes:  let  an  action  be  never  so  trivial  in  itself,  they  always  make  it  appear 
of  the  utmost  importance.  These  Machines  I  determined  to  raise  on  a  very  new  and  odd  founda- 
tion, the  Rosicrucian  doctrine  of  Spirits^ 

I  know  how  disagreeatDle  it  is  to  make  use  of  hard  words  before  a  Lady ;  but 't  is  so  much  the 
concern  of  a  Poet  to  have  his  works  understood,  and  particularly  by  your  Sex,  that  you  must  give 
me  leave  to  ex^ain  two  or  three  difficult  terms. 

The  Ros|crucians  are  a  people  I  must  bring  you  acquainted  with.  The  best  account  I  know 
of  them  is  in  a  French  book  call'd  Le  Comte  de  Gabalis,  which  both  in  its  title  and  size  is  so  like 
a  Novel,  that  many  of  the  Fail-  Sex  have  read  it  for  qpf  ^y  Tiint^^"'  According  to  these  Gentle- 
men, the  four  Elements  are  inhabited  by  Spirits,  which  they  call  Sylphs,^ Gnomes,  Nympjig.  and 
Salamanders.  The  Gnomes  or  Daemons  of  Earth  delight  in  mischief]^  ^vLtt<jV  Sylphs,  v^ose 
habitation  is  in  the  Air,  are  the  pest  condition'd  creatures  imaginable,  for  they  S9y,  any  mortals 
may  enjoy  the  most  intimate  familiarities  with  these  gentle  Spirits,  upon  a  condition  very  easy  to 
all  true  Adept^.  an  inviolate  preservation  of  Chasti!^  -  '  ** 


1  It  appears,  by  this  Motto,  that  the  follow- 
ing Poem  was  written  or  published  at  the  Lady's 
request.  But  there  are  some  further  circum- 
stances not  unworthy  relating.  Mr.  Gary  11  (a 
Gentleman  who  was  Secretary  to  Queen  Mary, 
wife  of  James  II.  whose  fortunes  he  followed 
into  France,  Author  of  the  Comedy  of  Sir- 
Solomon  Single,  and  of  several  translations  in 
Dryden's  Miscellanies)  originally  proposed  the 
subject  to  him  in  a  vie^  rS  piitpng  ^n  pnH^  by 
this  piece  of  ridicule  \o  a  quarrel  that  was  risen 
between  two  noble  FamUies.,  those  of  Lord  Petre_ 
and  of  Mrs.  Fermor,  on  the  trifling  occasion  of 
his  having  cut  otl  a  lock  of  her  hair.  The 
Author  sent  it  to  tne  Laay,  with  w  hum  tie  was 
acquainted;  and  she  took  it  so  well  as  to  give 
about  copies  of  it.  That  first  sketch,  (we  learn 
from  one  of  Kis  Letters)  was  written  in  less 
than  a  fortnight,  in  171 1,  in  two  Cantos  only, 
and  it  was  so  printed  [see  Appendix  III.  page 
527] ;  first,  in  a  Miscellany  of  Bern.  Lintot's, 
without  the  name  of  the  Author.  But  it  was 
received  so  well  that  he  made  it  more  con- 
siderable   the    next   year  by  the    addition    of 


the  machinery  nf  thp  Sylphg^  and  extended  it 
to  five  Cantos.  .  .  .  This  insertion  he  always 
esteemed,  and  justly,  the  greatest  effort  of  his 
skill  and  a:r^  as  a  PoeJ.     Warburton. 

2  [Warton  quotes  a  poem  addressed  to  the 
same  lady  by  Parnell,  on  her  leaving  London, 
commencing:  '  From  town  fair  Arabella  flies.' 
Miss  Arabella  Fermor's  niece.  Prioress  of  the 
English  Austin  Nuns  at  the  Fossee  at  Paris, 
told  Mrs.  Pi5zzi  *  that  she  believed  there  was 
but  little  comfort  to  be  found  in  a  housethat 


J^rboured  i>oets  ;  for  that  she  remembered  Mr. 
Pope's  praise ^Thade  her  aunt  very  troublesome 
and  conceited,  while  his  numberless  caprices 
would  have  employed  ten  servants  to  wait  on 
him,'  Lzye  and  Writings  of  Mrs.  Piozzi,  i. 
329.  Miss  Arabella  Fermor  was,  in  1714,  mar- 
ried to  Francis  Perkins,  Esq.  of  Ufton  Court, 
Berks.  Though  her  own  and  her  father's 
family  are  both  extinct,  her  portrait  is  still  pre- 
served at  his  earlier,  seat,  Tusmorg.  See  Car* 
ruthers,  Life  0/ Pope^  107.] 


OF  THE  LOCK. 


n 


As  to  the  following  Canto's,  all_the  passages  of  them  are  as  fabulous,  as  the  Vision  at  the 
beginning,  or  ttie  Transtormatlon  at  the  end;  (except  the  loss  of  your  Hair,  which  I  always 
mention  with  reverence).  The  Human  persons  are  as  fictitious  as  the  airy  ones;  and  the  char- 
acter of  Belinda,  as  it  is  now  manag'd,  resembles  you  in  nothing  but  in  Beauty. 

If  this  Poem  had  as  many  Graces  as  there  are  in  your  Person,  or  in  your  Mind,  yet  I  could 
never  hope  it  should  pass  thro'  the  world*  half  so  Uncensur'd  as  You  have  done.  But  let  its 
fortune  be  wjiat  it  will^  mme  is  happy  enough,  to  have  given  me  this  occasiorTof  assuring  you 
that  I  am,  with  the  truest  este_em,  MadAm,  ~  ^^^ 

^         Your  most  obedient,  Humble  Servant, 

A.  Pope. 

[The  original  idea  of  this  delightful  poem  —  merum  sal,  as  Addison  called  it  —  was 
confessedly  due  to  Pope's  friend  Carvll  i^  and  the  characters  which  carry  on  its  action 
all  belong  to  the  circle  of  "Catholic  tamilies  in  which  Pope  at  tbp  timp  mgyf  ^  The 
heroine  and  her  assailant  are  Identified  by  him  in  his  note ;  Thalestris  was  Mrs.  Morley 
and  S?ir  Plume  her  broHier.Sir  Ggbrge  tSrown.  who  not  unnaturally  resented  ttie  use  m 
which  nis  mdivmuaiity  was  put  in  th^  poem.  In  its  original  form  it  was  published  in 
1712,  in  its  present  complete  form,  containing  the  addition  of  the  machinery  of  the 
Sylphs.l  in  1714.  The  AVv  tiLjUie^Lo^k.  put  forth  in  the  following  year  by  '  Esdras 
Barnevelt  Apoth.,'  which  gravely  explained  the  whole  poem  as  a  covert  satire  upon 
Queen  Anne  and  the  Barrier  I'reaty,  was  only  one  of  those  exegetical  lnvstifica!iT3fS 
to  which  Pope  was  m  the  habit  01 'treating  nis  puDlic  —  apparently  at  his  own  expense, 
in  reality  in  order  to  attract  an  adventitious  interest  to  his  own  productions. 

The  Rape  of  the  Lock  is  correctly  termed  by  its  author  a  heroicomical  poem,  and 
belongs  distinctly  to  that  class  of  compositions  which  we  q,2\\  burlesque.  In  other 
words,  it  applies  a  peculiar  kind  of  treafment  to  a  subject  palpably  >nd  therefore 
ludicrously  undeserving  of  it.  It  differs  from  poems  which  are  mere  parodies  on  other 
""^asmucn 


poems,  iTTasmuch  as  11  buffesques  or  mocks  an  entire  class  of  poetry ;  and  herein  lies 
its  superiority  to  a  mere  travesty,  such  as  the  JJatracnomyomacma.  2^  its  true  prede- 
cessors WSTtOfTrTotes  tne  Rape  0/  the  Bucket  (1612)  by  Alessandro  TassohiT'and  two 
other  similar  Italian  works.  With  Boileau's  Lutrin  (translated  into  English  by  Rowe 
in  1708)  the  Rape  of^the  Lock  has^  in  common  both  nature  of  subject  and  method  of 
treatment  —  or't^^a]  qjiarrel  humorously  dignified  with  epical  importance,  ijut  while 
the  PtcttCTI  poernalmost  rises  to  the  level  ot  a  national  satireJlTie  English  is  rather,  to 
adopt  Roscoe's  expression,  a  social '  pleasantry.'  1  he  surly  cavil  of  Dennis,  that  Pope's 
poem  wants  a  mo]al  arid  15  6n  that  account  inferior  to  the  Lutrin,  scarcely  required 
to  be  refuted  with  mock  gravity  by  Dr.  Johnson,  who  declares  that '  the  freaks,  and 
humours,  and  spleen,  and  vanity  of  women,  as  they  embroil  families  in  discord,  and  fill 
houses  with  disquiet,  do-mere  to  obstruct  the  happiness  of  fife  in  a  year  than  the 
ambition  of  the  clergy  in  many  centuries.' 

Strange  to  say,  the  opposite  objection  has  recently  been  made  to  a  work  of  which 
the  executioirhaMh  general  Been  allowed lo  possess  in  a  rare  degree  the  double  charm 
which  pervades  the  irnny  ^f  pnHtp  rnT^vprtjatinn  Mr.  Taiue  would  insist ^hal  even^e 
Rape  of  the  LocFls  m  its  entire  scheme  nothing  m01tj"^mii  a  pT'acHcal  joke  in  the 
fashionable  style,  and  persuade  his  readers  that,  like  all  his  Englfsh  coniemporaries, 
Pope,  in  representing  the  life  of  the  world  retained  and  revealed  the  contempt  which 
he  l\ad  for  iMnJi^Jieart.^  Pope,  even  he're,'Ts"SccordiiIg'  to  thiil  omibibieiU  critic  in 
reahfy  fax  -fi'om  politefShd  sins  against  the  good  manners  of  which  he  affects  the 
varnish.  This  criticism  is  perhaps  the  most  striking  instance  in  Mr.  Tainan's  admirable 
work  of  his  tendency  towards  straining  a  special  instance  in  ordtff^to  rnake  it  fit  into 
a  general  view.  It  is  quite  true  that  the  spirit  of  the  age  to  which  Pope  belonged  was 
devoid  of  true  delicacy  in  the  appreciation  of  the  nobler  relations  between  the  sexes ; 
quite  true  that  Pope  individually  showed  in  many  of  his  poems  a  want  of  that  genuine 
tenderness  which  may  display  itself  in  satire  as  well  as  in  erotic  verse.    But  the  Rape 

1  [Mr.  Kingsley,  in  his  essay  on  Alexander  nexion  with  man;    while  the  relation  of  such 

Smith  and  Alexander  Pope,  has  pointed  out  mythological  beings  to  nature  (an  aspect  under 

how  Pope,  in  employing  the  Sylphs  as  poetic  which  they  were  equally  regarded  by  the  Greeks) 

machinery,  viewed  them,  after  the  precedent  of  was  only  restored  to  them  in  literature  by  the 

Spenser  and  Ariosto,  solely  in  their  fancied  con-  moderns,  Schiller  and  Goethe  and  Keats.] 


74  THE  RAPE 

of  the  Lock  being  intended  as  a  piece  of  raiUery,  can  only  be  condemned  if  in  itj-aillery] 
passes  the  bounds  of  what  is  pleasing;  and  tKoiTgh  doubtless  much  might  have  been 
put  into  the  poem  which  is  noftHere,  yet  what  there  is  init_(if  due  allowance  be  made 
for  certain  "appfoaChiSs  to  a  coarseTTess  by  no  m^TTs  confined  to  the  contemporary 
literature  of  any  one  particular  country),  is  both  light  and  charming;  and  if  a  moral 
be  conveyed,  it  is  (except  in  a  single  passage  towards  the  beginning  of  the  last  Canto) 
implied  with  well-bred  ease  and  good  humour,  and  not  sourly  obtruded  upon  an 
unprepared_audience.     '  ' 

'\\i^ Rape  of  the  Lock  enjoyed  the  honour  of  translation  by  a  distinguished  French 
writer.  Marmontel's  Boucle  de  Cheveux  enlevee  is  upon  the  whole  a  spirited  and 
successful  effort,  not  more  inaccurate  than  is  usually  the  case  with  French  translations, 
and  felicitous  in  some  of  the  more  salient  passages,  as  e.g.  the  description  of  the  game 
at  Ombre.  But  the  antithetical  brilliancy  of  Pope's  hnes,  nowhere  more  observable 
than  in  this  poem,  is  all  but  lost  in  the  easy  flow  of  the  French  version,  which  is  of 
course  in  Alexandrines.  If  dramatic  pieces  be  left  out  of  the  question,  the  Rape  of  the 
Lock  is  probably  one  of  the  longest  occasional  poems  in  any  literature ;  and  yet  French 
literature  itself  may  be  challenged  to  match  the  fparkllllg  vivacity  of  its  execution  no.  o.' 
less  than  the  airy  grace  of  its  plot  and  under-plot.j  .  ^    ! 

CANTO   I.  r^vC  "  ^ 

^^    f^\  A  A  7^^'^  ^^^^  offence  from  am'rous  causes  springs^  .jf 

^jj^       V  V  V    What  mighty  contests  rise  from  trivial  things, ) 
v^^  I  sing  —  This  verse  to  Caryl,i  Muse!  is  Huel 
0*^C^    This,  ev'n  Belinda  may  vouchsafe  to  view : 
:^        4,'- Slight  is  the  subject,  bufl^t  so  the  praise,  ..  .  ,,S 

;i-  If  She  inspire,  and  He  approve  my  lays.      /  '  '    *^iJ^ 

JL    f  t       ^^y  what  sjxaQ£:e  motive^:  Goddess !  could  compel 
[^V^iir^A  well-bred  LoTdTassa^IltTgentle  Belle.''    ' 
Xj^J^  O  say  what  stranger  caus"?,  yet  unexplorM, 

'"^^^  Could  make  a  gentle  Belle  reject  a  Lord?  ^icJP 

^n  tasks  so  bold,  can  little  men  engage,  ^^     -^^z    y/,r^o^ 

^•rt^ff^And  in  softj^psorns  dwells  such  mighty  Rage?.  -Wec^'.'^-*^ 
u^'\^     T — "Sol  thro^  wlifte  curtains  shot  a  tjmVous  ray,  -  ^ 
,^.V  ..   '  And  ope,d  those  eyes  that  must  eclipse  the  day: 
'  Now?  lap-dogs  tgive  themselves  the  rpusing  shakey      - '  .  15       . 

And  isleepless  hovers,  just  at  twelvfej  awake  :   .  ,.,l  aC  "^.'^^     '^^  >'* 
Thrice  rung  tlie  bell,  the  slipper  knocked  the  ground,  ^  *' 

And  the  press'd  watch  returned  a  silver  sound. 


Belinda  still  her  downy  pillow  prest,  i    ^  \  ^  '^ 

^ ..;  Her  guardian  Sylph  prolonged  the  balmy  rest :  ^l^lp  tM^'^so  ,,> 

^  'T  was  He  had  summoned  to  her  silent  bed  lo         A^^^^^'*^ 

The  morning-dream  that  hover'd  o'er  her  head ;      ^^1^ 


A  Youth  more  glitt'ring  than  a  Birth-night  Beau, 

(That  ev'n  in  slumber  causM  her  cheek  to  glow) 

SeemM  to  her  ear  his  winning  lips  to  lay,  25 

And  thus  in  whispers  said,  or  seem'd  to  say. 

^*  Fairest  of  mortals,  thou  distinguish'd  care 
Of  thousand  bright  Inhabitants  of  Air! 
If  e'er  one  vision  touched  thy  infant  thought, 

'  [John  Caryll,  a  gentleman  of  an  ancient     1736  a  most  intimate  friend^  Pope's.     See  in- 
Catholic  family  in  Sussex,  and  till  his  death  in    troductory  Memoir>\ 


.> 


¥p^' 


^^ 


Mt^a 


OF  THE  LOCK. 


Of  all  the  Nurse  and  all  the  Priest  have  taught ; 
Of  airy  Elves  by  maonlight  shadows  seen, 
The  silver  toK^ri,  and  the  circled  green, 
Or  virgins  visited  by  Angel-pow'rs,^^^^*'  •  -  ^     - 
With  golden  crowns  and  wreaths  of  heav'nly  flow'rs ; 
Hear  and  believe!  thy  own  importance  know,     ^du"'^--ir 
Nor  bound  thy  narrow  views  to  things  below,       j^-'t/*-**^ 
Some  secret  truths,  from  learned  pride  conceaPd,     «-^^ 
To  Maids  alone  and  Children  are  reveaPd : 
What  tho^  no  credit  doubting  Wits  may  give? 
The  Fair  and  Innocent  shall  still  believe. 
Know,  then,  unnumberM  Spirits  round  thee  fly, 
The  light  iMilitia  of  the  lower  sky  : 
These,  tho^  unseen,  are  ever  on  the  wing,     ■  r  y  O 
Hang  o'er  the  Box,  and  hover  round  the  Ring. 
Think  what  an  equipage  thou  hast  in  Air, 
And  view  y^jth  ^mjn  two  Pf?g^f=;  a,nH  a_  Chair. 
As  T]|Ow  ynnr  own,  nnr  hemgs  were  of  old,^ 
And  once  enclosed  in  Woman's  beauteous  mould : 
Thence,  by  a  soft  transition,  we  repair  /, 

From  earthly  Vehicles  to  these  of  air. 
Think  not,  when  Woman's  transient  breath  is  fled 
That  all  her  vanities  at  once  are  dead ; 
Succeeding  vanities  she  still  regards. 
And  tho'  she  plays  no  more,  overlooks  the  cards. 
Her  joy  in  gilded  Chariots,  when  alive, 
And  love  of  Ombre,  after  death  ^rvive.^^ 
For  when  th^  Y*  all  111  Uii'  Llreir  pride  expire, 
To  their  first  Elements  their  Souls  retire : 
The  Sprites  of  fiery  Termagants  in  Flame 
Mount  up,  and  take  a^Salamander's  name. 
Soft  yielding  minds  to  Water  glide  away. 
And  sip,  with  Nymphs,  their  elemental  Tea. 
The  graver  Prude  sinks  downward  to  a  Gnome, 
In  search  of  mischief  still  on  Earth  to  foam. 
The  light  Coquettes  in  Sylphs  aloft  repair, 
And  sport  and  flutter  in  the  fields  of  Air. 
"  Know  further  yet ;  whoever  fair  and  chaste 


75 


30 


35 


40 


45 


it 


55 


60 


65 


1  As  now  your  own,  etc.]  He  here  forsakes 
the  Rosicrucian  system;  which,  in  this  part,  is 
too  extravagant  even  for  poetry;  and  gives  a 
beautiful  fiction  of  his  own,  on  the  Platonic 
Theology  of  the  continuance  of  the  passions  in 
another  state,  when  the  mind,  before  its  leav- 
ing this,  has  not  been  purged  and  purified  by 
philosophy;  which  furnishes  an  occasion  for 
much  useful  satire.     Warburton. 

2  [Chatto,  in  his  History  of  Playing-Cards, 
disproves  the  statement  of  Barrington,  that 
Ombre  was  probably  introduced  by  Catherine  of 
Portugal,  the  queen  of  Charles  II.  (since  Waller 


has  a  poem  *  On  a  card  torn  at  Ombre  by  the 
Queen,')  by  reference  to  a  political  pamphlet 
entitled  The  Royal  gatne  0/ Ombre.  "pvLhXishcA 
at  London  in  1660,  two-yuHi&  before  tne  Queen's 
arrival  in  England.  In  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne,  according  to  Chatto,  Ombre  was  the 
favoufTte  ganie~5frthg"TaHiei.  as  Piquei  of  the 
gentlemen.  The  name^oTthe  forjjiet^ame  is  of 
course  derived  from  thS  Spanish  word  for  a 
man;  and  *  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it 
was  one  of  the  oldest  games  at  cards  played  in 
Europe.'] 


76  THE  RAPE 

Rejects  mankind,  is  by  some  Sylph  embrac'd : 
1  For  Spirits,  freed  from  mortal  laws,  with  ease 
I  Assume  what  sexes  and  what  shapes  they  please.  70 

'  What  guards  the  purity  of  melting  Maids, 
In  courtly  balls,  and  midnight  masquerades. 
Safe  from  the  treacherous  friend,  the  daring  spark, 
The  glance  by  day,  the  whisper  in  the  dark. 
When  kind  occasion  prompts  their  warm  desires,  75 

When  music  softens,  and  when  dancing  fires  ? 
'T  is,  but  their  Sylph,  the  wise  Celestials  know, 
Tho^  Honour  is  the  word  ^^^^^  ^^"  bfloWj^ 

^'  b'ome  nymphs  there  are,  too  conscious  of  their  face^ 
For  life  predestinM  to  the  Gnomes'  embrace.  80 

These  swell  their  prospects  and  exalt  their  pride, 
When  offers  are  disdainM,  and  love  deny"'d : 
Then  gay  Ideas  crowd  the  vacant  brain. 
While  Peers,  and  Dukes,  and  all  their  sweeping  train, 
And  Garters,  Stars,  and  Coronets  appear,  85 

And  in  soft  sounds.  Your  Grace  salutes  their  ear. 
'T  is  these  that  early  taint  the  female  soul. 
Instruct  the  eyes  of  young  Coquettes  to  roll. 
Teach  Infant-cheeks  a  bidden  blush  to  know, 
,^d  little  hearts  to  flutter  at  a  Beau.  90 

"  Oft,  when  the  world  imagine  women  stray, 
The  Sylphs  thro'  mystic  mazes  guide  their  way, 
Thro'  all  the  giddy  circle  they  pursue, 
^'^  And  old  impertinence  expel  by  new. 

y  What  tender  maid  but  must  a  victim  fall  95 

To  one  man's  treat,  but  for  another's  ball? 
When  Florio  speaks  what  virgin  could  withstand, 
---^  .  If  gentle  Damon  did  not  squeeze  her  hand  ? 

nS^  i-v)J  ■;  With  varying  vanities,  from  ev'ry  part, 

^       Ju    ""^      They  shift  the  moving  Toyshop  of  their  heart ;  100 

yA  .    f^        Where  wigs  with  wigs,  with  sword-knots  sword-knots  strive, 
)r  ^  Beaux  banish  beaux,  and  coaches  coaches  drive. 

^     ''  This  erring  mortals  Levity  may  call ; 

Oh  blind  to  truth!  the  Sylphs  contrive  it  all. 

"  Of  these  am  I,  who  thy  protection  claim,  105 

A  watchful  sprite,  and  Ariel  is  my  name. 
Late,  as  I  rang'd  the  crystal  wilds  of  air, 
In  the,  clear  Mirror^  of  thy  ruling  Star 
I  saw,  alas !  ^stJTfie"dread  event  impend. 

Ere  to  the  main  this  morning  sun  descend,  no 

But  heav'n  reveals  not  what,  or  how,  or  where: 
Warn'd  by  the  Sylph,  oh  pious  maid,  beware! 

1  Tho*  honour  is  the  wor4with  men  below. '\         ^  In  the  clear  mirror']     The  language  of 
Parody^of  Homer.     IVarJiurton,  the  Platonists,  the  writers  of  the  intelligible 

2  too  conscious  of  their  face,]  i.e.  too  sensi-  world  of  Spirits,  etc.     P. 
ble  of  their  beauty.     Warburton. 


OF  THE  LOCK,  77 

This  to  disclose  is  all  thy  guardian  can : 
I  Beware  of  all,  but  most  beware  of  Man ! " 

He  said  ;  when  Shock^who^hought  she  5^1ept  ton  1n[^,    113 
Leaped  up,  and  wak'd  hlsmistress  with  his  tongue. 
'Twas  then,  Belinda,  if  report  say  true, 
Thy  eyes  first  open'd  on  a  Billet-doux  ; 
Wounds,  Charms,  and  Ardors  were  no  sooner  read, 
But  all  the  Vision  vanishM  from  thy  head.  1 20 

And  now,  unveiPd,  the  Toilet  stands  displayed,       y 
l\>'  Each  silver  Vase  in  mystic  order  laid. 

Jp  First,  rob'd  in  white,  the  Nymph  intent  adores, 

With  ViP^H  UJ2rj2^Tpr^<|^JJT^  r^c^TYif^flQ^OWVs.^ 

A  heav'nly  image  in  the  glass  appears,  125 

To  that  she  bends,  to  that  her  eyes  she  rears ;    \  v^HcK 

Th'  inferior  Priestess, ^  at  her  altar's  side,       ^-/iP^^  ^ 
Trembling  begins  the  sacred  rites  of  Pride.    - 
Unnumber'd  treasures  ope"  at  once,  and  here 
The  various  offerings  of  the  world  appear ;  130 

From  each  she  nicely  culls  with  curious  toil. 
And  decks  the  Goddess  with  the  glittVing  spoil. 
This  casket  India's  glowing  gems  unlocks, 
And  all  Arabia  breathes  from  yonder  box. 
The  Tortoise  here  and  Elephant  unite,  135 

Transforrii'd  to  combs,  the  speckled,  and  the  white. 
Here  files  of  pins  extend  their  shining  rows, 
PuiTs,  Powders,  Patches,  Bibles,  Billet-doux. 
Now  awful  Beauty  puts  on  all  its  arms ;  . 
The  falreach  moment  rises  in  her  charms^* 
Repairs  her  smiles,  awakens  ev'ry  grace. 
And  calls  forth  all  the  wonders  of  her  face ; 
Sees  by  degrees  a  purer  blush  arise. 
And  keener  lightnings  quicken  in  her  eyes. 
The  busy  Sylphs  suH:e*«idtheij:jdai4«ig  care,*  145 

These  set  the  head,  and  those  divide  the  hair, 
Some  fold  the  sleeve,  whilst  others  plait  the  gown ; 
^>  And  Betty's  pr^is'd  for  labours  not  her  owm     '  /     --U-^^ 

1  [Shock  =  shough  {Macbeth)  i.e.  shaggy.]       inaccuracy  in  these  lines.    He  first  makes  his 

2  [Cosmetics  formed  a  separate  branch  of  an-    heroine  the  chief  priestess,  and  then  the  goddess 
cient  medicine ;  and  works  on  the  subject  were    herself.     IVarburton. 

dedicated  to  Cleopatra  and  to  Plotina  the  consort         *  The  busy  Sylphs,  etc.]     Ancient  traditions 

of  Trajan  by  their  body-physicians.     Of  Ovid's  of  the  Rabbis  relate,  that  several  of  the  fallen 

Medicamina  Faciei  only  the  first  hundred  lines  angels  became  amorous  of  women,  and  particu- 

remain.      See    note    to  chap.   i.  of   Bottiger's  larize  some;   among  the  rest  Asael,  who  lay 

Sabina,  where  the  description  of  the  Roman  with   Naamah,  the  wife  of  Noah,  or  of  Ham; 

beauty's  toilet  should  be  compared  with  Pope's  and  who,  continuing   impenitent,  still  presides 

slighter  and  graceful  touches.]  over  the  women's  toilets.      Bereshi  Rabbi  in 

*  Th'  inferior  Priestess t\    There  is  a  small  Genes,  vi.  2.    P. 


78 


THE  RAPE 


CANTO   II. 

Not  with  more  glories,  in  th'  etherial  plain, 

The  Sun  first  rises  o'er  the  purpled  main, 

Than,  issuing  forth,  the  rival  of  his  beams 

Launch'd  on  the  bosom  of  the  silver  Thames. 

Fair  Nymphs,  and  well-drest  Youths  around  her  shone,^ 


But  evVy  eye  was  fix'd  on  her  alone.  ^^ 

On  her  white  breast  a  sparkling  Cross  she  wore, 
Which  Jews  might  kiss,  and  Infidels  adore. 
Her  lively  looks  a  sprightly  mind  disclose, 
Quick  as  her  eyes,  and  as  unfixM  as  those: 
Favours  to  none,  to  all  she  smiles  extends ; 
Oft  she  rejects,  but  never  once  offends. 
Bright  as  the  sun,  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike,  f 
And,  like  the  sun,  they  shine  on  all  alike. 
Yet  graceful  ease,  and  sweetness  void  of  pride, 
Might  hide  her  faults,  if  Belles  had  faults  to  hide : 
If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall. 
Look  oh  her  face,  and  you  '11  forget  'em  all.-.*.^ 

This  Nymph,  to  the  destruction  of  mankiod/ 
Nourish'd  two  Locks,  which  graceful  hung  behind 
In  equal  curls,  and  well  conspir'd  to  deck 
With  shining  ringlets  the  smooth  iv'ry  neck. 
Love  in  these  labyrinths  his  slaves  detains, 
And  mighty  hearts  are  held  in  slender  chains. 
With  hairy  springes  we  the  birds  betray, 
Slight  lines  of  hair  surprise  the  finny  prey. 
Fair  tresses  man's  imperial  race  ensnare, 
And  beauty  draws  us  with  a  single  hair. 

Th'  advent'rous  Baron  the  bright  locks  admir'd ; 
He  saw,  he  wish'd,  and  to  the  prize  aspir'd. 
Resolv'd  to  win,  he  meditates  the  way. 
By  force  to  ravish,  or  by  fraud  betray ; 
For  when  success  a  Lover's  toil  attends. 
Few  ask,  if  fraud  or  force  attain'd  his  ends. 

For  this,  ere  Phoebus  rose,  he  had  implor'd 
Propitious  heav'n,  and  ev'ry  pow'r  ador'd. 
But  chiefly  Love  —  to  Love  an  Altar  built, 
Of  twelve  vast  French  Romances,  neatly  gilt. 
There  lay  three  garters,  half  a  pair  of  gloves  ; 
And  all  the  trophies  of  his  former  loves  ; 
With  tender  Billet-doux  he  lights  the  pyre. 
And  breathes  three  am'rous  sighs  to  raise  the  fire. 
Then  prostrate  falls,  and  begs  with  ardent  eyes 
Soon  to  obtain,  and  long  possess  the  prize : 
The  pow'rs  gave  ear,^  and  granted  half  his  pray'r, 
The  rest,  the  winds  dispers'd  in  empty  air. 

1  Virg.  Mn.  xi.  vv.  794-5.     P. 


V^ 


15 


f\^ 


20 


25 


30 


35 


40 


45 


y- 


OF  THE  LOCK. 

lut  now  secure  the  painted  vessel  glides, 
The  sun-beams  trembling  on  the  floating  tides  : 
While  inelting  music  steals  upon  the  sky,  ,„  ^^-     ^   ^      .v- 

And  soften'd  sounds  along  the  waters  die ;  ^1>*^''t        -^ '5® 

Smooth  flow  the  waves,  the  Zephyrs  gently  play,  A     ' 

Belinda  smiPd,  and  all  the  world  was  gay. 
All  but  the  Sylph  —  with  careful  thoughts  opprest, 
Th'  inpending  woe  sat  heavy  on  his  breast. 

He  summons  strait  his  Denizens  of  air ;  55 

The  lucid  squadrons  round  the  sails  repair : 
Soft  o'er  the  shrouds  aerial  whispers  breathe, 
That  seem'd  but  Zephyrs  to  the  train  beneath. 
Some  to  the  sun  their  insect-wings  unfold,  , 

Waft  on  the  breeze,  or  sink  in  clouds  of  gold ;       ^  60 

Transparent  forms,  too  fine  for  mortal  sight, 
Their  fluid  bodies  half  dissolved  in  light. 
Loose  to  the  wind  their  airy  garments  flew,  h  ^ 

Thin  glittering  textures  of  the  filmy  dew,     ^ik^  i 
Dipt  in  the  richest  tincture  of  the  skies,  65 

Where  light  disports  in  ever-mingling  dyes, 

While  evVy  beam  new  transient  colours  flings,  4 

Colours  that  change  whene'er  they  wave  their  wings.  C* 

Amid  the  circle,  on  the  gilded  mast, 

Superior  by  the  head,  was  Ariel  plac'd ;  j  7^ 

His  purple  pinions  op'ning  to  the  sun,  Ifif^  ^      .-^^^, . 

He  rais'd  his  azure  wand,  and  thus  begun.  M  ^ 

"  Ye  Sylphs  and  Sylphids,  to  your  chief  give  ear  !    ^A^ 


Fays.^f^ir^p<^^  af^rjn^RTvpg^^jjiH  D^r^iTTnm:^  hear  !  ^ 

Ye  know  the  sphereT^liHvarious  taslcs^ssign'd  75 

By  laws  eternal  to  th'  aerial  kind.  ,       a^ 

Some  in  the  fields  of  pu'-est  ^ther  play,  {Jy^ 

And  bask  and  whiten  in  the  blaze  of  day.  ^ 

Some  guide  the  course  of  wand'ring  orbs  on  high,  ^^^^ 

Or  roll  the  planets  thro'  the  boundless  sky.  C^^^'r         ^ 

Some  less  refin'd,  beneath  the  moon's  pale  light      ) 

Pursue  the  stars  that  shoot  athwart  the  night, 

Or  suck  the  mists  in  grosser  air  below, 

Or  dip  their  pinions  in  the  painted  bow. 

Or  brew  fierce  tempests  on  the  wintry  main,  85 

Or  o'er  the  glebe  distil  the  kindly  rain. 

Others  on  earth  o'er  human  race  preside, 

Watch  all  their  ways,  and  all  their  actions  guide : 

Of  these  the  chief  the  care  of  Nations  own. 

And  guard  with  Arms  divine  the  British  Throne.  90 

"  Our  humbler  province  is  to  tend  the  Fair, 
Not  a  less  pleasing,  tho'  less  glorious  care ; 
To  save  the  powder  from  too  rude  a  gale. 
Nor  let  th'  imprison'd  essences  exhale ; 

1  [The  invocation  as  in  Satan's  address  to  the  *  Thrones,  Dominations,  Princedoms,  Virtues, 
Powers,'  in  Paradise  Lost.} 


tvA"^/ 


-g 


80   ti  \rY  ^  THE  RAPE 

i^  To  draw  fresh  colours  from  the  vernal  flow'rs  ;  95 

To  steal  from  rainbows  e'er  they  drop  in  show'rs 
A  brighter  wash  ;  to  curl  their  waving  hairs, 
•^)  Assist  their  blushes,  and  inspire  their  airs  ; 

,       '^  Nay  oft,  in  dreams,  invention  we  bestow, 

P^      J  To  change  a  Flounce,  or  add  a  Furbelow.  ^  100 

^'^\  "  This  day,  black  Omens  threat  the  brightest  Fair, 

^  v)>»  ;  That  e'er  deserv'd  a  watchful  spirit's  care  ; 

^A>v ,  Some  dire  disaster,  or  by  force,  or  slight ; 

^  But  what,  or  where,  the  fates  have  wrapt  in  night.  '^^' 

"TWhether  the  nympll^shall  break  Diana's  law,   ^^^  '^^jjjSG^S 
'  Or  some  frail  China  jan receive  a  flaw;  tTl^'^^^'^  ^u 

Or  stain  her  honour:  or  her  new  brocade ;  \f^'^^^^      -^  f-*^' 
Forget  her  pray'rs,  or  miss  a  masquerade ;  ^^    % 

Ariose  her  heart^l  or  necklace,  at  a  ball ; 

)r  Wnether  Heav'n  has  doom'dthat  Shock  must  fall.  no 

Haste,  then,  ye  spirits !  to  your  charge  repair :        ^^ 
The  flutt'ring  fan  be  Zephyretta's  care ; 
The  drops  to  thee,  Brillante,  we  consign ; 
And,  Momentilla,  let  the  watch  be  thine ; 

Do  thou,  Crispissa,  tend  her  fav'rite  Lock;  115 

Ariel  himself  shall  be  the  guard  of  Shock. 
"  To  fifty  chosen  Sylphs,  of  special  note. 
We  trust  th'  important  charge,  the  Petticoat  'A 
Oft  have  we  known  that  seven-fold  fence  to  fail, 
V  Tho'  stiff  with  hoops,  and  arm'd  with  ribs  of  whale ;  120 

Form  a  strong  line  about  the  silver  bound, 
^  And  guard  the  wide  circumference  around. 

"  Whatever  spirit,  careless  of  his  charge. 
His  post  neglects,  or  leaves  the  fair  at  large. 
Shall  feel  sharp  vengeance  soon  o'ertake  his  sins,  125 

Be  stopp'd  in  vials,  or  transfix'd  with  pins ; 
Or  plung'd  in  lakes  of  bitter  washes  lie. 
Or  wedg'd  whole  ages  in  a  bodkin's  eye : 
Gums  and  Pomatums  shall  his  flight  restrain, 
While  clogg'd  he  beats  his  silken  wings  in  vain ;  130 

Or  Alum  styptics  with  contracting  pow'r 
Shrink  his  thin  essence  like  a  rivel'd  flow'r : 
Or,  as  Ixion  fix'd,  the  wretch  shall  feel 
The  giddy  motion  of  the  whirling  Mill, 

In  fumes  of  burning  Chocolate  shall  glow,  135 

And  tremble  at  the  sea  that  froths  below! " 

He  spoke ;  the  spirits  from  the  sails  descend ; 
Some,  orb  in  orb,  around  the  nymph  extend ; 
Some  thrid  the  mazy  ringlets  of  her  hair ; 
Some  hang  upon  the  pendants  of  her  ear :  140 

With  beating  hearts  the  dire  event  they  wait. 
Anxious,  and  trembling  for  the  birth  of  Fate. 

^  It  is  impossible  here  not  to  recollect  that    of  Addison,  in  the  127th  Spectatory  on  this  im- 
matchless  piece  of  raillery  and  exquisite  humour,    portant  part  of  female  dress.     Warton, 


f 


OF  THE  LOCK,  8l 


CANTO   III.  .  ^  / 

/// 

Close  by  those  meads,  for  ever  crown'd  with  flow'rs, 

Where  Thames  with  pride  surveys  his  rising  towYs, 

There  stands  a  structure  of  majestic  frame, 

Which  from  the  neighbVing_Hampton  takes  its  name. 

Here  Britain's  statesmen  oft  the  fall  foredoom  v^t*-y  -^  5 

Of  foreign  Tyrants  and  of  Nymphs  at  home ;        '^'       ^i^iA.^-^ 

Here  thou,  great  Anna!  whom  three  realms  obey,  f^ 

Dost  sometimes  counsel  take  —  and  sometinies  Tea. 

Hither  the  heroes  and  the  nymphs  resort, 
To  taste  awhile  the  pleasures  of  a  Court ;  lo 

In  various  talk  th'  instructive  hours  they  past, 
Who  gave  the  ball,  or  paid  the  visit  last ; 
One  speaks  the  glory  of  the  British  Queen, 
And  one  describes  a  charming  Indian  screen; 
A  third  interprets  motions,  looks,  and  eyes  ;  15 

•  At  ev'ry  word  a  reputation  dies, 
^ufif,  or  the  fan,  supply  each  pause  of  chat, 
^With  singing,  laughing,  ogHng,  and  all  that.  C  4-    ±. 

r'   Mean  while,  declining  from  the  noon  o(  day, /\^C^^^'Oi^^f*    k^^A. 
'  The  sun  obliquely  sTioots'TTis  "burning  ray  ;^     >JOh'i"  Cl>f^  '^    *^^ 
y— J  The  hungry  Judges  soon  the  sentence  sign, 
Vy^  ^-^J^^d  wretches  hang  that  jury-men  may  dine  ;  ^      -^ 
•^       i3  f^'^  '"^^^  merchant  from  th'  Exchange  returns  in  peace, 

,  /^f^    JAnd  the  long  labours  of  the  Toilet  cease.  ^*rW-<  ^iJoclL 

v^*  ,^  Belinda  now,  whom  thirst  of  fame  invites,  25 

i^*''  Burns  to  encounter  two  advent'rous  Knights, 

At  Ombre  singly  to  decide  their  doom  ; 
And  swells  her  breast  with  conquests  yet  to  come. 
Straight  the  three  bands  prepare  in  arms  to  join, 
Each  band  the  number  of  the  sacred  nine.  30 

Soon  as  she  spreads  her  hand,  th'  aerial  guard  ^r-f  j^ 

Descend,  and  sit  on  each  important  card :  ^^  ]  i}J^^ 

First  Ariel  perch'd  upon  a  Matadore,^  QWy^"^    ^ 

Then  each,  according  to  the  rank  they  bore ;        » W  .rtjLJji^ 
For  Sylphs,  yet  mindful  of  their  ancient  race,  g  >*>-7^    ^^ 

Are,  as  when  women,  wondrous  fond  of  place.  •4\Aa3^'"    M"^ 

Behold,  four  Kings  in  majesty  rever'd,  *^^^>J^  ^ 

With  hoary  whiskers  and  a  forky  beard  ;  4  *^^^^^t 

And  four  fair  Queens  whose  hands  sustain  a  flow'r,  *  ^  .  a  ^ 

Th'  expressive  emblem  of  their  softer  pow'r ;  40 

,  .V  >,  Four  Knaves  in  garbs  succinct,  a  trusty  band, 

w  ^  Caps  on  their  heads,  and  halberts  in  their  hand ; 

-  L  And  particolour'd  troops,  a  shining  train. 

Draw  forth  to  combat  on  the  velvet  plain. 

1  From  Congreve.     Warton.  can  scarcely  be  a  doubt  that  the  other  nations  of 

'  From  the  terms  used  in  the  game  of  Ombre    Western  Europe  derived  their  knowledge  of  it 

—  Spadillo,  Basto,  Matador,  Punto,  &c.  —  there    from  the  Spaniards.     Chatto. 

C 


82  THE  RAPE 

The  skilful  Nymph  reviews  her  force  with  care :  45 

Let  Spades  be  trumps!  she  said,  and  trumps  they  were. 

Now  move  to  war  her  sable  Matadores,^ 
In  show  like  leaders  of  the  swarthy  Moors. 
Spadillio  ^  first,  unconquerable  Lord ! 

Led  off  two  captive  trumps,  and  swept  the  board.  50 

As  many  more  Manillio^  forc'd  to  yield, 
^  And  marchM  a  victor  from  the  verdant  field. 

Him  Basto  ^  follow'd,  but  his  fate  more  hard 
GainM  but  one  trump  and  one  Plebeian  card. 
,  With  his  broad  sabre  next,  a  chief  in  years,  55 

The  hoary  Majesty  of  Spades  appears. 
Puts  forth  one  manly  leg,  to  sight  reveaPd, 
The  rest,  his  many-colour'd  robe  conceaPd. 
The  rebel  Knave,  who  dares  his  prince  engage, 
Proves  the  just  victim  of  his  royal  rage.  60 

Ev'n  mighty  Pam,  that  Kings  and  Queens  overthrew  ^ 
And  mow'd  down  armies  in  the  fights  of  Lu,^ 
Sad  chance  of  war!  now  destitute  of  aid. 
Falls  undistinguished  by  the  victor  spade ! 

Thus  far  both  armies  to  Belinda  yield ; 65 

Now  to  the  Baron  fate  inclines  the  field. 
His  warlike  Amazon  her  host  invades, 
Th'  imperial  consort  of  the  crown  of  Spades. 
The  Club's  black  Tyrant  first  her  victim  dy'd, 
Spite  of  his  haughty  mien,  and  barb'rous  pride :  70 

What  boots  the  regal  circle  on  his  head, 
His  giant  limbs,  in  state  unwieldy  spread ; 
That  long  behind  he  trails  his  pompous  robe, 
And,  of  all  monarch's,  only  grasps  the  globe? 
;-  The  Baron  now  his  Diamonds  pours  apace ;  75 

P  Th'  embroider'd  King  who  shows  but  half  his  face, 

And  his  refulgent  Queen,  with  pow'rs  combin'd 
Of  broken  troops  an  easy  conquest  find. 
Clubs,  Diamonds,  Hearts,  in  wild  disorder  seen. 
With  throngs  promiscuous  strow  the  level  green.  80 

Thus  when  dispers'd  a  routed  army  runs. 
Of  Asia's  troops,  and  Afric's  sable  sons. 
With  like  confusion  different  nations  fly, 
j  Of  various  habit,  and  of  various  dye, 
^         1  The  pierc'd  battalions  dis-united  fall,  85 

v...'    '  In  heaps  on  heaps  ;  one  fate  o'erwhelms  them  all. 

1  Now  move  to  war,  etc.]  The  whole  idea  *  [Basto:  the  ace  of  clubs,  third  trump  at 
of  this  description  of  a  game  at  Ombre,  is  taken  Ombre.  These  three  principal  trumps  are 
from  Vida's  description  of  a  game  at  chess,  in    called  Matadores.] 

his  poem  intit.  Scacchia  Ludus.     Warburton.         ^  At  certain  games  the  Knave   of  Clubs   is 

2  [Spadillio:    the   ace   of   spades,   the  first    called  Pam.     Chatto. 

trump  at  Ombre.]  ^  \_Lu,  the  game  of  Loo,  in  which  Pant  is  the 

3  [Manillio:    the    deuce    of    trumps    when    highest  card.] 
trumps  are  black,  the  seven  when  they  are  red. 

The  second  trump  at  Ombre.] 


OF  THE  LOCK, 

The  Knave  of  Diamonds  tries  his  wily  arts,     ; 

And  wins  (oh  shameful  chance!)  the  Queen  of  Hearts'. 

At  this,  the  blood  the  virgin's  cheek  forsook, 

A  livid  paleness  spreads  o'er  all  her  look ;  90 

She  sees,  and  trembles  at  th'  approaching  ill, 

Just  in  the  jaws  of  ruin,  and  Codille.^  ^  •■  ■  -^.^J^^^^^^-^OtrJL 

And  now  (as  oft  in  some  distempered  State)    ^■ii^^'Vi^  *<-o_j 

On  one  nice  Trick  depends  the  gen'ral  fate.      ^  ^^^rC^  dJ 

An  Ace  of  Hearts  steps  forth  :  The  King  unseen       ^^^^^^  ^r^^if-^ 

Lurk'd  in  her  hand,  and  mourn'd  his  captive  Queen  :*^>v  c^Ca^  j 

He  springs  to  Vengeance  with  an  eager  pace,  *aj.^ /.  j 

And  falls  like  thunder  on  the  prostrate  ATeT       T/  '"'•t^  <^\ 

f.v^f\M^    (The  nymph  exulting  fills  with  shouts  the  sky;  ^^-^t^vv^    J{j^,  j 

The  walls,  the  woods,  and  long  canals  reply.  loo     *^^ 

I     Oh  thoughtless  mortals  !  ever  blind  to  fate, 
J  7  I  Too  soon  dejected,  and  too  soon  elate.  ^ 

\,^  Sudden,  these  honours  shall  be  snatch'd  away,  ,  ^^  o«^/j 

And  curs'd  for  ever  this  victorious  day.  ^'    h*^  cKjlsA^  • 

For  lo!  the  board  with  cups  and  spoons  is  crown'3, ,'      *  -    105 

The  berries  crackle,  and  the  mill  turns  round ;  '  '^^tr^-^*^ 

On  shining  Altars  of  Japan  they  raise 

The  silver  lamp ;  the  fiery  spirits  blaze  : 

From  silver  spouts  the  grateful  liquors  glide, 

While  China's  earth  receives  the  smoking  tide:  no 

At  once  they  gratify  their  scent  and  taste. 

And  frequent  cups  prolong  the  rich  repast. 

Straight  hover  round  the  Fair  her  airy  band ; 

Some,  as  she  sipp'd  the  fuming  liquor  fann'd, 
I      Some  o'er  her  lap  their  careful  plumes  displayed,  .  115 

''^  Trembling,  and  conscious  of  the  rich  brocade,  '^^^^.jt'^u.^  |   r  ,  , 

Coffee,  (which  makes  the  politician  wise,  . 

And  see  thro'  all  things  with  his  half-shut  eyes)  ^ 

Sent  up  in  vapours  to  the  Baron's  brain 

New  Stratagems,  the  radiant  Lock  to  gain.  1 20 

\        r  Ah  cease,  rash  youth!  desist  ere  't  is  too  late, 
f  ^  ^JFear  the  just  Gods,  and  think  of  Scylla's  Fate!^ 

^    I     Chang'd  to  a  bird,  and  sent  to  flit  in  air. 

She  dearly  pays  for  Nisus'  injur'd  hair! 

'      But  when  to  mischief  mortals  bend  their  will,  125 

*  How  soon  they  find  fit  instruments  of  ill !  ,y^^ 

Just  then,  Clarissa  drew  with  tempting  grace 

A  two-edg'd  weapon  from  her  shining  case : 

So  Ladies  in  Romance  assist  their  Knight, 

Present  the  spear,  and  arm  him  for  the  fight.  130 

He  takes  the  gift  with  rev'rence,  and  extends 

The  little  engine  on  his  fingers'  ends ; 

*  [Codille,  a  term  in  Ombre  and  Quadrille.         2  [Pope,  like  Voltaire,  was  inordinately  ad- 

When  those  who  defend  the  pool  make  more  dieted  to  the  drinking  of  coffee.] 
tricks  than  those  who  defend  the  game,  they  are         *  and  think  of  Scylla's  fate  I^     Vide  Ovid, 

said  to  '  win  the  codille.']  Metam.wii.    P.  »^ 


84  THE  RAPE 

This  just  behind  Belinda's  neck  he  spread, 
As  o'er  the  fragrant  steams  she  bends  her  head. 
Swift  to  the  Lock  a  thousand  Sprites  repair,  135 

A  thousand  wings,  by  turns,  blow  back  the  hair ;   • 
And  thrice  they  twitch'd  the  diamond  in  her  ear ; 
Thrice  she  look'd  back,  and  thrice  the  foe  drew  near. 
Just  in  that  instant,  anxious  Ariel  sought  ,         ^  .^ 

The  close  recesses  of  the  Virgin's  thought ;  ^''^''rj^^^^^iyx^^AP 
As  on  the  nosegay  in  her  breast  reclin'd,       ^^^^aa'^ 
He  watch'd  th'  Ideas  rising  in  her  mind, 
j  Sudden  he  view'd,  in  spite  of  all  her  art, 
I  An  earthly  Lover  lurking  at  her  heart. 

1,  Amaz'd,  confus'd,  he  found  his  pow'r  expir'd,  145 

Resign'd  to  fate,  and  with  a  sigh  retir'd. 

The  Peer  now  spreads  the  glitt'ring  Forfex  wide, 
T'  inclose  the  Lock  ;  now  joins  it,  to  divide. 
Ev'n  then,  before  the  fatal  engine  clos'd, 

A  wretched  Sylph  too  fondly  interpos'd ;  150 

Fate  urg'd  the  shears,  and  cut  the  Sylph  in  twain, 
(But  airy  substance  soon  unites  again)  ^  "*  ^ 

The  meeting  points  the  sacred  hair  dissever  r 

From  the  fair  head,  for  ever,  and  for  ever!  ,jC^^^  ' 

Then  flash'd  the  living  lightning  from  her  eyes,  a^^V*^55 

And  screams  of  horror  rend  th'  affrighted  skies.  ^  ^^  j 
Not  louder  shrieks  to  pitying  heav'n  are  cast,  / 

When  husbands,  or  when  lap-dogs  breathe  their  last  y 
Or  when  rich  China  vessels  falPn  from  high, 
In  glitt'ring  dust  and  painted  fragments  lie!  160 

"  Let  wreaths  of  triumpa  now  my  temples  twine 
(The  victor  cry'd)  the  glorious  Prize  is  mine! 
While  fish  in  streams,  or  birds  delight  in  aii<^7\jn  ^^  ^^^ 
Or  in  a  coach  and  six  the  British  Fair,  ' 

As  long  as  Atalantis  shall  be  read,^  165 

Or  the  small  pillow  grace  a  Lady's  bed, 
While  visits  shall  be  paid  on  solemn  days, 
When  num'rous  wax-lights  in  bright  order  blaze, 
While  nymphs  take  treats,  or  assignations  give, 
So  long  my  honour,  name,  and  praise  shall  live!"  170 

What  Time  would  spare,  from  Steel  receives  its  date, 
And  monuments,  like  men,  submit  to  fate!  * 

Steel  could  the  labour  of  the  Gods  destroy. 
And  strike  to  dust  th'  imperial  tow'rs  of  Troy ; 
Steel  could  the  works  of  mortal  pride  confound,  175 

1  But  airy  substance\      See  Milton,  lib.  vi.  Mrs.  Manley,  a  lady  of  doubtful  reputation,  for 

of  Satan  cut  asunder  by  the  Angel  Michael.     P.  whose  play  of  Lucius  Prior  wrote  a  most  impu- 

^  Atalantis']     A  famous  book  written  about  dent  Epilogue.     As  a  political  journalist  she  co- 

that  time  by  a  woman:  full  of  Court,  and  Party-  operated  with  Swift  and  his  Tory  friends;  and 

scandal;   and  in  a  loose  effeminacy  of  style  and  both  Swift  and  Smollett  were  as  novelists  under 

sentiment,   which    well   suited    the   debauched  real  obligations  to  her  /Veiv  Atalantis.      She 

taste  of  the  better  Vulgar.     Warburton,     [By  died  in  1724.] 


OF  THE  LOCK.  85 

And  hew  triumphal  arches  to  the  ground. 

What  wonder  then,  fair  nymph !  thy  hairs  should  feel, 

The  conquVing  force  of  unresisted  steel  ? 

CANTO  IV. 

But  anxious  cares  the  pensive  nymph  oppressed, 

And  secret  passions  laboured  in  her  breast. 

Not  youthful  kings  in  battle  seizM  alive, 

Not  scornful  virgins  who  their  charms  survive, 

Not  ardent  lovers  robbM  of  all  their  bliss,  5 

Not  ancient  ladies  when  refus'd  a  kiss, 

Not  tyrants  fierce  that  unrepenting  die. 

Not  Cynthia  when  her  manteau  's  pinn'd  awry, 

E'er  felt  such  rage,  resentment,  and  despair, 

As  thou,  sad  Virgin,!  for  thy  ^ayish^  Hair.  10 

For,  that  sa^fiToment,  when  tti'e  Sylphs  withdrew 
And  Ariel  weeping  from  Belinda  flew,  i    » 

Umbriel,  a  dusky,  melancholy  sprite,  -  M>vJ  €^Jl^y<Lt  ^    ^'VL  ^^ 
As  ever  sully'd  the  fair  face  of  light,  '   Jhi)^  ^j 

Down  to  the  central  earth,  his  proper  scene,  U  ^''•■^^^V**  15 

Repair'd  to  search  the  gloomy  Cave  of  Spleen. 

Swift  on  his  sooty  pinions  flits  the  Gnome, 
And  in  a  vapour  reach'd  the  dismal  dome. 
No  cheerful  breeze  this  sullen  region  knows, 
The  dreaded  East  is  all  the  wind  that  blows.  20 

Here  in  a  grotto,  shelter^  close  from  air. 
And  screened  in  shades  from  day's  detested  glare. 
She  sighs  for  ever  on  her  pensive  bed. 
Pain  at  her  side,  and  Megrim  at  her  head.^ 
^  Two  handmaids  wait  the  throne :  alike  in  place,  25 

But  difT'ring  far  in  figure  and  in  face. 

Here  stood  Ill-nature  like  an  ancient  maid,  .    ^ 

Her  wrinkled  form  in  black  and  white  array'd ;    r>yy#^c^iT^ 
With  store  of  pray'rs,  for  mornings,  nights,  and  nocms. 
Her  hand  is  fill'd ;  her  bosom  with  lampoons.  30 

There  Affectation,  with  a  sickly  mien, 
Shows  in  her  cheek  the  roses  of  eighteen, 
Practised  to  lisp,  and  hang  the  head  aside, 
Faints  into  airs,  and  languishes  with  pride, 

On  the  rich  quilt  sinks  with  becoming  woe,  35 

^Wrapt  in  a  gown,  for  sickness,  and  for  show. 
jThe  fair  ones  feel  such  maladies  as  these. 
When  each  new  night-dress  gives  a  new  disease. 

A  constant  Vapour  o'er  the  palace  flies  ; 
Strange  phantoms  rising  as  the  mists  arise ;  40 

Dreadful,  as  hermit's  dreams  in  haunted  shades. 
Or  bright,  as  visions  of  expiring  maids. 

1  [Megrim  (migraine)  from  r]fii.Kpavid.] 


86 


THE  RAPE 


4^: 


^■ 


^/ 


q^f^ 


Now  glaring  fiends,  and  snakes  on  rolling  spires, 
Pale  spectres,  gaping  tombs,  and  purple  fires : 
Now  lakes  of  liquid  gold,  Elysian  scenes, 
And  crystal  domes,  and  angels  in  machines. 

Unnumber'd  throngs  on  every  side  are  seen, 
Of  bodies  changM  to  various  forms  by  Spleen. 
Here  living  Tea-pots  stand,  one  arm  held  out, 
One  bent ;  the  handle  this,  and  that  the  spout : 
A  Pipkin  there,  like  Homer's  Tripod  walks ; 
Here  sighs  a  Jar,  and  there  a  Goose-pie  talks  ;  ^ 
Men  prove  with  child,  as  powerful  fancy  works, 
And  maids  turnM  bottles,  call  aloud  for  corks. 

Safe  past  the  Gnome  thro'  this  fantastic  band, 
A  branch  of  healing  Spleenwort  in  his  hand.^ 
Then  thus  addressed  the  pow'r :  "  Hail,  wayward  Queen! 
Who  rule  the  sex  to  fifty  from  fifteen : 
Parent  of  vapours  and  of  female  wit, 
Who  give  th'  hysteric,  or  poetic  fit. 
On  various  tempers  act  by  various  ways, 
Make  some  take  physic,  others  scribble  plays ; 
^  Who  cause  the  proud  their  visits  to  delay. 
And  send  the  godly  in  a  pet  to  pray. 
A  nymph  there  is,  that  all  thy  pow'r  disdains. 
And  thousands  more  in  equal  mirth  maintains. 
But  oh!  if  e'er  thy  Gnome  could  spoil  a  grace. 
Or  raise  a  pimple  on  a  beauteous  face. 


4S 


50 


55 


60 


Like  Citron-waters  matrons  cheeks  inflame,®       g^ci^k^AJ^L 
Or  change  complexions  at  a  losing  game ;  ^     v       70 

If  e'er  with  airy  horns  I  planted  heads. 
Or  rumpled  petticoats,  or  tumbled  beds. 
Or  caus'd  suspicion  when  no  soul  was  rude, 
Or  discompos'd  the  head-dress  of  a  Prude, 
Or  e'er  to  costive  lap-dog  gave  disease,  75 

Which  not  the  tears  of  brightest  eyes  could  ease : 
I  Hear  me,  and  touch  Belinda  with  chagrin, 
[  That  single  act  gives  half  the  world  the  spleen." 
The  Goddess  with  a  discontented  air 
Seems  to  reject  him,  tho'  she  grants  his  pray'r.  80 

A  wond'rous  Bag  with  both  her  hands  she  binds, 
Like  that  where  once  Ulysses  held  the  winds ; 
There  she  collects  the  force  of  female  lungs. 
Sighs,  sobs,  and  passions,  and  the  war  of  tongues. 
A  Vial  next  she  fills  with  fainting  fears,  85 

Soft  sorrows,  melting  griefs,  and  flowing  tears. 
The  Gnome  rejoicing  bears  her  gifts  away. 
Spreads  his  black  wings,  and  slowly  mounts  to  day. 

1  Alludes  to  a  real  fact;  a  lad/  of  distinction         3  [As  to  this  fashionable  indulgence  cf.  Moral 
imagined  herself  in  this  condition.     P.  Ess,  Ep.  ii.  v.  64.] 

2  [Spleenwort  (ajr//^«Z(?«),miltwaste.  John- 
son.\ 


OF  THE  LOCK,  87 

Sunk  in  Thalestris'  arms  the  nymph  he  found, 
Her  eyes  dejected  and  her  hair  unbound.  90 

Full  o'er  their  heads  the  swelling  bag  he  rent, 
And  all  the  Furies  issu'd  at  the  vent. 
Belinda  burns  with  more  than  mortal  ire, 
And  fierce  Thalestris  fans  the  rising  fire. 

" O  wretched  maid!"  she  spread  her  hands,  and  cry'd,  95 

(While  Hampton's  echoes,  "Wretched  maid!"  reply'd) 
"  Was  it  for  this  you  took  such  constant  care 
The  bodkin,  comb,  and  essence  to  prepare  ? 
For  this  your  locks  in  paper  durance  bound, 

For  this  with  tort'ring  irons  wreath'd  around?  100 

For  this  with  fillets  strain'd  your  tender  head, 
And  bravely  bore  the  double  loads  of  lead? 
Gods !  shall  the  ravisher  display  your  hair. 
While  the  Fops  envy,  and  the  Ladies  stare! 
Honour  forbid!  at  whose  unrivalPd  shrine  105 

Ease,  pleasure,  virtue,  all  our  sex  resign. 
'  -^    ;       Methinks  already  I  your  tears  survey,  ^  t 

Already  hear  the  horrid  things  they  say,  { 

Already  see  you  a  degraded  toast. 

And  all  your  honour  in  a  whisper  lost!  .  ^  Iio 

i  How  shall  I,  then,  your  helpless  fame  defend? I   o^ 
1  'T  will  then  be  infamy  to  seem  your  friend !     > 
And  shall  this  prize,  th'  inestimable  prize, 
Expos'd  thro'  crystal  to  the  gazing  eyes, 

And  heighten'd  by  the  diamond's  circling  rays,  1 15 

On  that  rapacious  hand  for  ever  blaze  ? 
Sooner  shall  grass  in  Hyde-park  Circus  grow, 
And  wits  take  lodgings  in  the  sound  of  Bow ; 
Sooner  let  earth,  air,  sea,  to  Chaos  fall. 

Men,  monkeys,  lap;_dpgs,  parrots,  perish  all!"  120 

""She  said ;  then  raging  t^  Sir  Plume  repairs,^ 
And  bids  her  Beau  demand  the  precious  hairs : 
(Sir  Plume  of  amber  snuff-box  justly  vain. 
And  the  nice  conduct  of  a  clouded  cane) 

With  earnest  eyes,  and  round  unthinking  face,       MJ'    \^      125 
He  first  the  snuff-box  open'd,  then  the  case, 
And  thus  broke  out  —  "  My  Lord,  why,  what  the  devil  ? 
Z— ds!  damn  the  lock!  'fore  Gad,  you  must  be  civil! 
Plague  on  't!  't  is  past  a  jest  —  nay  prithee,  pox! 
Give  her  the  hair"  —  he  spoke,  and  rapp'd  his  box.  130 

"  It  grieves  me  much  "  (reply'd  the  Peer  again) 
"  Who  speaks  so  well  should  ever  speak  in  vain. 

*  Sir  Plume  repairs^  Sir  George  Brown.         [*  If  you  wanted  to  have  him  act  so,'  Kestner 

He  was  the  only  one  of  the  Party  who  took  the  wrote  to  Goethe  concerning  his  own  portraiture 

thing  seriously.     He  was  angry,  that  the  Poet  as  Albert  in  Werther,  *  need  you  have  made 

should  make  him   talk  nothing  but  nonsense;  him  such  a  blockhead? 'J 
and,  in  truth,  one  could  not  well  blame  him. 

WarburtoH, 


e,    ,S  \f     V. 


\ 


88  THE  RAPE 

But  by  this  Lock,  this  sacred  Lock  I  swear, 
\  V  (Which  never  more  shall  join  its  parted  hair; 

\  j^'  Which  never  more  its  honours  shall  renew,  135 

Clipp'd  from  the  lovely  head  where  late  it  grew) 
That  while  my  nostrils  draw  the  vital  air. 
This  hand,  which  won  it,  shall  for  ever  wear." 
He  spoke,  and  speaking,jin  proud  triumph  spread 
The  long-contended  horiOurs  of  her  head.  140 

But  Umbriel,  hateful  Gnome!  forbears  not  ^^k^^A%h 
He  breaks  the  Vial  whence  the  sorrows  flow.     KjiXS'-^^^ 
Then  see!  the  nymph  in  beauteous  grief  appears, 
Her  eyes  half-languishing,  half-drown'd  in  tears ; 
On  her  heav'd  bosom  hung  her  drooping  head,  145 

Which,  with  a  sigh,  she  rais'd  ;  and  thus  she  said. 

"  For  ever  cursM  be  this  detested  day. 
Which  snatchM  my  best,  my  fav'rite  curl  away! 
Happy!  ah  ten  times  happy  had  I  been. 

If  Hampton-Court  these  eyes  had  never  seen!  150 

^j^  /  Yet  am  not  I  the  first  mistaken  maid, 
V       S     By  love  of  Courts  to  num'rous  ills  betray'd. 
Oh  had  I  rather  un-admir'd  remainM 
In  some  lone  isle,  or  distant  Northern  land ; 
Where  the  gilt  Chariot  never  marks  the  way,  155 

Where  none  learn  Ombre,  none  e'er  taste  Boheal 
There  kept  my  charms  concealed  from  mortal  eye. 
Like  roses,  that  in  deserts  bloom  and  die. 
What  mov'd  my  mind  with  youthful  Lords  to  roam  ? 
Oh  had  I  stay'd,  and  said  my  pray'rs  at  home!  160 

'T  was  this,  the  morning  omens  seem'd  to  tell. 
Thrice  from  my  trembling  hand  the  patch-box  fell ; 
The  tott'ring  China  shook  without  a  wind, 
Nay,  Poll  sat  mute,  and  Shock  was  most  unkind! 
A  Sylph  too  warn'd  me  of  the  threats  of  fate,  1 65 

In  mystic  visions,  now  believed  too  late! 
See  the  poor  remnants  of  these  slighted  hairs! 
My  hands  shall  rend  what  ev'n  thy  rapine  spares : 
These  in  two  sable  ringlets  taught  to  break, 
Once  gave  new  beauties  to  the  snowy  neck ;  170 

The  sister-lock  now  sits  uncouth,  alone, 
And  in  its  fellow's  fate  foresees  its  own ; 
UncurPd  it  hangs,  the  fatal  shears  demands, 
And  tempts  once  more  thy  sacrilegious  hands. 
Oh  hadst  thou,  cruel!  been  content  to  seize  175 

Hairs  less  in  sight,  or  any  hairs  but  these! " 

CANTO  V. 

She  said :  the  pitying  audience  melt  in  tears. 
But  Fate  and  Jove  had  stopp'd  the  Baron's  ears. 
In  vain  Thalestris  with  reproach  assails, 


OF  THE  LOCK.  89 

For  who  can  move  when  fair  Belinda  fails? 

Not  half  so  fix'd  the  Trojan  could  remain,  5 

While  Anna  begg'd  and  Dido  rag'd  in  vain.^ 

Then  grave  Clarissa  graceful  wav'd  her  fan ; 

Silence  ensu'd,  and  thus  the  nymph  began. 

"  Say  why  are  Beauties  prais'd  and  honoured  most, 
The  wise  man's  passion,  and  the  vain  man's  toast  ?       ^         10 
Why  deck'd  with  all  that  land  and  sea  afford. 
Why  Angels  call'd,  and  Angel-like  ador'd  ? 
Why  round  our  coaches  crowd  the  white-glov'd  Beaux, 
Why  bows  the  side-box  from  its  inmost  rows ; 
How  vain  are  all  these  glories,  all  our  pains,  15 

Unless  good  sense  preserve  what  beauty  gains  : 
That  men  may  say,  when  we  the  front-box  grace : 
*  Behold  the  first  in  virtue  as  in  face!' 
Oh!  if  to  dance  all  night,  and  dress  all  day, 
Charm'd  the  small-pox,  or  chas'd  old-age  away ;  20 

Who  would  not  scorn  what  housewife's  cares  produce, 
Or  who  would  learn  one  earthly  thing  of  use? 
To  patch,  nay  ogle,  might  become  a  Saint, 

j  Nor  could  it  sure  be  such  a  sin  to  paint. 
^        \  But  since,  alas!  frail  beauty  must  decay,  25 

V^'         1  CurPd  or  uncurl'd,  since  Locks  will  turn  to  grey; 
y  \  Since  painted,  or  not  painted,  all  shall  fade, 

j  And  she  who  scorns  a  man,  must  die  a  maid ; 
What  then  remains  but  well  our  pow'r  to  use, 

I  And  keep  good-humour  still  whate'er  we  lose  ?  30 

And  trust  me,  dear!  good-humour  can  prevail. 
When  airs,  and  flights,  and  screams,  and  scolding  fail. 
Beauties  in  vain  their  pretty  eyes  may  roll ; 

,  Charms  strike  the  sight,  but  merit  wins  the  soul." 

\     So  spoke  the  Dame,  but  no  applause  ensu'd ;  35 

gelinda  frown'd,  Thalestris  call'd  her  Prude. 

^mTo  arms,  to  arms!"  the  fierce  Virago  cries, 

And  swift  as  lightning  to  the  combat  flies. 

All  side  in  parties,  and  begin  th'  attack ; 

Fans  clap,  silks  rustle,  and  tough  whalebones  crack ;  40 

Heroes'  and  Heroines'  shouts  confus'dly  rise. 

And  bass,  and  treble  voices  strike  the  skies. 

No  common  weapons  in  their  hands  are  found, 

Like  Gods  they  fight,  nor  dread  a  mortal  wound. 

So  when  bold  Homer  makes  the  Gods  engage,^  45 

And  heav'nly  breasts  with  human  passions  rage ; 
'Gainst  Pallas,  Mars  ;  Latona,  Hermes  arms  ; 
And  all  Olympus  rings  with  loud  alarms : 
Jove's  thunder  roars,  heav'n  trembles  all  around. 
Blue  Neptune  storms,  the  bellowing  deeps  resound  :  50 

Earth  shakes  her  nodding  tow'rs,  the  ground  gives  way, 

*  [Virg.  Mn.  iv.  v.  330.]  ^  So  when  bold  Homer]  Homer,  //.  xx.    P. 


y 


\/ 


90  THE  RAPE 

And  the  pale  ghosts  start  at  the  flash  of  day ! 

Triumphant  Umbriel  on  a  sconce's  height 
Clapp'd  his  glad  wings,  and  sate  to  view  the  fight : 
Propp'd  on  their  bodkin  spears,  the  Sprites  survey  55 

The  growing  combat,  or  assist  the  fray. 

While  thro'  the  press  enrag'd  Thalestris  flies, 
And  scatters  death  around  from  both  her  eyes, 
A  Beau  and  Witling  perish'd  in  the  throng. 
One  died  in  metaphor,  and  one  in  song.  60 

"  O  cruel  nymph !  a  living  death  I  bear," 
Cry'd  Dapperwit,  and  sunk  beside  his  chair. 
A  mournful  glance  Sir  Fopling  upwards  cast, 
"  Those  eyes  are  made  so  killing  "  —  was  his  last. 
Thus  on  Maeander's  flow'ry  margin  lies  65 

Th'  expiring  Swan,  and  as  he  sings  he  dies. 

When  bold  Sir  Plume  had  drawn  Clarissa  down, 
Chloe  stepp'd  in,  and  kill'd  him  with  a  frown ; 
She  smil'd  to  see  the  doughty  hero  slain. 
But,  at  her  smile,  the  Beau  reviv'd  again.  70 

Now  Jove  suspends  his  golden  scales  in  air, 
Weighs  the  Men's  wits  against  the  Lady's  hair; 
^^    The  doubtful  beam  long  nods  from  side  to  side ; 
At  length  the  wits  mount  up,  the  hairs  subside. 

See,  fierce  Belinda  on  the  Baron  flies,  75 

\  \  V       With  more  than  usual  lightning  in  her  eyes  : 
t  *  Nor  fear'd  the  Chief  th'  unequal  fight  to  try. 

Who  sought  no  more  than  on  his  foe  to  die. 
But  this  bold  Lord  with  manly  strength  endu'd, 
She  with  one  finger  and  a  thumb  subdu'd  :  80 

Just  where  the  breath  of  life  his  nostrils  drew, 
A  charge  of  Snuff*  the  wily  virgin  threw ; 
The  Gnomes  direct,  to  ev'ry  atom  just. 
The  pungent  grains  of  titillating  dust. 

Sudden,  with  starting  tears  each  eye  o'erflows,  85 

And  the  high  dome  re-echoes  to  his  nose. 

"  Now  meet  thy  fate,"  incens'd  Belinda  cry'd, 
And  drew  a  deadly  bodkin  from  her  side. 
(The  same,  his  ancient  personage  to  deck, 
.  ^^■;,  ^.,        -  Her  great  great  grandsire  wore  about  his  neck,  90 

*  ^*'Q  Q    \bvTi     I^  three  seal-rings  ;  which  after,  melted  down, 
i^  V#^  Form'd  a  vast  buckle  for  his  widow's  gown : 

Her  infant  grandame's  whistle  next  it  grew, 
The  bells  she  jingled,  and  the  whistle  blew ; 
Then  in  a  bodkin  grac'd  her  mother's  hairs,  95 

Which  long  she  wore,  and  now  Belinda  wears.) 

"  Boast  not  my  fall "  (he  cry'd)  "  insulting  foe! 
Thou  by  some  other  shalt  be  laid  as  low, 
^  '  Nor  think,  to  die  dejects  my  lofty  mind  : 

Vj^  All  that  I  dread  is  leaving  you  behind!  lOO 

Rather  than  so,  ah  let  me  still  survive, 


v^ 

cr 


^ 


OF  THE  LOCK. 


91 


And  burn  in  Cupid's  flames  —  but  burn  alive." 

"  Restore  the  Lock !  "  she  cries  ;  and  all  around 
"Restore  the  Lock!"  the  vaulted  roofs  rebound. 
'Not  fierce  Othello  in  so  loud  a  strain  105 

Roar'd  for  the  handkerchief  that  causM  his  pain. 
But  see  how  oft  ambitious  aims  are  cross'd, 
And  chiefs  contend  'till  all  the  prize  is  lost! 
The  Lock,  obtain'd  with  guilt,  and  kept  with  pain, 
In  evVy  place  is  sought,  but  sought  in  vain :  no 

With  such  a  prize  no  mortal  must  be  blest, 
---So  heav'n  decrees!  with  heav'n  who  can  contest? 
V      Some  thought  it  mounted  to  the  Lunar  sphere, 
-^ince  all  things  lost  on  earth  are  treasured  there. ^ 
(  There  Heros'  wits  are  kept  in  ponderous  vases,  115 

j  And  beaux'  in  snuff-boxes  and  tweezer-cases. 
-'  There  broken  vows  and  death-bed  alms  are  found, 
And  lovers'  hearts  with  ends  of  riband  bound,  ^ 

The  courtier's  promises,  and  sick  man's  pray'rs. 
The  smiles  of  harlots,  and  the  tears  of  heirs,  120 

Cages  for  gnats,  and  chains  to  yoke  a  flea, 
Dry'd  butterflies,  and  tomes  of  casuistry. 

But  trust  the  Muse  —  she  saw  it  upward  rise, 
Tho'  mark'd  by  none  but  quick,  poetic  eyes : 
(So  Rome's  great  founder  to  the  heav'ns  withdrew,  125 

To  Proculus  alone  confess'd  in  view) 
A  sudden  Star,  it  shot  thro'  liquid  air, 
And  drew  behind  a  radiant  trail  of  hair. 
Not  Berenice's  Locks  first  rose  so  bright. 
The  heav'ns  bespangling  with  dishevell'd  light.  130 

The  Sylphs  behold  it  kindling  as  it  flies. 
And  pleas'd  pursue  its  progress  thro'  the  skies. 

This  the  Beau  monde  shall  from  the  Mall  survey,* 
And  hail  with  music  its  propitious  ray. 

This  the  blest  Lover  shall  for  Venus  take,  135 

And  send  up  vows  from  Rosamonda's  lake. 
'""jThis  Partridge  soon  shall  view  in  cloudless  skies,* 
iWhen  next  he  looks  thro'  Galileo's  eyes ; 
And  hence  th'  egregious  wizard  shall  foredoom 
C  The  fate  of  Louis,  and  the  fall  of  Rome.  140 

Then  cease,  bright  Nymph!  to  mourn  thy  ravish'd  hair. 
Which  adds  new  glory  to  the  shining  sphere! 
Not  all  the  tresses  that  fair  head  can  boast, 
Shall  draw  such  envy  as  the  Lock  you  lost. 

*  Since  all  things  lost]    Vid.  Ariosto.    Canto  of  the  Pope,  and  the  King  of  France,  then  at  war 
xxxiv.     P.                                                               .  with  the  English.     P.     [Partridge  was  the  butt 

*  [The  evening  was  the  time  for  walking  in  of  the  entire  coterie  of  Swift's  friends,  since  the 
the  Mall,  on  the  north  side  of  St.  James'  Park.]  publication  of  Swift's  immortal  prediction  of  the 

'  This  Partridge  soon]  John  Partridge  was    prophet's  own  death,  put  forth  under  the  name 
a  ridiculous  Star-gazer,  who  in  his  Almanacks    of  BickerstafT  in  1707.] 
every  year  never  fail'd  to  predict  the  downfall 


92 


THE  RAPE  OF  THE  LOCK, 


For,  after  all  the  murders  of  your  eye, 

When  after  millions  slain,  yourself  shall  die : 

When  those  fair  suns  shall  set,  as  set  they  must,  "l^^^i^^^-^^^ 

And  all  those  tresses  shall  be  laid  in  dust,       >  \^->r^    ^iaJU 

This  Lock,  the  Muse  shall  consecrate  to  fame, 

And  'midst  the  stars  inscribe  Belinda's  name.  150 


IMITATIONS. 


Canto  I. 

Ver.  54,  55.  *  Quae  gratia  currum 

Armorumque  fuit  vivis,  quae  cura  nitentes 
Pascere  equos,  eadera  sequitur  tellure  repostos.' 
Virg.  Mn.  vi.     P.     [vv.  65-35,] 

Ver.  loi. 
'  Jam  clypeus  clypeis,  umbone  repellitur  umbo, 
Ense  minax  ensis,  pede  pes  et  cuspide  cus- 
pis,'  etc.  Stat.     Warburton. 

Canto  II. 
Ver.  28.     With  a  single  kair."]    In  allusion 
to  those  lines  of  Hudibras,  applied  to  the  same 
purpose, 

*  And  tho'  it  be  a  two-foot  Trout, 
*T  is  with  a  single  hair  pull'd  out.' 

Warburton. 

Ver.  45.    The  Pow'rs  gave  ear.]  Virg.  yEn. 
xi.    P.     [vv.  794-5] 

Ver.  119. 
—  *  clypei  dominus  septetnpiicis  Ajax.*    Ovid, 
Warburton.     \Metam.  lib.  xiii.  v.  2.] 

Ver.  121.  About  the  silver  bound.].  In  allu- 
sion to  the  shield  of  Achilles, 

*  Thus  the  broad  shield    complete  the  Artist 

crown'd. 
With  his  last  band,  and  pour'd  the  Ocean  round: 
In  living  Silver  seem'd  the  waves  to  roll. 
And  beat  the  Buckler's  verge,  and  bound  the 

•whole.'     Warburton.       [//zVidf  bk.  xviii.] 

Canto  III. 
Ver.  loi. 

*  Nescia  mens  hominum  fati  sortisque  futurae, 
Et  servare  modum,  rebus  sublata  secundis ! 
Turno  tempus  erit,  magno  cum  optaverit  emp- 

tum 
Intactum  Pallanta ;  et  cum  spolia  ista  diemque 
Oderit.'     Virg.     Warburton.     [./En.  x.  501- 
5.] 

Ver.  163,  170. 

*  Dum  juga  montis  apcr,   fluvios  dum  piscis 

aunabit, 


Semper  honos,  nomenque  tuum  laudesque  mane- 
bunt.*     Firg.  Warburton.    [£cl.  v.  76,  8.] 
Ver.  177. 

*  Ille  quoque  aversus  mons  est,  etc. 

Quid  faciant  crines,  cum  ferro  talia  cedant?  * 
Catull.  de  com.  Berenices, 

Canto  IV. 

Ver.  I.    Virg.  u^n.  iv.     [v.  i.] 

*  At  regina  gravi,'  etc.    P. 

Ver.  51.  Homer's  Tripod  walks;]  See 
Hom.  Iliad  xviii.  of  Vulcan's  walking  Tripods. 
Warburton. 

Ver.  133.  But  by  this  Lock,]  In  allusion  to 
Achilles's  oath  in  Homer,  //.  i.    P. 

Canto  V. 

Ver.  35.  So  spake  the  Dame.]  It  is  a  verse 
frequently  repeated  in  Homer  after  any  speech, 

*  So  spoke  —  and  all  the  Heroes  applauded.*     P. 

Ver.  53.  Triumphant  Umbriel]  Minerva 
in  like  manner,  during  the  battle  of  Ulysses 
with  the  Suitors  in  Odyss.  perches  on  a  beam 
of  the  roof  to  behold  it.     P. 

Ver.  64.  Those  eyes  are  made  so  killing.] 
The  words  of  a  Song  in  the  Opera  of  Camilla. 

P. 

Ver.  65.  Thus  on  Mceander" s flow' ry  m.ar- 
gin  lies] 

*  Sic  ubi  fata  vocant,  udis  abjectus  in  herbis, 

Ad  vada  Maeandri  concinit  albus  olor.' 

Ov.  Ep.     P.     [Heroid.  Ep.  vii.  v.  2.] 
Ver.  72.    Vid.  Homer  //.  viii  and  Virg.  jEn. 
xii.    P. 

Ver.  83.  The  Gnomes  direct,]  These  two 
lines  added  for  the  above  reason.     P. 

Ver.  89.  The  same,  his  ancient  personage 
to  deck,]  In  imitation  of  the  progress  of  Aga- 
memnon's sceptre  in  Homer,  //.  ii.    P. 

Ver.  128. 

*  Flammiferumque  trahens  spatioso  limits  crinem 
Stella  micat.'  Ovid.  P.    [Metam.  lib. 

XV.  vv.  849-50.] 


ELEGY  TO  AN  UNFORTUNATE  LADY.  95 

VARIATIONS. 

Canto  II.  which  connected  thus:  Sudden  the  board,  etc. 

Ver.  4.    Launched  on  the  bosom.'\     From  ' 

hence  the  poem  continues,  in  the  first  edition,         Ver.  135-147,  150-3.    Added  afterwards,  P. 

to  V.  46,  [And  so  to  the  end,  wherever  the  Sylphs  are 

The  rest  the  winds  dispers'd  in  empty  air;  introduced  or  referred  to.] 
all  after,  to  the  end  of  this  Canto,  being  addi-  Canto  V. 

tional.    P.  __  _,  ^,      .  n     . 

Ver.  7.    Then  g^rave  Clarissa,  etc.]    Anew 

Canto  III.  Character  introduced  in  the  subsequent  Edi- 

Ver.  24.  And  the  long  labours  of  the  Toilet    tions,  to  open  more  clearly  the  Moral  of  the 

cease. ^    AH  that  follows  of  the  same  at  Ombre,    Poem,  in  a  parody  of  the  speech  of  Sarpedon  to 

was  added  since  the  first  Edition,  till  v.  105,    Glaucus  in  Homer.    P.  \Iliad.  bk.  xii.J 

ELEGY 


MEMORY  OF  AN  UNFORTUNATE  LADY.i 

[This  Elegy  was  first  published  in  17 17,  but  doubtless  written  earlier.  After  endless 
enquiries  and  conjectures  as  to  the  '  Unfortunate  Lady '  had  failed  in  fixing  her  identity, 
it  was  pointed  out  that  in  certain  letters  of  Pope,  described  by  him  in  the  table,  of 
contents  as  relating  to  an  '  Unfortunate  Lady,'  we  are  introduced  to  a  Mrs.  W.  who 
had  endured  a  series  of  hardships  and  misfortunes.  This  Mrs.  W.  has  been  proved 
to  have  been  a  Mrs.  Weston  (by  birth  a  Miss  Gage,  the  sister  of  the  first  Viscount  Gage 
and  of  the  '  modest  Gage '  of  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  III.  v.  128) ,  M'ho  was  soon  after  her 
marriage  separated  from  her  husband.  Her  case  was  warmly  taken  up  by  Pope,  by 
whose  aid  the  quarrel  was  adjusted,  though  with  small  thanks  to  him  for  interposing. 
'  Buckingham's  lines,'  says  Carruthers,  who  discusses  the  question  at  length  in  his  Life 
of  Pope,  Ch.  II.,  '  suggested  the  outline  of  the  picture,  Mrs.  Weston's  misfortunes  and 
the  poet's  admiration  of  her  gave  it  life  and  warmth,  and  imagination  did  the  restj 
But  even  if  the  situation  upon  which  the  poem  is  based  were  real  instead  of  fictitious, 
Dr.  Johnson's  accusation  against  it  as  attempting  a  defence  of  suicide  would  remain 
unwarranted.  In  execution  this  elegy  ranks  with  Pope's  most  consummate  efforts,  in 
pathetic  power  it  stands  almost  alone  among  his  works.] 

WHAT  beckoning  ghost,  along  the  moon-light  shade 
Invites  my  steps,  and  points  to  yonder  glade? 
'T  is  she!  —  but  why  that  bleeding  bosom  gor'd, 
Why  dimly  gleajns  the  visionary  sword  ? 

1  See  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  verses  to  a  Tonson's  Miscellany  for  1709,  when  he  was  in 

Lady  designing  to  retire  into  a  Monastery  com-  his  sixtieth  year  and  married  to  his  third  wife ! 

pared  with  Mr.  Pope's  Letters  to  several  Ladies,  They  were,  most  likely,  a  much  earlier  produc- 

p.  206  [86].     She  seems  to  be  the  same  person  tion,  and  this  renders  it  in  the  highest  degree 

whose  unfortunate  death  is  the  subject  of  this  improbable  that  the  same  lady  should  have  also 

poem.    P.     If  this  note  was  written  by  Pope  (of  been  commemorated  by  Pope,  who  was  thirty- 

which  we  have   strong  doubts),  it  must  have  seven  years  younger  than  his  friend.     Carrw 

been  written  purely  for  mystification  and  decep-  thers. 
tion.    The  Duke's  verses  were  first  published  in 


^^  ELEGY  TO  AN  UNFORTUNATE  LADY, 

Oh  ever  beauteous,  ever  friendly !  tell, 

Is  it,  in  heav'n,  a  crime  to  love  too  well? 

To  bear  too  tender,  or  too  firm  a  heart, 

To  act  a  Lover's,  or  a  Roman's  part  ? 

Is  there  no  bright  reversion  in  the  sky. 

For  those  who  greatly  think,  or  bravely  die?  lo 

Why  bade  ye  else,  ye  Pow'rs !  her  soul  aspire 
Above  the  vulgar  flight  of  low  desire? 
Ambition  first  sprung  from  your  blest  abodes ; 
The  glorious  fault  of  Angels  and  of  Gods  ; 
Thence  to  their  images  on  earth  it  flows, 
And  in  the  breasts  of  Kings  and  Heroes  glows. 
)  Most  souls,  't  is  true,  but  peep  out  once  an  age, 
j  Dull  sullen  prisoners  in  the  body's  cage : 
^  7        1  Dim  lights  of  life,  that  burn  a  length  of  years 
^     '        \  Useless,  unseen,  as  lamps  in  sepulchres ;  20 

-^^  Like  Eastern  Kings,  a  lazy  state  they  keep. 

And  close  confin'd  to  their  own  palace,  sleep. 

From  these  perhaps  (ere  nature  bade  her  die^) 
Fate  snatch'd  her  early  to  the  pitying  sky. 
)As  into  air  the  purer  spirits  flow. 
And  separate  from  their  kiadred  dregs  below ; 
So  flew  the  soul  to  its  congenial  place. 
Nor  left  one  virtue  to  redeem  her  Race. 

But  thou,  false  guardian  of  a  charge  too  good. 
Thou,  mean  deserter  of  thy  brother's  b'ood!  30 

See  on  these  ruby  lips  the  trembling  breath. 
These  cheeks  now  fading  at  the  blast  of  death : 
Cold  is  that  breast  which  warm'd  the  world  before, 
And  those  love-darting  eyes  must  roll  no  more. 
Thus,  if  Eternal  justice  rules  the  ball. 
Thus  shall  your  wives,  and  thus  your  children  fall ; 
On  all  the  line  a  sudden  vengeance  waits. 
And  frequent  herses  shall  besiege  your  gates. 
There  passengers  shall  stand,  and  pointing  say, 
(While  the  long  fun'rals  blacken  all  the  way)  40 

"  Lo  these  were  they,  whose  souls  the  Furies  steel'd, 
And  curs'd  with  hearts  unknowing  how  to  yield." 
TJius  unlamented  pass  the  proud  away. 
The  gaze  of  fools,  and  pageant  of  a  day ! 
So  perish  all,  whose  breast  ne'er  learn'd  to  glow 
For  others  good,  or  melt  at  others  ^woe. 

What  can  atone  (oh  ever-injur'd'  shade !) 
Thy  fate  unpity'd,  and  thy  rites  unpaid  ? 
No  friend's  complaint,  no  kind  domestic  tear 
Pleas'd  thy  pale  ghost,  or  grac'd  thy  mournful  bier.  50 

By  foreign  hands  thy  dying  eyes  were  clos'd. 
By  foreign  hands  thy  decent  limbs  compos'd, 

*  [Compare  Byron's  Childe  Harold,  canto  iv.  stanza  ciL] 


I 


PROLOGUE  TO   CATO.  95 

By  foreign  hands  thy  humble  grave  adorn'd, 

By  strangers  honourM,  and  by  strangers  mourn'd! 

What  tho'  no  friends  in  sable  weeds  appear, 

Grieve  for  an  hour,  perhaps,  then  mourn  a  year, 

And  bear  about  the  mockery  of  woe 

To  midnight  dances,  and  the  public  show? 

What  tho'  no  weeping  Loves  thy  ashes  grace, 

Nor  polish^  marble  emulate  thy  face  ?  ^  60 

What  tho'  no  sacred  earth  allow  thee  room, 

Nor  hallow'd  dirge  be  muttered  o'er  thy  tomb  ? 

Yet  shall  thy  grave  with  rising  flowVs  be  drest, 

And  the  green  turf  lie  lightly  on  thy  breast : 

There  shall  the  morn  her  earliest  tears  bestow, 

There  the  first  roses  of  the  year  shall  blow ; 

While  Angels  with  their  silver  wings  o'ershade 

The  ground,  now  sacred  by  thy  reliques  made. 

So  peaceful  rests,  without  a  stone,  a  name, 
What  once  had  beauty,  titles,  wealth,  and  fame.  70 

How  lov'd,  how  honoured  once,  avails  thee  not, 
To  whom  related,  or  by  whom  begot ; 
A  heap  of  dust  alone  remains  of  thee, 
'T  is  all  thou  art,  and  all  the  proud  shall  be! 

Poets  themselves  must  fall,  like  those  they  sung, 
Deaf  the  praisM  ear,  and  mute  the  tuneful  tongue. 
Ev'n  he,  whose  soul  now  melts  in  mournful  lays. 
Shall  shortly  want  the  gen'rous  tear  he  pays ; 
Then  from  his  closing  eyes  thy  form  shall  part, 
And  the  last  pang  shall  tear  thee  from  his  heart,  80 

Life's  idle  business  at  one  gasp  be  o'er. 
The  Muse  forgot,  and  thou  be  lov'd  no  more! 


PROLOGUE 


MR.   ADDISON'S   TRAGEDY   OF  CATO. 

[Addison's  Cato  which  the  author  had  kept  by  him  in  an  unfinished  state  for  seven 
years  was  produced  at  Drury  Lane  on  April  14th,  1713;  eleven  days  after  the  news 
had  reached  London  of  the  definitive  conclusion  of  the  Peace  of  Utrecht.  The  Whigs 
attempted  to  identify  Cato  with  the  faithful  remnant  of  their  own  party  which  still 
upheld  the  glories  and  liberties  of  the  past ;  while  the  Tories  sagaciously  refused  to 
recognise  the  analogy,  and  vied  with  the  Whigs  in  applauding  the  play,  Bolingbroke 
presenting  Booth,  who  performed  Cato,  with  fifty  guineas  '  in  acknowledgment  for 
defending  the  cause  of  liberty  so  well  against  a  perpetual  dictator.'  Addison  disclaimed 
all  political  design,  and  waived  the  profits  of  the  performances  of  the  tragedy  which 
continued  for  a  month  in  London,  and  then  recommenced  at  Oxford.     See  Gibber's 

^  [It  has  been  fairly  asked  whether  the  poet  is  not  in  these  lines  guilty  of  an  anticlimax.] 


96  PROLOGUE  TO   CATO. 

account  in  the  Apology.  The  epilogue  was  written  by  Garth,  who  dwelt  chiefly  on 
those  amatory  episodes  in  the  play,  which  Schlegel  has  so  successfully  ridiculed.  As 
to  the  relations  between  Pope  and  Addison  see  Introductory  Memoir^ 

TO  wake  the  soul  by  tender  strokes  of  art, 
To  raise  the  genius,  and  to  mend  the  heart ; 
To  make  mankind  in  conscious  virtue  bold. 
Live  o'er  each  scene,  and  be  what  they  behold : 
For  this  the  Tragic  Muse  first  trod  the  stage, 
Commanding  tears  to  stream  thro'  ev'ry  age; 
Tyrants  no  more  their  savage  nature  kept. 
And  foes  to  virtue  wonder'd  how  they  wept. 
Our  author  shuns  by  vulgar  springs  to  move 
The  hero's  glory,  or  the  virgin's  love ;  10 

In  pitying  Love,  we  but  our  weakness  show, 
And  wild  Ambition  well  deserves  its  woe. 
Here  tears  shall  flow  from  a  more  gen'rous  cause, 
Such  Tears  as  Patriots  shed  for  dying  Laws  : 
He  bids  your  breasts  with  ancient  ardour  rise. 
And  calls  forth  Roman  drops  from  British  eyes. 
Virtue  confess'd  in  human  shape  he  draws. 
What  Plato  thought,  and  godlike  Cato  was : 
No  common  object  to  your  sight  displays. 
But  what  with  pleasure  Heav'n  itself  surveys,^  20 

A  brave  man  struggling  in  the  storms  of  fate, 
And  greatly  falling,  with  a  falling  state. 
1  While  Cato  gives  his  little  Senate  laws. 
What  bosom  beats  not  in  his  Country's  cause? 
Who  sees  him  act,  but  envies  ev'ry  deed? 
Who  hears  him  groan,  and  does  not  wish  to  bleed? 
Ev'n  when  proud  Caesar  'midst  triumphal  cars, 
The  spoils  of  nations,  and  the  pomp  of  wars, 
Ignobly  vain  and  impotently  great, 

Show'd  Rome  her  Cato's  figure  drawn  in  state ;  30 

As  her  dead  Father's  rev'rend  image  past. 
The  pomp  was  darken'd,  and  the  day  o'ercast ; 
The  Triumph  ceas'd,  tears  gush'd  from  ev'ry  eye ; 
The  World's  great  Victor  pass'd  unheeded  by ; 
Her  last  good  man  dejected  Rome  ador'd. 
And  honour'd  Caesar  less  than  Cato's  sword. 
Britons,  attend :  be  worth  like  this  approv'd,^ 

1  But  what  with  pleasure]    This  alludes  to  ut  spectet  Catonem,  jam  paribus    non  semel 

a  famous  passage  of  Seneca,  which  Mr.  Addi-  fractis,  nihilominus  inter  ruinas  publicas  erec- 

son  afterwards  used  as  a  motto  to  his  play,  when  turn.'] 

it  was  printed.    Warburton.    [It  is  taken  from  2  Britons,  attend:]  Mr.  Pope  had  written  it 

Sen.   de  Divin.  Prov.   and  runs   as  follows:  arise,  in  the  spirit  of  Poetry  and  Liberty;  but 

*  Ecce  spectaculum  dignum,  ad  quod  respiciat,  Mr.  Addison  frighten'd  at  so  ^«r/«^<i«  expres- 

intentus  operi  suo,  Deus!     Ecce  par  Deo  dig-  sion,  which,  he  thought,  squinted  at  rebellion, 

num,  vir  fortis  cum  mala  fortune  compositus!  would  have  it  alter'd,  in  the  spirit  of  Prose  and 

Non  video,  inquam,  quid  habeat  in  terris  Jupi-  Politics,  to  attend.     Warburton, 
ter  pulchrius,  si  convertere  animum  velit,  quam 


EPILOGUE  TO  JANE  SHORE,  97 

And  show,  you  have  the  virtue  to  be  mov'd. 

With  honest  scorn  the  first  fam'd  Cato  viewed 

Rome  learning  arts  from  Greece,  whom  she  subdu'd ;  40 

Your  scene  precariously  subsists  too  long 

On  French  translation,  and  Italian  song. 

Dare  to  have  sense  yourselves ;  assert  the  stage, 

Be  justly  warmM  with  your  own  native  rage  : 

Such  Plays  alone  should  win  a  British  ear, 

As  Gate's  self  had  not  disdain'd  to  hear.^ 


EPILOGUE 


MR.   R0WE'S2  JANE   SHORE. 

Designed  for  Mrs.  Oldfield. 

[Rowe's  play  of  Jane  Shore,  which  is  only  partly  founded  on  history,  was  first  acted 
Feb.  2, 17 14,  at  Drury  Lane.  The  character  of  Gloucester  in  this  play  is  taken  straight 
out  of  Shakspere.  Great  expectations  were  formed  of  the  tragedy ;  and  it  was  acted 
for  nineteen  nights.  See  (Geneste's)  Account  of  the  English  Stage,  II.  524.  The 
famous  Mrs.  Oldfield  supported  the  part  of  the  heroine,  but  Pope's  Epilogue  was 
never  spoken.] 

PRODIGIOUS  this!  the  Frail-one  of  our  Play 
From  her  own  Sex  should  mercy  find  to-day! 
You  might  have  held  the  pretty  head  aside, 
Peep'd  in  your  fans,  been  serious,  thus,  and  cryM, 
The  Play  may  pass — but  that  strange  creature.  Shore, 
I  can't  —  indeed  now  —  I  so  hate  a  whore  — 
Just  as  a  blockhead  rubs  his  thoughtless  skull. 
And  thanks  his  stars  he  was  not  born  a  fool ; 
So  from  a  sister  sinner  you  shall  hear, 

"  How  strangely  you  expose  yourself,  my  dear!  "  10 

But  let  me  die,  all  raillery  apart. 
Our  sex  are  still  forgiving  at  their  heart ; 

1  As  Catds  self,  etc.]  This  alludes  to  the  raphy.  In  his  own  plays  he  adopted  blank 
famous  story  of  his  going  into  the  Theatre,  and  verse  in  lieu  of  the  heroic  couplet  established  by 
immediately  coming  out  again,  related  by  Mar-  Dryden;  but  has  nothing  else  to  approach  him 
tial.    Warburton.    [Martial.  Lib.  i.  Epigr.  i.]  to  the  Elisabethan  tragedians.     He  is  perhaps 

2  [Nicholas  Rowe,  born  in  1673,  died  in  1718.  happiest  in  the  delineation  of  female  passion  and 
He  was  a  friend  of  Addison's;  and  did  good  weakness;  but  his  Fair  Penitent  is  a  mere 
service  to  the  cause  of  dramatic  literature  by  his  adaptation  from  Massinger.] 

edition  of  Shakspere,  accompanied  by  a  biog- 
H 


98  EPILOGUE  TO  JANE  SHORE. 

And  did  not  wicked  custom  so  contrive, 
We  'd  be  the  best  good-natur'd  things  alive. 

There  are,  't  is  true,  v^^ho  tell  another  tale, 
That  virtuous  ladies  envy  while  they  rail ; 
Such  rage  without  betrays  the  fire  within : 
In  some  close  corner  of  the  soul,  they  sin ; 
Still  hoarding  up,  most  scandalously  nice, 
Amidst  their  virtues  a  reserve  of  vice.  20 

The  godly  dame,  who  fleshly  failings  damns, 
"Scolds  with  her  maid,  or  with  her  chaplain  crams. 
Would  you  enjoy  soft  nights  and  solid  dinners? 
Faith,  gallants,  board  with  saints,  and  bed  with  sinners 

Well,  if  our  Author  in  the  Wife  offends, 
He  has  a  Husband  that  will  make  amends, 
He  draws  him  gentle,  tender,  and  forgiving. 
And  sure  such  kind  good  creatures  may  be  living. 
In  days  of  old,  they  pardoned  breach  of  vows. 
Stern  Cato's  self  was  no  relentless  spouse  :  30 

Plu-Plutarch,  what 's  his  name  that  writes  his  life  ? 
Tells  us,  that  Cato  dearly  lov'd  his  Wife : 
Yet  if  a  friend,  a  night  or  so  should  need  her, 
He  'd  recommend  her  as  a  special  breeder. 
To  lend  a  wife,  few  here  would  scruple  make, 
But  pray,  which  of  you  all  would  take  her  back! 
Tho'  with  the  Stoic  Chief  our  stage  may  ring. 
The  Stoic  Husband  was  the  glorious  thing. 
The  man  had  courage,  was  a  sage,  't  is  true, 
And  lov'd  his  country  —  but  what 's  that  to  you  ?  40 

Those  strange  examples  ne^er  were  made  to  fit  ye 
But  the  kind  cuckold  might  instruct  the  City : 
There,  many  an  honest  man  may  copy  Cato, 
Who  ne'er  saw  naked  sword,  or  lookM  in  Plato. 

If,  after  all,  you  think  it  a  disgrace. 
That  Edward's  Miss  thus  perks  it  in  your  face ; 
To  see  a  piece  of  failing  flesh  and  blood. 
In  all  the  rest  so  impudently  good ; 
Faith,  let  the  modest  Matrons  of  the  town 
Come  here  in  crowds,  and  stare  the  strumpet  down.  50 


TRANSLATIONS  AND   IMITATIONS. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  following  Translations  were  selected  from  many  others  done  by  the  Author  in 
his  Youth ;  for  the  most  part  indeed  but  a  sort  of  Exercises,  while  he  was  improving 
himself  in  the  Languages,  and  carried  by  his  early  Bent  to  Poetry  to  perform  them 
rather  in  Verse  than  Prose.  Mr.  Dryden's  Fables  came  out  about  that  time,  which 
occasioned  the  Translations  from  Chaucer,  They  were  first  separately  printed  in  Mis- 
cellanies by  J.  Tonson  and  B.  Lintot,  and  afterwards  collected  in  the  Quarto  Edition  of 
1717.  The  Imitations  of  English  Authors,  which  are  added  at  the  end,  were  done  as 
early,  some  of  them  at  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  old;  but  having  also  got  into  Miscel- 
lanies, we  have  put  them  here  together  to  complete  this  Juvenile  Volume.  P.  [It 
should  be  observed  that,  according  to  Warburton's  statement,  it  was  never  Pope's 
intention  to  include  his  Juvenile  Translations  in  the  edition  of  his  works  which  he  was 
preparing  at  the  close  of  his  life.] 


SAPPHO  TO   PHAON. 

[Ovid.  Heroid.  xv.] 

SAY,  lovely  youth,  that  dost  my  heart  command, 
Can  Phaon's  eyes  forget  his  Sappho's  hand? 
Must  then  her  name  the  wretched  writer  prove, 
To  thy  remembrance  lost,  as  to  thy  love? 
Ask  not  the  cause  that  I  new  numbers  choose,  5 

The  Lute  neglected,  and  the  Lyric  muse ; 
Love  taught  my  tears  in  sadder  notes  to  flow. 
And  tun'd  my  heart  to  Elegies  of  woe. 
I  burn,  I  burn,  as  when  thro'  ripen'd  corn 
By  driving  winds  the  spreading  flames  are  borne!  10 

Phaon  to  ^Etna's  scorching  fields  retires. 
While  I  consume  with  more  than  ^Etna's  fires ! 
No  more  my  soul  a  charm  in  music  finds, 
Music  has  charms  alone  for  peaceful  minds.^ 
Soft  scenes  of  solitude  no  more  can  please,  15 

1  [The  sense  of  the  Latin  is  here  inappropriately  altered,  to  introduce  Congrevc*s  turn  of 
phrase,  but  the  opposite  of  his  sentiment.] 

99 


100  SAPPHO   TO  PHAOISr. 

Love  enters  there,  and  I  'm  my  own  disease. 

No  more  the  Lesbian  dames  my  passion  move, 

Once  the  dear  objects  of  my  guilty  love ; 

All  other  loves  are  lost  in  only  thine, 

Ah  youth  ungrateful  to  a  flame  like  mine!  20 

Whom  would  not  all  those  blooming  charms  surprize, 

Those  heav'nly  looks,  and  dear  deluding  eyes? 

The  harp  and  bow  would  you  like  Phoebus  bear, 

A  brighter  Phoebus  Phaon  might  appear ; 

Would  you  with  ivy  wreath  your  flowing  hair,  25 

Not  Bacchus'  self  with  Phaon  could  compare : 

Yet  Phoebus  lov'd,  and  Bacchus  felt  the  flame, 

One  Daphne  warm'd,  and  one  the  Cretan  dame, 

Nymphs  that  in  verse  no  more  could  rival  me. 

Than  ev'n  those  Gods  contend  in  charms  with  thee.  30 

The  Muses  teach  me  all  their  softest  lays. 

And  the  wide  world  resounds  with  Sappho's  praise, 

Tho'  great  Alcaeus  more  subhmely  sings, 

And  strikes  with  bolder  rage  the  sounding  strings. 

No  less  renown  attends  the  moving  lyre,  35 

Which  Venus  tunes,  and  all  her  loves  inspire ; 

To  me  what  nature  has  in  charms  deny'd. 

Is  well  by  wit's  more  lasting  flame  supply'd. 

Tho'  short  my  stature,  yet  my  name  extends 

To  heav'n  itself,  and  earth's  remotest  ends.  40 

Brown  as  I  am,  an  Ethiopian  dame 

Inspir'd  young  Perseus  with  a  gen'rous  flame ; 

Turtles  and  doves  of  differing  hues  unite, 

And  glossy  jet  is  pair'd  with  shining  white. 

If  to  no  charms  thou  wilt  thy  heart  resign,  45 

But  such  as  merit,  such  as  equal  thine. 

By  none,  alas!  by  none  thou  canst  be  mov'd, 

Phaon  alone  by  Phaon  must  be  lov'd! 

Yet  once  thy  Sappho  could  thy  cares  employ, 

Once  in  her  arms  you  center'd  all  your  joy  :  50 

No  time  the  dear  remembrance  can  remove, 

For  oh!  how  vast  a  memory  has  love! 

My  music,  then,  you  could  for  ever  hear, 

And  all  my  words  were  music  to  your  ear ; 

You  stopp'd  with  kisses  my  enchanting  tongue,  55 

And  found  my  kisses  sweeter  than  my  song. 

In  all  I  pleas'd,  but  most  in  what  was  best ; 

And  the  last  joy  was  dearer  than  the  rest. 

Then  with  each  word,  each  glance,  each  motion  fir'd. 

You  still  enjoy'd,  and  yet  you  still  desir'd,  60 

'Till  all  dissolving  in  the  trance  we  lay. 

And  in  tumultuous  raptures  died  away. 

The  fair  Sicilians  now  thy  soul  inflame ; 

Why  was  I  born,  ye  Gods,  a  Lesbian  dame? 

But  ah  beware,  Sicilian  nymphs !  nor  boast  65 


SAPPHO   TO  PHAOm  loi 

That  wandMng  heart  which' I  so  iat*;ly  ^c»st ; 

Nor  be  with  all  those  tempting  Wo'rdc  ab^is'd  '  ' 

Those  tempting  words  were  all  to  Sappho  us'd. 

And  you  that  rule  Sicilia's  happy  plains, 

Have  pity,  Venus,  on  your  Poet's  pains !  70 

Shall  fortune  still  in  one  sad  tenor  run, 

And  still  increase  the  woes  so  soon  begun? 

Inur'd  to  sorrow  from  my  tender  years. 

My  parent's  ashes  drank  my  early  tears : 

My  brother  next,  neglecting  wealth  and  fame,  75 

Ignobly  burn'd  in  a  destructive  flame : 

An  infant  daughter  late  my  griefs  increased, 

And  all  a  mother's  cares  distract  my  breast. 

Alas,  what  more  could  fate  itself  impose. 

But  thee,  the  last  and  greatest  of  my  woes  ?  80 

No  more  my  robes  in  waving  purple  flow. 

Nor  on  my  hand  the  sparkling  di'monds  glow ; 

No  more  my  locks  in  ringlets  curl'd  diffuse 

The  costly  sweetness  of  Arabian  dews. 

Nor  braids  of  gold  the  varied  tresses  bind,  85 

That  fly  disorder'd  with  the  wanton  wind. 

For  whom  should  Sappho  use  such  arts  as  these? 

He's  gone,  whom  only  she  desir'd  to  please! 

Cupid's  light  darts  my  tender  bosom  move, 

Still  is  there  cause  for  Sappho  still  to  love :  90 

So  from  my  birth  the  Sisters  ^  fix'd  my  doom, 

And  gave  to  Venus  all  my  life  to  come ; 

Or  while  my  Muse  in  melting  notes  complains. 

My  yielding  heart  keeps  measure  to  my  strains. 

By  charms  like  thine  which  all  my  soul  have  won,  95 

Who  might  not  —  ah  !  who  would  not  be  undone? 

For  those  Aurora  Cephalus  might  scorn. 

And  with  fresh  blushes  paint  the  conscious  morn. 

For  those  might  Cynthia  lengthen  Phaon's  sleep. 

And  bid  Endymion  nightly  tend  his  sheep.  100 

Venus  for  those  had  rapt  thee  to  the  skies. 

But  Mars  on  thee  might  look  with  Venus'  eyes. 

O  scarce  a  youth,  yet  scarce  a  tender  boy! 

O  useful  time  for  lovers  to  employ ! 

Pride  of  thy  age,  and  glory  of  thy  race,  105 

Come  to  these  arms,  and  melt  in  this  embrace! 

The  vows  you  never  will  return,  receive ; 

And  take  at  least  the  love  you  will  not  give. 

See,  while  I  write,  my  words  are  lost  in  tears ; 

The  less  my  sense,  the  more  my  love  appears.  no 

Sure  't  was  not  much  to  bid  one  kind  adieu, 

(At  least  to  feign  was  never  hard  to  you) 

Farewell,  my  Lesbian  love,  you  might  have  said, 

1  [The  Parcae.] 


f 


^\ 


102  ^4P^H0   TO  PHAOIV, 

Oi;;  coMl)^,  thus.,  Farewell,  oh  Lesbian  maid! 
; .  ^  ^  ;      Nqi  tear  Qid  ryciu,  no  parting  kiss  receive,  115 

Nor  knew  I  then  how  much  I  was  to  grieve. 

No  lover's  gift  your  Sappho  could  confer. 

And  wrongs  and  woes  were  all  you  left  with  her. 

No  charge  I  gave  you,  and  no  charge  could  give, 

But  this.  Be  mindful  of  our  loves,  and  live.  120 

Now  by  the  Nine,  those  pow'rs  ador'd  by  me, 

And  Love,  the  God  that  ever  waits  on  thee. 

When  first  I  heard  (from  whom  I  hardly  knew) 

That  you  were  fled,  and  all  my  joys  with  you. 

Like  some  sad  statue,  speechless,  pale  I  stood,  125 

Grief  chilPd  my  breast,  and  stopped  my  freezing  blood ; 
V  No  sigh  to  rise,  no  tear  had  pow'r  to  flow, 

\^  Fix'd  in  a  stupid  lethargy  of  woe  : 

(f^'"^  But  when  its  way  th'  impetuous  passion  found, 

I  rend  my  tresses,  and  my  breast  I  wound,  130 

I  rave,  then  weep,  I  curse,  and  then  complain, 

Now  swell  to  rage,  now  melt  in  tears  again. 

Not  fiercer  pangs  distract  the  mournful  dame. 

Whose  first-born  infant  feeds  the  fun'ral  flame. 

My  scornful  brother  with  a  smile  appears,  135 

Insults  my  woes,  and  triumphs  in  my  tears ; 

His  hated  image  ever  haunts  my  eyes. 

And  why  this  grief  ?  thy  daughter  lives,  he  cries. 

Stung  with  my  Love,  and  furious  with  despair, 

All  torn  my  garments,  and  my  bosom  bare,  140 

My  woes,  thy  crimes,  I  to  the  world  proclaim ; 

Such  inconsistent  things  are  love  and  shame! 

'T  is  thou  art  all  my  care  and  my  delight, 

My  daily  longing,  and  my  dream  by  night : 

Oh  night  more  pleasing  than  the  brightest  day,  145 

When  fancy  gives  what  absence  takes  away, 

And,  dressM  in  all  its  visionary  charms. 

Restores  my  fair  deserter  to  my  arms! 

Then  round  your  neck  in  wanton  wreaths  I  twine, 

Then  you,  methinks,  as  fondly  circle  mine :  150 

A  thousand  tender  words  I  hear  and  speak ; 

A  thousand  melting  kisses  give,  and  take : 

Then  fiercer  joys,  I  blush  to  mention  these, 

Yet  while  I  blush,  confess  how  much  they  please. 

But  when,  with  day,  the  sweet  delusions  fly,  155 

And  all  things  wake  to  life  and  joy,  but  I, 

As  if  once  more  forsaken,  I  complain. 

And  close  my  eyes  to  dream  of  you  again : 

Then  frantic  rise,  and  like  some  Fury  rove 

Thro'  lonely  plains,  and  thro'  the  silent  grove,  160 

:  As  if  the  silent  grove,  and  lonely  plains, 
J  That  knew  my  pleasures,  could  relieve  my  pains. 
H  view  the  Grotto,  once  the  scene  of  love, 


X 


SAPPHO   TO  PHAOJSr,  103 

The  rocks  around,  the  hanging  roofs  above, 

That  charm M  me  more,  with  native  moss  overgrown,  165 

Than  Phrygian  marble,  or  the  Parian  stone. 

I  find  the  shades  that  veilM  our  joys  before ; 

But,  Phaon  gone,  those  shades  dehght  no  more. 

Here  the  pressM  herbs  with  bending  tops  betray 

Where  oft  entwinM  in  am'rous  folds  we  lay  ;  1 70 

I  kiss  that  earth  which  once  was  pressM  by  you, 

And  all  with  tears  the  withVing  herbs  bedew. 

For  thee  the  fading  trees  appear  to  mourn, 

And  birds  defer  their  songs  till  thy  return ; 

Night  shades  the  groves,  and  all  in  silence  lie,        •  175 

All  but  the  mournful  Philomel  and  I : 

With  mournful  Philomel  I  join  my  strain, 

Of  Tereus  she,  of  Phaon  I  complain. 

A  spring  there  is,  whose  silver  waters  show, 
Clear  as  a  glass,  the  shining  sands  below  :  180 

A  flowYy  Lotos  spreads  its  arms  above. 
Shades  all  the  banks,  and  seems  itself  a  grove ; 
Eternal  greens  the  mossy  margin  grace, 
Watch'd  by  the  sylvan  Genius  of  the  place. 
Here  as  I  lay,  and  swelPd  with  tears  the  flood,  185 

Before  my  sight  a  wat'ry  Virgin  stood : 
She  stood  and  cry'd,  '^  O  you  that  love  in  vain! 
"  Fly  hence,  and  seek  the  fair  Leucadian  main ; 
"  There  stands  a  rock,  frorn  whose  impending  steep 
"  Apollo's  fane  surveys  the  rolling  deep  :  190 

"There  injur'd  lovers,  leaping  from  above, 
"Their  flames  extinquish,  and  forget  to  love. 
"  Deucalion  once  with  hopeless  fury  burn'd, 
"  In  vain  he  lovM,  relentless  Pyrrha  scornM  ; 
"  But  when  from  hence  he  plung'd  into  the  main,  195 

"Deucalion  scorn'd,  and  Pyrrha  lovM  in  vain. 
"  Haste,  Sappho,  haste,  from  high  Leucadia  throw 
"Thy  wretched  weight,  nor  dread  the  deeps  below!" 
She  spoke,  and  vanishM  with  the  voice  —  I  rise. 
And  silent  tears  fall  trickling  from  my  eyes.  200 

I  go,  ye  Nymphs!  those  rocks  and  seas  to  prove; 
How  much  I  fear,  but  ah,  how  much  I  love  ! 
I  go,  ye  Nymphs!  where  furious  love  inspires ; 
Let  female  fears  submit  to  female  fires. 

To  rocks  and  seas  I  fly  from  Phaon's  hate,  205 

And  hope  from  seas  and  rocks  a  milder  fate. 
Ye  gentle  gales,  beneath  my  body  blow, 
And  softly  lay  me  on  the  waves  below! 
And  thou,  kind  Love,  my  sinking  limbs  sustain. 
Spread  thy  soft  wings,  and  waft  me  o'er  the  main,  210 

Nor  let  a  Lover's  death  the  guiltless  flood  profane! 
On  Phoebus'  shrine  my  harp  I  '11  then  bestow. 
And  this  Inscription  shall  be  plac'd  below. 


104  SAPPHO   TO  PHAON. 

"  Here  she  who  sung,  to  him  that  did  inspire, 
"  Sappho  to  Phoebus  consecrates  her  Lyre  ;  215 

"What  suits  with  Sappho,  Phoebus,  suits  with  thee; 
"  The  Gift,  the  giver,  and  the  God  agree/' 
But  why,  alas,  relentless  youth,  ah  why 
To  distant  seas  must  tender  Sappho  fly? 

Thy  charms  than  those  may  far  more  powerful  be,  220 

And  Phoebus'  self  is  less  a  God  to  me. 
Ah!  cans't  thou  doom  me  to  the  rocks  and  sea, 
O  far  more  faithless  and  more  hard  than  they? 
Ah !  canst  thou  rather  see  this  tender  breast 
Dash'd  on  these  rocks  than  to  thy  bosom  prest?  225 

This  breast  which  once,  in  vain!  you  lik'd  so  well ; 
Where  the  Loves  play'd,  and  where  the  Muses  dwelL 
Alas!  the  Muses  now  no  more  inspire, 
Untun'd  my  lute,  and  silent  is  my  lyre. 

My  languid  numbers  have  forgot  to  flow,  230 

And  fancy  sinks  beneath  a  weight  of  woe. 
Ye  Lesbian  virgins,  and  ye  Lesbian  dames. 
Themes  of  my  verse,  and  objects  of  my  flames, 
No  more  your  groves  with  my  glad  songs  shall  ring, 
No  more  these  hands  shall  touch  the  trembling  string :  235 

My  Phaon's  fled,  and  I  those  arts  resign 
(Wretch  that  I  am,  to  call  that  Phaon  mine !) 
Return,  fair  youth,  return,  and  bring  along 
Joy  to  my  soul,  and  vigour  to  my  song : 

Absent  from  thee,  the  Poet's  flame  expires ;  240 

But  ah!  how  fiercely  burn  the  Lover's  fires! 
Gods!  can  no  pray'rs,  no  sighs,  no  numbers  move 
One  savage  heart,  or  teach  it  how  to  love? 
The  winds  my  pray'rs,  my  sighs,  my  numbers  bear, 
The  flying  winds  have  lost  them  all  in  air!  245 

Oh  when,  alas!  shall  more  auspicious  gales 
To  these  fond  eyes  restore  thy  welcome  sails  ? 
If  you  return  —  ah  why  these  long  delays? 
Poor  Sappho  dies  while  careless  Phaon  stays. 
O  launch  thy  bark,  nor  fear  the  wat'ry  plain ;  250 

Venus  for  thee  shall  smooth  her  native  main. 

0  launch  thy  bark,  secure  of  prosp'rous  gales ; 
Cupid  for  thee  shall  spread  the  swelling  sails. 

1  you  will  fly  —  (yet  ah  !  what  cause  can  be, 

Too  cruel  youth,  that  you  should  fly  from  me?)  255 

If  not  from  Phaon  I  must  hope  for  ease, 
Ah  let  me  seek  it  from  the  raging  seas : 
To  raging  seas  unpity'd  I  '11  remove. 
And  either  cease  to  live  or  cease  to  love! 


ELOISA   TO  ABELARD.  105 


ELOISA   TO   ABELARD. 

[The  deathless  story  of  Abelard  and  Eloisa  is  fully  given  in  Papirii  Massoni  Annates, 
quoted  in  Rawlinson's  edition  of  their  letters.  '  Petrus  cognomine  Abailardus,'  after 
attaining  the  highest  eminence  as  a  teacher  of  scholasticism  in  the  University  of  Paris 
in  the  second  decad  of  the  twelfdT  century  (through  the  influence  of  St.  Bernard  his 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity  was  condemned  at  the  Council  of  Sens  in  1140),  retired  to  the 
Monastery  of  the  Paraclete,  of  which  he  was  the  founder,  and  died  in  1142.  Eloisa, 
first  abbess  of  the  Paraclete,  died  in  1163.  Abelard's  French  love-songs  to  Eloisa  are 
lost,  but  their  letters  have  been  frequently  published.  The  edition  used  by  Pope  was 
probably  that  of  Rawlinson,  completed  in  the  year  (1717)  in  which  Pope's  Epistle  first 
appeared  in  Lintot's  one-volume  collection  of  his  works.  —  Mr.  Hallam  charges  Pope 
with  injustice  to  Eloisa  in  substituting  for  the  real  motive  of  her  refusal  to  marry  him 
(unwillingness  to  interfere  with  the  prospects  of  his  career)  '  an  abstract  predilection 
for  the  name  of  mistress  above  that  of  wife.'  A  poet  however  has  undoubtedly  the 
right  to  make  such  a  change.  The  ordinary  objection,  that  the  effect  of  the  whole 
poem  is  immoral,  is  obviously  inapplicable  to  a  distinctly  dramatic  piece.  Most  read- 
ers of  this  poem  will  be  inclined  to  consider  that  its  language  is  appropriate  to  passion, 
but  not  the  language  of  passion  itself.  From  this  point  of  view  should  be  contrasted 
with  it,  not  Ovid's  Heroides,  of  which  it  is  a  most  felicitous  imitation,  but  such  an  epistle 
as  that  of  Julia  in  the  first  canto  of  Byron's  Don  Juan,  Yet  on  forwarding  the  volume 
containing  Eloisa  to  Abelard  to  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu  at  Constantinople,  Pope  hinted 
to  her  that  the  concluding  lines  of  the  poem  admitted  of  a  most  personal  interpretation. 
This  venturesome  self-impeachment  was  very  coolly  received  by  his  correspondent ;  nor 
is  the  passage  in  que^ion  likely  to  strike  posterity  as  more  dangerously  passionate  than 
it  seemed  to  her  to  be.] 

ARGUMENT. 

Abelard  and  Eloisa  flourished  in  the  twelfth  Century ;  they  were  two  of  the  most 
distinguished  Persons  of  their  age  in  learning  and  beauty,  but  for  nothing  more  famous 
than  for  their  unfortunate  passion.  After  a  long  course  of  calamities,  they  retired  each 
to  a  several  Convent,  and  consecrated  the  remainder  of  their  days  to  religion.  It  was 
many  years  after  this  separation,  that  a  letter  of  Abelard's  to  a  Friend,  which  contained 
the  history  of  his  misfortune,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Eloisa.  This  awakening  all  her 
Tenderness,  occasioned  those  celebrated  letters  (out  of  which  the  following  is  partly 
extracted)  which  gives  so  lively  a  picture  of  the  struggles  of  grace  and  nature,  virtue 
and  passion.    P. 


IN  these  deep  solitudes  and  awful  cells, 
Where  heavenly-pensive  contemplation  dwells, 
And  ever-musing  melancholy  reigns  ; 
What  means  this  tumult  in  a  Vestal's  veins? 
Why  rove  my  thoughts  beyond  this  last  retreat?  5 

Why  feels  my  heart  its  long-forgotten  heat? 
Yet,  yet  I  love !  —  From  Abelard  it  came, 
And  Eloisa  yet  must  kiss  the  name. 

Dear  fatal  name!  rest  ever  unreveaPd, 
Nor  pass  these  lips  in  holy  silence  seaPd :  10 

Hide  it,  my  heart,  within  that  close  disguise, 
Where  mix'd  with  God's,  his  lov'd  Idea  lies : 
O  write  it  not  my  hand  —  the  name  appears 
Already  written  —  wash  it  out,  my  tears ! 


io6  ELOJSA    TO  ABELARD. 

In  vain  lost  Eloisa  weeps  and  prays,  15 

Her  heart  still  dictates,  and  her  hand  obeys. 

Relentless  walls!  whose  darksome  round  contains 
Repentant  sighs,  and  voluntary  pains : 
Ye  rugged  rocks!  which  holy  knees  have  worn; 
Ye  grots  and  caverns  shagg'd  with  horrid  thorn!  20 

Shrines !  where  their  vigils  pale-eyM  virgins  keep, 
And  pitying  saints,  whose  statues  learn  to  weep! 
Tho'  cold  like  you,  unmov'd  and  silent  grown, 
I  have  not  yet  forgot  myself  to  stone. ^ 

All  is  not  Heaven's  while  Abelard  has  part,  25 

Still  rebel  nature  holds  out  half  my  heart ; 
Nor  pray'rs  nor  fasts  its  stubborn  pulse  restrain, 
Nor  tears  for  ages  taught  to  flow  in  vain. 

Soon  as  thy  letters  trembling  I  unclose, 
That  well-known  name  awakens  all  my  woes.  30 

Oh  name  for  ever  sad!  for  ever  dear! 
Still  breathed  in  sighs,  still  usher'd  with  a  tear. 
I  tremble  too,  where'er  my  own  I  find. 
Some  dire  m.isfortune  follows  close  behind. 
Line  after  line  my  gushing  eyes  overflow,  35 

Led  thro'  a  sad  variety  of  woe  : 
Now  warm  in  love,  now  withering  in  my  bloom, 
Lost  in  a  convent's  solitary  gloom ! 
There  stern  Religion  quench'd  th'  unwilling  flame, 
There  died  the  best  of  passions.  Love  and  Fame.  40 

Yet  write,  oh  write  me  all,  that  I  may  join 
Griefs  to  thy  griefs,  and  echo  sighs  to  thine. 
Nor  foes  nor  fortune  take  this  pow'r  away ; 
And  is  my  Abelard  less  kind  than  they? 

Tears  still  are  mine,  and  those  I  need  not  spare,  45 

Love  but  demands  what  else  were  shed  in  pray'r ; 
No  happier  task  these  faded  eyes  pursue ; 
V)^        j  To  read  and  weep  is  all  they  now  can  do. 

Then  share  thy  pain,  allow  that  sad  relief; 
Ah,  more  than  share  it,  give  me  all  thy  grief.  50 

Heav'n  first  taught  letters  for  some  wretch's  aid, 
Some  banish'd  lover,  or  some  captive  maid ; 
They  live,  they  speak,  they  breathe  what  love  inspires, 
Warm  from  the  soul,  and  faithful  to  its  fires, 
The  virgin's  wish  without  her  fears  impart,  55 

Excuse  the  blush,  and  pour  out  all  the  heart, 
Speed  the  soft  intercourse  from  soul  to  soul. 
And  waft  a  sigh  from  Indus  to  the  Pole. 

Thou  know'st  how  guiltless  first  I  met  thy  flame, 
When  Love  approach'd  me  under  Friendship's  name ;  60 

/  1  *  Forget  thyself  to  marble,'  Milton,  //  Pen-    *  twilight,'  *  low-thoughted  care,'  and  others,  are 

serosa.    The  expression  [y.  20) '  caverns  shagg'd    first  used  ir.  th^  smaller  poems  of  Milton,  which 
with  horrid  thorn,'  and  the  epithets  '  pale-ey'd,*    Pope  seems  to  have  been  just  reading.     Warton. 


ELOISA    TO  ABELARD.  107 

My  fancy  form'd  thee  of  angelic  kind, 

Some  emanation  of  th^  all-beauteous  Mind. 

Those  smiling  eyes,  attempering  evVy  ray, 

Shone  sweetly  lambent  with  celestial  day. 

Guiltless  I  gaz'd ;  heav'n  listenM  while  you  sung ;  65 

And  truths  divine  came  mended  from  that  tongue. 

From  lips  like  those  what  precept  faiPd  to  move  ? 

Too  soon  they  taught  me  't  was  no  sin  to  love : 

Back  thro'  the  paths  of  pleasing  sense  I  ran, 

Nor  wished  an  Angel  whom  I  lov'd  a  Man.  70 

Dim  and  rprnpt^  tl^^r  j^ys  of  saints  I  see; 

Nor  envy  them  that  heav'n  I  lose  for  thee. 

How  oft,  when  pressed  to  marriage,  have  I  said, 
Curse  on  all  laws  but  those  which  love  has  made  ?  * 
Love,  free  as  air,  at  sight  of  human  ties,  75 

Spreads  his  light  wings,  and  in  a  moment  flies. ^ 
Let  wealth,  let  honour,  wait  the  wedded  dame, 
August  her  deed,  and  sacred  be  her  fame ; 
Before  true  passion  all  those  views  remove, 
Fame,  wealth,  and  honour!  what  are  you  to  Love?  80 

The  jealous  God,  when  we  profane  his  fires, 
Those  restless  passions  in  revenge  inspires, 
And-bids-them  make  mistaken  mortals  groan, 
Wha^s€ek"ifr4eve  for  aught  but  love  alone. 
Should  at  my  feet  the  world's  great  master  fall,  85 

Himself,  his  throne,  his  world,  I  'd  scorn  'em  all : 
Not  Caesar's  empress  would  I  deign  to  prove ; 
No,  make  me  mistress  to  the  man  I  love ; 
If  there  be  yet  another  name  more  free. 

More  fond  than  mistress,  make  me  that  to  thee!  90 

Oh!  happy  state!  when  souls  each  other  draw, 
When  love  is  liberty,  and  nature  law : 
All  then  is  full,  possessing,  and  possess'd. 
No  craving  void  left  aking  in  the  breast : 

Ev'n  thought  meets  thought,  ere  from  the  lips  it  part,  95 

And  each  warm  wish  springs  mutual  from  the  heart. 
This  sure  is  bliss  (if  bliss  on  earth  there  be) 
And  once  the  lot  of  Abelard  and  me. 

Alas,  how  chang'd!  what  sudden  horrors  rise! 
A  naked  Lover  bound  and  bleeding  Res!  100 

Where,  where  was  Eloise?  her  voice,  her  hand, 
Her  poniard,  had  oppos'd  the  dire  command. 
Barbarian,  stay  !  that  bloody  stroke  restrain  ; 
The  crime  was  common,  common  be  the  pain. 
I  can  no  more  ;  by  shame,  by  rage  suppress'd,  105 

^  *  And  own  no  laws  but  those  which   love  Flutters  his  wings,   and  forthwith   is  he 

ordains.'    DTydcn,  Cinyras  and  Myrrak.     P.  gone.' 

2  *  Love  will  not  be  confin'd  by  Maisterie:  Chaucer.     P.     [The  Frankeletnes  Tale S\ 

When  Maisterie  comes,  the  Lord  of  Love 
anon 


io8  ELOISA   TO  ABELARD, 

Let  tears,  and  burning  blushes  speak  the  rest. 

Canst  thou  forget  that  sad,  that  solemn  day, 
When  victims  at  yon  altar^s  foot  we  lay? 
Canst  thou  forget  what  tears  that  moment  fell, 
When,  warm  in  youth,  I  bade  the  world  farewell?  no 

As  with  cold  lips  I  kiss'd  the  sacred  veil. 
The  shrines  all  trembled,  and  the  lamps  grew  pale : 
Heaven  scarce  believ'd  the  Conquest  it  surveyed, 
And  Saints  with  wonder  heard  the  vows  I  made. 
Yet  then,  to  those  dread  altars  as  I  drew,  115 

Not  on  the  Cross  my  eyes  were  fixM,  but  you : 
Not  grace,  or  zeal,  love  only  was  my  call, 
And  if  I  lose  thy  love,  I  lose  my  all. 
Come !  with  thy  looks,  thy  w^ords,  relieve  my  woe ;  ^ 
Those  still  at  least  are  left  thee  to  bestow.  120 

Still  on  that  breast  enamoured  let  me  lie, 
Still  drink  delicious  poison  from  thy  eye,^ 
Pant  on  thy  lip,  and  to  thy  heart  be  pressM ; 
Give  all  thou  canst  —  and  let  me  dream  the  rest. 
Ah  no!  instruct  me  other  joys  to  prize,  125 

With  other  beauties  charm  my  partial  eyes, 
Full  in  my  view  set  all  the  bright  abode,       ^ 
And  make  my  soul  quit  Abelard  for  God. 

Ah,  think  at  least  thy  flock  deserves  thy  care, 
Plants  of  thy  hand,  and  children  of  thy  pray'r.  130 

From  the  false  world  in  early  youth  they  fled, 
By  thee  to  mountains,  wilds,  and  deserts  led. 
You  raisM  these  hallowed  walls ;  ^  the  desert  smil'd, 
And  Paradise  was  open'd  in  the  Wild."* 

No  weeping  orphan  saw  his  father's  stores  135 

Our  shrines  irradiate,  or  emblaze  the  floors; 
No  silver  saints,  by  dying  misers  giv'n. 
Here  brib'd  the  rage  of  ill-requited  heav'n: 
But  such  plain  roofs  as  Piety  could  raise, 

And  only  vocal  with  the  Maker's  praise.  140 

^  In  these  lone  walls  (their  days  eternal  bound) 
These  moss-grown  domes  with  spiry  turrets  crown'd. 
Where  awful  arches  make  a  noon-day  night, 
And  the  dim  windows  shed  a  solemn  light ; 
Thy  eyes  diffused  a  reconciling  ray,  145 

And  gleams  of  glory  brighten'd  all  the  day. 
But  now  no  face  divine  contentment  wears, 
'T  is  all  blank  sadness,  or  continual  tears. 
See  how  the  force  of  others'  pray'rs  I  try, 
(O  pious  fraud  of  am'rous  charity !)  1 50 

1  These  lines  cannot  be  justified  by  anything         ^  You  rats' d  these  hallowed  walls  fl     He 

in  the  letters  of  Eloisa  [where  she  merely  prays  founded  the  Monastery.     P. 
Abelard  to  write  to  her] .     Roscoe.  *  '  And  Paradise  was   open'd    in    his    face.' 

2 '  Drank    dear    delicious   poison.'      Smith's  Dry  den.     Carruthers. 
Phcedra  and  Hippolytus.     Carruthers. 


ELOISA    TO  ABELARD,  109 

But  why  should  I  on  others'  prayVs  depend? 

Come  thou,  my  father,  brother,  husband,  friend! 

Ah  let  thy  handmaid,  sister,  daughter  move, 

And  all  those  tender  names  in  one,  thy  love ! 

The  darksome  pines  that  o'er  yon  rocks  reclined  155 

Wave  high,  and  murmur  to  the  hollow  wind. 

The  wand'ring  streams  that  shine  between  the  hills, 

The  grots  that  echo  to  the  tinkling  rills. 

The  dying  gales  that  pant  upon  the  trees, 

The  lakes  that  quiver  to  the  curling  breeze ;  160 

No  more  these  scenes  my  meditation  aid, 

Or  lull  to  rest  the  visionary  maid. 

But  o'er  the  twilight  groves  and  dusky  caves, 

Long-sounding  aisles,  and  intefrmingled  graves, 

Black  Melancholy  sits,  and  round  her  throws  165 

A  death-like  silence,  and  a  dead  repose : 

Her  gloomy  presence  saddens  all  the  scene. 

Shades  ev'ry  flow'r,  and  darkens  ev'ry  green, 

Deepens  the  murmur  of  the  falling  floods. 

And  breathes  a  browner  horror  on  the  woods. ^  170 

Yet  here  for  ever,  ever  must  I  stay ; 
Sad  proof  how  well  a  lover  can  obey ! 
Death,  only  death,  can  break  the  lasting  chain : 
And  here,  ev'n  then,  shall  my  cold  dust  remain, 
Here  all  its  frailties,  all  its  flames  resign,  175 

And  wait  till  't  is  no  sin  to  mix  with  thine 

Ah  wretch !  believ'd  the  spouse  of  God  in  vain. 
Confessed  within  the  slave  of  love  and  man. 
Assist  me,  heav'n!  but  whence  arose  that  prayV? 
Sprung  it  from  piety,  or  from  despair?  180 

Ev'n  here,  where  frozen  chastity  retires, 
Love  finds  an  altar  for  forbidden  fires. 
I  ought  to  grieve,  but  cannot  what  I  ought ; 
I  mourn  the  lover,  not  lament  the  fault ; 

I  view  my  crime,  but  kindle  at  the  view,  185 

Repent  old  pleasures,  and  solicit  new ; 
Now  turned  to  heav'n,  I  weep  my  past  offence. 
Now  think  of  thee,  and  curse  my  innocence. 
Of  all  aflliction  taught  a  lover  yet, 

'T  is  sure  the  hardest  science  to  forget !  190 

How  shall  I  lose  the  sin,  yet  keep  the  sense, 
And  love  th'  offender,  yet  detest  th'  offence? 
How  the  dear  object  from  the  crime  remove. 
Or  how  distinguish  penitence  from  love? 

Unequal  task!  a  passion  to  resign,  195 

For  hearts  so  touch'd,  so  pierc'd,  so  lost  as  mine. 
Ere  such  a  soul  regains  its  peaceful  state, 

^  *  Browner   horror.'      Dryden.      War  to  ft.     similar  description  of  Melancholy  in  Collins's 
[This  passage  must  have  helped  to  inspire  the    Passions.} 


r 


no  ELOISA   TO  ABELARD. 

How  often  must  it  love,  how  often  hate! 

How  often  hope,  despair,  resent,  regret, 

Conceal,  disdain,  —  do  all  things  but  forget.  200 

But  let  heav'n  seize  it,  all  at  once  't  is  fir'd :  ^ 

NoLtouch'd,  but  rapt ;  not  waken'd,  but  inspir'd! 

Oh  come !  oh  teach  me  nature  to  subdue. 

Renounce  my  love,  my  life,  myself — and  you. 

Fill  my  fond  heart  with  God  alone,  for  he  205 

Alone  can  rival,  can  succeed  to  thee. 

How  happy  is  the  blameless  VestaPs  lot! 
The  world  forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot : 
Eternal ^sunsliiJQe  of  the  spotless  mind! 

EachprayV  accepted,  and  each  wish  resigned;  210 

Labour  and  rest,  that  equal  periods  keep ; 
"  Obedient  slumbers  that  can  wake  and  weep  ;  "  ^ 
Desires  compos'd,  affections  ever  ev'n  ; 
Tears  that  delight,  and  sighs  that  waft  to  heav'n. 
Grace  shines  around  her  with  serenest  beams,  215 

And  whispering  Angels  prompt  her  golden  dreams. 
V    '^\  For  her  th'  unfading  rose  of  Eden  blooms, 

V'-  And  wings  of  Seraphs  shed  divine  perfumes, 

For  her  the  Spouse  prepares  the  bridal  ring, 
For  her  white  virgins  Hymenaeals  sing,  220 

To  sounds  of  heav'nly  harps  she  dies  away, 
And  melts  in  visions  of  eternal  day. 

Far  other  dreams  my  erring  soul  employ, 
Far  other  raptures,  of  unholy  joy  : 

When  at  the  close  of  each  sad,  sorrowing  day,  225 

Fancy  restores  what  vengeance  snatched  away, 
Then  conscience  sleeps,  and  leaving  nature  free, 
All  my  loose  soul  unbounded  springs  to  thee. 
Oh  curst,  dear  horrors  of  all-conscious  night ; 
How  glowing  guilt  exalts  the  keen  delight!  230 

Provoking  Daemons  all  restraint  remove, 
And  stir  within  me  evVy  source  of  love. 
I  hear  thee,  view  thee,  gaze  o'er  all  thy  charms, 
And  round  thy  phantom  glue  my  clasping  arms.  ^ 
I  wake  :  —  no  more  I  hear,  no  more  I  view,  235 

The  phantom  flies  me,  as  unkind  as  you. 
I  call  aloud ;  it  hears  not  what  I  say : 
I  stretch  my  empty  arms ;  it  glides  away. 
To  dream  once  more  I  close  my  willing  eyes ; 
Ye  soft  illusions,  dear  deceits,  arise!  240 

Alas,  no  more !  methinks  we  wand'ring  go 
Thro'  dreary  wastes,  and  weep  each  other's  woe, 
Where  round  some  mould'ring  tow'r  pale  ivy  creeps, 
And  low-brow'd  rocks  hang  nodding  o'er  the  deeps. 

1  Here  is  the  true  doctrine  of  the  Mystics,     and  in  the  Seraphical  Saint  Theresa.     War- 
There  are  many  such  strains  in  Crashaw,  par-    ton.     [The  same  poem.]  [shaw.     .^. 

ticularly  in  a  poem  called  The  Flaming  Hearty         ^  Obedient  slumbers ^  etc.]    Taken  from  Cra- 


ELOISA   TO  ABELARD,  in 

Sudden  you  mount,  you  beckon  from  the  skies ;  245 

Clouds  interpose,  waves  roar,  and  winds  arise. 
I  shriek,  start  up,  the  same  sad  prospect  find, 
And  wake  to  all  the  griefs  I  left  behind. ^ 

For  thee  the  fates,  severely  kind,  ordain 
A_cool  suspense  from  pleasure  and  from  pain ;  250 

Thy  life  a  long  dead  calm  of  fix'd  repose ; 
No  pulse  that  riots,  and  no  blood  that  glows. 
Still  as  the  sea,  ere  winds  were  taught  to  blow, 
Or  moving  spirit  bade  the  waters  flow ; 

Soft  as  the  slumbers  of  a  saint  forgiv'n,  255 

And  mild  as  op'ning  gleams  of  promisM  heav'n. 

Come,  Abelard!  for  what  hast  thou  to  dread? 
The  torch  of  Venus  burns  not  for  the  dead. 
Nature  stands  check'd ;  Religion  disapproves  ; 
Ev'n  thou  art  cold —  yet  Eloisa  loves.  260 

Ah  hopeless,  lasting  flames !  like  those  that  burn 
To  light  the  dead,  and  warm  th'  unfruitful  urn. 

What  scenes  appear  where'er  I  turn  my  view  ? 
The  dear  Ideas,  where  I  fly,  pursue, 

Rise  in  the  grove,  before  the  altar  rise,  265 

Stain  all  my  soul,  and  wanton  in  my  eyes. 
I  waste  the  Matin  lamp  in  sighs  for  thee. 
Thy  image  steels  between  my  God  and  me, 
Thy  voice  I  seem  in  ev'ry  hymn  to  hear, 

With  ev'ry  bead  I  drop  too  soft  a  tear.  270 

,    When  from  the  censer  clouds  of  fragrance  roll. 
And  swelling  organs  lift  the  rising  soul, 
One  thought  of  thee  puts  all  the  pomp  to  flight, 
Priests,  tapers,  temples,  swim  before  my  sight :  ^ 
In  seas  of  flame  my  plunging  soul  is  drown'd,  275 

While  Altars  blaze,  and  Angels  tremble  round. 

While  prostrate  here  in  humble  grief  I  lie, 
Kind,  virtuous  drops  just  gathering  in  my  eye, 
While  praying,  trembling,  in  the  dust  I  roll, 
And  dawning  grace  is  op'ning  on  my  soul :  280 

Come,  if  thou  dar'st,  all  charming  as  thou  art! 
Oppose  thyself  to  heav'n  ;  dispute  my  heart ; 
Come,  with  one  glance  of  those  deluding  eyes 
Blot  out  each  bright  Idea  of  the  skies ; 

Take  back  that  grace,  those  sorrows,  and  those  tears ;  285 

Take  back  my  fruitless  penitence  and  pray'rs ; 
Snatch  me,  just  mounting,  from  the  blest  abode ; 
Assist  the  fiends,  and  tear  me  from  my  God  !     ^ 

No,  fly  me,  fly  me,  far  as  Pole  from  Pole ; 
Rise  Alps  between  us  !  and  whole  oceans  roll !  290 

Ah,  come  not,  write  not,  think  not  once  of  me, 

1  [This  passage  is  plagiarised  from  Davenant.] 
*  *  Priests,  tapers,  temples,  swam  before  my  sight, 
*  Altars,  and  victims.'  —  Smith's  Phcedra  and  Hippolytus,    Bowles, 


112  ELOISA    TO  ABELARD. 

Nor  share  one  pang  of  all  I  felt  for  thee. 

Thy  oaths  I  quit,  thy  memory  resign ; 

Forget,  renounce  me,  hate  whatever  was  mine. 

Fair  eyes,  and  tempting  looks  (which  yet  I  view!)  295 

Long  lovM,  adorM  ideas,  all  adieu ! 

Oh  Grace  serene!  oh  virtue  heav'nly  fair! 

Divine  oblivion  of  low-thoughted  care ! 

Fresh  blooming  Hope,  gay  daughter  of  the  sky! 

And  Faith,  our  early  immortality!  300 

Enter,  each  mild,  each  amicable  guest ; 

Receive,  and  wrap  me  in  eternal  rest! 

'  See  in  her  cell  sad  Eloisa  spread, 
Propt  on  some  tomb,  a  neighbour  of  the  dead. 
In  each  low  wind  methinks  a  Spirit  calls,  305 

And  more  than  Echoes  talk  along  the  walls. 
Here,  as  I  watch'd  the  dying  lamps  around, 
From  yonder  shrine  I  heard  a  hollow  sound. 
"Come,  sister,  come!  (it  said,  or  seem'd  to  say) 
"Thy  place  is  here,  sad  sister,  come  away!  ^  310 

"  Once  like  thyself,  I  trembled,  wept,  and  pray'd, 
"  Love's  victim  then,  tho'  now  a  sainted  maid : 
"  But  all  is  calm  in  this  eternal  sleep ; 
"  Here  grief  forgets  to  groan,  and  love  to  weep, 
"Ev'n  superstition  loses  ev'ry  fear ;  '  315 

"  For  God,  not  man,  absolves  our  frailties  here." 

I  come,  I  come !  prepare  your  roseate  bowYs, 
Celestial  palms,  and  ever-blooming  flow'rs. 
Thither,  where  sinners  may  have  rest,  I  go, 
Where  flames  refin'd  in  breasts  seraphic  glow ;  320 

Thou,  Abelard!  the  last  sad  office  pay, 
And  smooth  my  passage  to  the  realms  of  day ; 
See  my  Hps  tremble,  and  my  eye-balls  roll,'^ 
Suck  my  last  breath,  and  catch  my  flying  soul ! 
Ah  no  —  in  sacred  vestments  may\st  thou  stand,  325 

The  hallowed  taper  trembling  in  thy  hand. 
Present  the  Cross  before  my  lifted  eye, 
Teach  me  at  once,  and  learn  of  me  to  die. 
Ah  then,  thy  once-loved  Eloisa  see! 

It  will  be  then  no  crime  to  gaze  on  me.  330 

See  from  my  cheek  the  transient  roses  fly! 
See  the  last  sparkle  languish  in  my  eye! 
'Till  ev'ry  motion,  pulse,  and  breath  be  o'er 
And  ev'n  my  Abelard  be  lov'd  no  more. 

O  Death  all-eloquent!  you  only  prove  •  335 

What  dust  we  dote  on,  when  't  is  man  we  love. 

Then  too,  when  fate  shall  thy  fair  frame  destroy, 
(That  cause  of  all  my  guilt,  and  all  my  joy) 

1  [cf.  the  second  stanza  of  the  Dying  Chris-    from  Oldham  on  the  death  of  Adonis.     Warton 
iian  to  his  Soul.]  [who  enumerates   several  lines   in  this  epistle 

2  This  and  the  following  verse  certainly  taken    taken  from  various  passages  of  Dryden]. 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME,  113 

In  trance  ecstatic  may  thy  pangs  be  drown'd,^ 

Bright  clouds  descend,  and  Angels  watch  thee  round,  340 

From  opening  skies  may  streaming  glories  shine, 

And  saints  embrace  thee  with  a  love  like  mine. 

May  one  kind  grave  unite  each  hapless  name,^ 
And  graft  my  love  immortal  on  thy  fame! 
Then,  ages  hence,  when  all  my  woes  are  o'er,  345 

When  this  rebellious  heart  shall  beat  no  more ; 
If  ever  chance  two  wand-ring  lovers  brings 
To  Paraclete's  white  walls  and  silver  springs, 
O'er  the  pale  marble  shall  they  join  their  heads. 
And  drink  the  falling  tears  each  other  sheds ;  350 

Then  sadly  say,  with  mutual  pity  mov'd, 
"Oh  may  we  never  love  as  these  have  lov'd! " 
From  the  full  choir  when  loud  Hosannas  rise, 
And  swell  the  pomp  of  dreadful  sacrifice,^ 
Amid  that  scene  if  some  relenting  eye  355 

Glance  on  the  stone  where  our  cold  relics  lie, 
Devotion's  self  shall  steal  a  thought  from  heav'n, 
One  human  tear  shall  drop  and  be  forgiv'n. 
And  sure,  if  fate  some  future  bard  shall  join 
In  sad  similitude  of  griefs  to  mine,  360 

Condemn'd  whole  years  in  absence  to  deplore. 
And  image  charms  he  must  behold  no  more ; 
I  Such  if  there  be,  who  loves  so  long,  so  well ; 
Let  him  our  sad,  our  tender  story  tell ; 

The  well-sung  woes  will  sooth  my  pensive  ghost ;  365 

He  best  can  paint  'em  who  shall  feel  'em  most. 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  hint  of  the  following  piece  was  taken  from  Chaucer's  House  of  Fame.  The 
design  is  in  a  manner  entirely  altered,  the  descriptions  and  most  of  the  particular 
thoughts  my  own :  yet  I  could  not  suffer  it  to  be  printed  without  this  acknowledgment. 
The  reader  who  would  compare  this  with  Chaucer,  may  begin  with  his  third  Book  of 
Fame,  there  being  nothing  in  the  two  first  books  that  answers  to  their  title  :  wherever 
any  hint  is  taken  from  him,  the  passage  itself  is  set  down  in  the  marginal  notes.     P. 

1  These   circumstances    are   conformable   to  monuments  adjoining,  in  the  Monastery  of  the 

the  notions  of  mystic  devotion.     The  death  of  Paraclete:  he  died  in  the  year  1142,  she  in  1163. 

St.   Jerome  is  finely  and  forcibly  painted  by  P.     [An  inscription  was  placed  on  their  tomb  in 

Domenichino,  with  such  attendant  particulars.  1779,  which  is  quoted  by.  Roscoe.] 

Warton.  ^  dread/u/sacrzyice,]  The  ritual  term.  Car- 

^  May  one  kind  grave,  etc.]     Abelard  and  rutkers. 
Eloisa  were  interred  in  the  same  grave,  or  in 
I 


.t4  THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME, 

[Chaucer's  House  of  Fame  (in  which  '  booke  is  shewed  how  the  deedes  of  all  men 
and  women,  be  they  good  or  bad,  are  carried  by  report  to  posteritie')  appears  by 
internal  evidence  to  have  been  written  while  he  held  the  office  of  Comptroller  of  the 
Custom  of  Wool  in  London,  to  which  he  was  appointed  in  1374.  This  poem  belongs 
to  the  second  period  of  his  literary  career,  in  which  the  invention  and  arrangement  of 
his  subjects  are  already  independent  of  foreign  sources.  Even  Roscoe  is  unable  to 
trace  the  House  of  Fame  to  an  Italian  original.  Pope  has  both  added  to  Chaucer,  and 
omitted  from  him ;  leaving  out  in  particular  the  bulk  of  the  Second  Book,  which 
contains  the  teachings  of  the  Eagle.  The  day  has  happily  past  when  such  loose 
paraphrases  are  relished;  nor  will  many  readers  be  found  to  assent  to  Roscoe's  dictum 
that '  it  is  almost  impossible  to  distinguish  those  portions  for  which  Pope  is  indebted 
to  Chaucer  from  those  of  his  own  invention.'  The  humorous  lines  with  which  Pope 
accompanied  the  present  of  his  Temple  of  Fame  to  a  lady  will  be  found  among  the 
Miscellanies^ 

IN  that  soft  season,  when  descending  show'rs  ^ 
Call  forth  the  greens,  and  wake  the  rising  flow'rs ; 
When  opening  buds  salute  the  welcome  day, 
And  earth  relenting  feels  the  genial  ray ; 

As  balmy  sleep  had  charmed  my  cares  to  rest,  5 

And  love  itself  was  banishM  from  my  breast, 
(What  time  the  morn  mysterious  visions  brings, 
While  purer  slumbers  spread  their  golden  wings) 
A  train  of  phantoms  in  wild  order  rose, 
And,  joined,  this  intellectual  scene  compose.  10 

I  stood,  methought,  betwixt  earth,  seas,  and  skies ; 
The  whole  creation  open  to  my  eyes : 
In  air  self-balanc'd  hung  the  globe  below. 
Where  mountains  rise  and  circling  oceans  flow ; 
Here  naked  rocks,  and  empty  wastes  were  seen,  15 

There  tow'ry  cities,  and  the  forests  green : 
Here  sailing  ships  delight  the  wandering  eyes : 
There  trees,  and  intermingled  temples  rise ; 
Now  a  clear  sun  the  shining  scene  displays, 
The  transient  landscape  now  in  clouds  decays.  20 

O  V  the  wide  Prospect  as  I  gaz'd  around. 
Sudden  I  heard  a  wild  promiscuous  sound. 
Like  broken  thunders  that  at  distance  roar. 
Or  billows  murm'ring  on  the  hollow  shore : 
Then  gazing  up,  a  glorious  pile  beheld,  25 

Whose  tow'ring  summit  ambient  clouds  conceal'd. 
High  on  a  rock  of  Ice  the  structure  lay. 
Steep  its  ascent,  and  slippVy  was  the  way ; 
The  wond'rous  rock  like  Parian  marble  shone, 
And  seem'd,  to  distant  sight,  of  soHd  stone.  30 

Inscriptions  here  of  various  Names  I  view'd, 

1  In  that  soft  season^  etc.]     This  Poem  is  Chaucer  frequendy  borrow  the  idea  of  their 

introduced  in    the    manner  of   the    Provencal  poems.     See  the  Trionfi  of  the  former,  and  the 

Poets,   whose  works  were  for  the   most   part  Dream,  Flower  and  the  Leaf,  etc.  of  the  lat- 

Visions,   or    pieces    of   imagination,   and  con-  ter.     The  Author  of  this   therefore  chose  the 

stantly  descriptive.    From  these,  Petrarch  and  same  sort  of  Exordium.    P. 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME.  115 

The  greater  part  by  hostile  time  subdu'd ; 

Yet  wide  was  spread  their  fame  in  ages  past, 

And  Poets  once  had  promisM  they  should  last. 

Some  fresh  engravM  appear^  of  Wits  renown'd  ;  35 

I  look'd  again,  nor  could  their  trace  be  found. 

Critics  I  saw,  that  other  names  deface, 

And  fix  their  own,  with  labour,  in  their  place : 

Their  own,  like  others,  soon  their  place  resign'd, 

Or  disappear'd,  and  left  the  first  behind.  40 

Nor  was  the  work  impaired  by  storms  alone, 

But  felt  th'  approaches  of  too  warm  a  sun ; 

For  Fame,  impatient  of  extremes,  decays 

Not  more  by  Envy  than  excess  of  Praise. 

Yet  part  no  injuries  of  heaven  could  feel,  45 

Like  crystal  faithful  to  the  graving  steel : 

The  rock's  high  summit,  in  the  temple's  shade, 

Nor  heat  could  rhelt,  nor  beating  storm  invade. 

Their  names  inscribed  unnumber'd  ages  past 

From  time's  first  birth,  with  time  itself  shall  last ;  50 

These  ever  new,  nor  subject  to  decays. 

Spread,  and  grow  brighter  with  the  length  of  days. 

So  Zembla's  rocks  (the  beauteous  work  of  frost) 
Rise  white  in  air,  and  glitter  o'er  the  coast ; 
Pale  suns,  unfelt,  at  distance  roll  away,  55 

And  on  th'  impassive  ice  the  light'nings  play ; 
Eternal  snows  the  growing  mass  supply. 
Till  the  bright  mountains  prop  th'  incumbent  sky : 
As  Atlas  fix'd,  each  hoary  pile  appears. 
The  gather'd  winter  of  a  thousand  years.  60 

On  this  foundation  Fame's  high  temple  stands ; 
Stupendous  pile!  not  rear'd  by  mortal  hands. 
Whatever  proud  Rome  or  artful  Greece  beheld, 
Or  elder  Babylon,  its  frame  excell'd. 

Four  faces  had  the  dome,  and  ev'ry  face  ^  65 

Of  various  structure,  but  of  equal  grace  : 
Four  brazen  gates,  on  columns  lifted  high, 
Salute  the  diff 'rent  quarters  of  the  sky. 
Here  fabled  Chiefs  in  darker  ages  born, 

Or  Worthies  old,  whom  arms  or  arts  adorn,  70 

Who  cities  rais'd,  or  tam'd  a  monstrous  race ; 
The  walls  in  venerable  order  grace  : 
Heroes  in  animated  marble  frown, 
And  Legislators  seem  to  think  in  stone. 

Westward,  a  sumptuous  frontispiece  appear'd,  75 

On  Doric  pillars  of  white  marble  rear'd, 

"^  Four  faces  had  the  dome,  etc. "l     TheTem-  em  front  is  of  Grecian  architecture:  the  Doric 

pie  is  described  to  be  square,  the  four  fronts  with  order  was  peculiarly  sacred  to  Heroes  and  Wor- 

open  gates  facing  the  different  quarters  of  the  thies.     Those  whose  statues  are  after  mentioned, 

world,  as  an  intimation  that  all  nations  of  the  were  the  first  names  of  old  Greece  in  arms  and 

earth  may  alike  be  received  into  it.    The  west-  arts.     P. 


Ii6  THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME, 

Crown'd  with  an  architrave  of  antique  mold, 
And  sculpture  rising  on  the  roughen'd  gold. 
In  shaggy  spoils  here  Theseus  was  beheld, 
And  Perseus  dreadful  with  Minerva's  shield :  80 

There  great  Alcides  stooping  with  his  toil,^ 
Rests  on  his  club,  and  holds  th'  Hesperian  spoil. 
Here  Orpheus  sings  ;  trees  moving  to  the  sound 
Start  from  their  roots,  and  form  a  shade  around : 
Amphion  there  the  loud  creating  lyre  85 

Strikes,  and  beholds  a  sudden  Thebes  aspire! 
Cithaeron's  echoes  answer  to  his  call, 
And  half  the  mountain  rolls  into  a  wall : 
.   There  might  you  see  the  length'ning  spires  ascend, 
The  domes  swell  up,  the  wid'ning  arches  bend,  90 

The  growing  tow'rs,  like  exhalations  rise. 
And  the  huge  columns  heave  into  the  skies. 
The  Eastern  front  was  glorious  to  behold. 
With  di'mond  flaming,  and  Barbaric  gold. 
There  Ninus  shone,  who  spread  th'  Assyrian  fame,  95 

And  the  great  founder  of  the  Persian  name  :  ^ 
There  in  long  robes  the  royal  Magi  stand. 
Grave  Zoroaster  waves  the  circling  wand. 
The  sage  Chaldaeans  rob'd  in  white  appeared. 
And  Brahmans,  deep  in  desert  woods  rever'd.  100 

These  stopp'd  the  moon,  and  call'd  th'  unbody'd  shades 
To  midnight  banquets  in  the  glimm'ring  glades ; 
Made  visionary  fabrics  round  them  rise, 
And  airy  spectres  skim  before  their  eyes ; 
Of  Talismans  and  Sigils  knew  the  pow'r,  105 

And  careful  watch'd  the  Planetary  hour. 
Superior,  and  alone,  Confucius  stood. 
Who  taught  that  useful  science,  to  be  good. 

But  on  the  South,  a  long  majestic  race 
Of  /Egypt's  Priests  the  gilded  niches  grace,^  no 

Who  measur'd  earth,  describ'd  the  starry  spheres. 
And  trac'd  the  long  records  of  lunar  years. 
High  on  his  car  Sesostris  struck  my  view, 

1  There  great  A  Iczdes,  eic]     This  figure  of         ^  Mgypt's  priests,  &'c.'\    The  learning  of  the 

Hercules  is  drawn  with  an  eye  to  the  position  of  old  ^Egyptian  Priests  consisted  for  the  most  part 

the  famous  statue  of  Farnese.     P.  in  geometry  and  astronomy :  they  also  preserved 

^  And  the  great  founder  of  the  Persian  the  History  of  their  nation.  Their  greatest 
name  /]  Cyrus  was  the  beginning  of  the  Per-  Hero  upon  record  is  Sesostris,  whose  actions  and 
sian,  as  Ninus  was  of  the  Assyrian  Monarchy,  conquests  may  be  seen  at  large  in  Diodorus,  etc. 
The  Magi  and  Chaldaeans  ("the  chief  of  whom  He  is  said  to  have  caused  the  Kings  he  van- 
was  Zoroaster)  employed  their  studies  upon  quished  to  draw  him  in  his  Chariot.  The  post- 
magic  and  astrology,  which  was  in  a  manner  ure  of  his  statue,  in  these  verses,  is  corre- 
almost  all  the  learning  of  the  ancient  Asian  peo-  spondent  to  the  description  which  Herodotus 
pie.  We  have  scarce  any  account  of  a  moral  gives  of  one  of  them  remaining  in  his  own 
philosopher  except  Confucius,  the  great  law-  time.  P. 
giver  of  the  Chinese,  who  lived  about  two  thou- 
sand years  ago.     P. 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME,  117 

Whom  scepter'd  slaves  in  golden  harness  drew : 

His  hands  a  bow  and  pointed  javelin  hold ;  II5 

His  giant  limbs  are  armM  in  scales  of  gold. 

Between  the  statues  Obelisks  were  plac'd 

And  the  learn'd  walls  with  Hieroglyphics  graced. 

Of  Gothic  structure  was  the  Northern  side,^ 
Overwrought  with  ornaments  of  barbVous  pride.  120 

There  huge  Colosses  rose,  with  trophies  crown'd, 
And  Runic  characters  were  gravM  around. 
There  sate  Zamolxis  with  erected  eyes, 
And  Odin  here  in  mimic  trances  dies. 

There  on  rude  iron  columns,  smear'd  with  blood,  125 

The  horrid  forms  of  Scythian  heroes  stood, 
Druids  and  Bards  (their  once  loud  harps  unstrung)  ^ 
And  youths  that  died  to  be  by  Poets  sung. 
These  and  a  thousand  more  of  doubtful  fame, 
To  whom  old  fables  gave  a  lasting  name,  130 

In  ranks  adorn'd  the  Temple's  outward  face ; 
The  wall  in  lustre  and  effect  like  Glass, 
Which  o'er  each  object  casting  various  dyes, 
Enlarges  some,  and  others  multiplies : 

Nor  void  of  emblem  was  the  mystic  wall,  135 

For  thus  romantic  Fame  increases  all. 

The  Temple  shakes,  the  sounding  gates  unfold, 
Wide  vaults  appear,  and  roofs  of  fretted  gold : 
Rais'd  on  a  thousand  pillars,  wreath'd  around 
With  laurel-foliage,  and  with  eagles  crown'd :  140 

Of  bright,  transparent  beryl  were  the  walls, 
The  friezes  gold,  and  gold  the  capitals : 
As  heav'n  with  stars,  the  roof  with  jewels  glows, 
And  ever-living  lamps  depend  in  rows. 

Full  in  the  passage  of  each  spacious  gate,  145 

The  sage  Historians  in  white  garments  wait ; 
Grav'd  o'er  their  seats  the  form  of  Time  was  found. 
His  scythe  revers'd,  and  both  his  pinions  bound. 
Within  stood  Heroes,  who  thro'  loud  alarms 
In  bloody  fields  pursu'd  renown  in  arms.  150 

High  on  a  throne  with  trophies  charg'd,  I  view'd 
The  Youth  that  all  things  but  himself  subdu'd ;  ^ 

1  0/  Gothic  structure  was  the  Northern  he  is  said  to  have  been  the  inventor  of  the  Runic 

side^     The  Architecture  is  agreeable  to  that  characters.     P. 

part  of  the  world.     The  learning  of  the  northern         ^  Druids  and  Bards,  etc.]     These  were  the 

nations  lay  more  obscure  than  that  of  the  rest;  priests  and  poets  of  those  people,  so  celebrated 

Zamolxis  was  the  disciple  of  Pythagoras,  who  for  their  savage  virtue.    Those  heroic  barbarians 

taught  the  immortality  of  the  soul  to  the  Scy-  accounted  it  a  dishonour  to  die  in  their  beds, 

thians.     Odin,  or  Woden,  was  the  great  Legis-  and  rushed  on  to  certain  death  in  the  prospect 

lator  and  hero  of  the  Goths.     They  tell  us  of  of  an  after-life,  and  for  the  glory  of  a  song  from 

him,  that  being  subject  to  fits,  he  persuaded  his  their  bards  in  praise  of  their  actions.     P. 
followers,  that  during  those  trances  he  received         »  j-^^^   Youth  that  all  things  but  himself 

inspirations,  from  whence  he  dictated  his  laws :  subdu'd ;\    Alexander  the  Great:  the  Tiara  was 


ii8  THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME, 

His  feet  on  sceptres  and  tiara's  trod, 

And  his  horn'd  head  bely'd  the  Libyan  God. 

There  Caesar,  gracM  with  both  Minerva's,  shone;  155 

Caesar,  the  world's  great  master,  and  his  own ; 

Unmov'd,  superior  still  in  ev'ry  state, 

And  scarce  detested  in  his  Country's  fate. 

But  chief  were  those,  who  not  for  empire  fought, 

But  with  their  toils  their  people's  safety  bought :  160 

High  o'er  the  rest  Epaminondas  stood ; 

Timoleon,  glorious  in  his  brother's  blood  ;^ 

Bold  Scipio,  saviour  of  the  Roman  state  ; 

Great  in  his  triumphs,  in  retirement  great ; 

And  wise  Aurelius,^  in  whose  well-taught  mind       ")  165 

With  boundless  pow'r  unbounded  virtue  join'd,        > 

His  own  strict  judge,  and  patron  of  mankind.  J 

Much-suff'ring  heroes  next  their  honours  claim, 
Those  of  less  noisy,  and  less  guilty  fame. 

Fair  Virtue's  silent  train  :  supreme  of  these  170 

Here  ever  shines  the  godlike  Socrates : 
He  whom  ungrateful  Athens  could  expell,^ 
At  all  times  just,  but  when  he  sign'd  the  Shell : 
Here  his  abode  the  martyr'd  Phocion  claims,* 
With  Agis,  not  the  last  of  Spartan  names  :  ^  175 

Unconquered  Cato  shews  the  wound  he  tore, 
And  Brutus  his  ill  Genius  meets  no  more.^ 

But  in  the  centre  of  the  hallow'd  choir,"^ 
Six  pompous  columns  o'er  the  rest  aspire ; 
Around  the  shrine  itself  of  Fame  they  stand,  180 

Hold  the  chief  honours,  and  the  fane  command. 
High  on  the  first,  the  mighty  Homer  shone; 

the  crown  peculiar  to  the  Asian  Princes:    his         *  [Phocion,  put  to  death  by  Polysperchon, 

desire  to  be  thought  the  son  of  Jupiter  Ammon,  B.C.  318,  can  hardly  be  described  as  a  martyr  to 

caused  him  to  wear  the  horns  of  that  God,  and  the  liberty  of  Athens,  which  it  had  been  the 

to  represent  the  same  upon  his  coins;  which  was  business  of  his  life  to  destroy.] 
continued  by  several  of  his  successors.     P.  ^  [Agis,  King  of  Sparta,  who  endeavoured  to 

1  Timoleon,  glorious  in  his  brother" s  blood ;'\  restore  his  state  to  greatness  by  a  radical  agra- 
Timoleon  had  saved  the  life  of  his  brother  Ti-  rian  reform,  was  after  a  mock  trial  murdered  in 
mophanes  in  the  battle  between  the  Argives  and  prison,  B.C.  241.] 

Corinthians;  but  afterwards  killed  him  when  he         ^  [  *  Thou  shall  see  me  at  Philippi.'  ] 
affected  the  tyranny,  preferring  his  duty  to  his  "^  But  in  the  centre  of  the  hallow'd  choir, 

country  to  all  the  obligations  of  blood.     P.  etc.'\     In  the  midst  of  the  temple,  nearest  the 

2  [The  Roman  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  throne  of  Fame,  are  placed  the  greatest  names 
^Lyx'C^or  oi  x!t\&  Meditations  ox  Commentaries. '\  inlearningof  all  antiquity.     These  are  described 

3  He  whom  ungrateful  Athens,  etc.]  Ari-  in  such  attitudes  as  express  their  different  char- 
stides,  who  for  his  great  integrity  was  distin-  acters:  the  columns  on  which  they  are  raised 
guished  by  the  appellation  of  the  Just.  When  are  adorned  with  sculptures,  taken  from  the 
his  countrymen  would  have  banished  him  by  most  striking  subjects  of  their  works;  which 
the  Ostracism,  where  it  was  the  custom  for  every  sculpture  bears  a  resemblance,  in  its  manner 
man  to  sign  the  name  of  the  person  he  voted  to  and  character,  to  the  manner  and  character  of 
exile  in  an  Oyster-shell ;  a  peasant,  who  could  their  writings.     P. 

not  write,  came  to  Aristides  to  do  it  for  him,  who 
readily  signed  his  own  name.    P. 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME.  119 

Eternal  Adamant  composed  his  throne ; 

Father  of  verse !  in  holy  fillets  drest, 

His  silver  beard  wav'd  gently  o'er  his  breast ;  1 85 

Tho'  blind,  a  boldness  in  his  looks  appears ; 

In  years  he  seem'd,  but  not  impaired  by  years. 

The  wars  of  Troy  were  round  the  Pillar  seen  : 

Here  fierce  Tydides  wounds  the  Cyprian  Queen ; 

Here  Hector  glorious  from  Patroclus'  fall,  190 

Here  dragged  in  triumph  round  the  Trojan  wall, 

Motion  and  life  did  evVy  part  inspire, 

Bold  was  the  work,  and  prov'd  the  master's  fire ; 

A  strong  expression  most  he  seem'd  t'  aifect, 

And  here  and  there  disclosed  a  brave  neglect.  195 

A  golden  column  next  in  rank  appear'd, 
On  which  a  shrine  of  purest  gold  was  reared ; 
Finished  the  whole,  and  laboured  ev'ry  part, 
With  patient  touches  of  unweary'd  art : 

The  Mantuan  there  in  sober  triumph  sate,  200 

Composed  his  posture,  and  his  look  sedate ; 
On  Homer  still  he  fix'd  a  rev'rend  eye. 
Great  without  pride,  in  modest  majesty. 
In  living  sculpture  on  the  sides  were  spread 
The  Latian  Wars,  and  haughty  Turnus  dead ;  205 

Eliza  stretched  upon  the  funVal  pyre,^ 
iCneas  bending  with  his  aged  sire : 
Troy  flam'd  in  burning  gold,  and  o'er  the  throne 
Arms  and  the  man  in  golden  cyphers  shone. 

Four  swans  sustain  a  car  of  silver  bright,^  210 

With  heads  advanced,  and  pinions  stretch'd  for  flight : 
Here,  like  some  furious  prophet,  Pindar  rode, 
And  seem'd  to  labour  with  th'  inspiring  God. 
Across  the  harp  a  careless  hand  he  flings. 
And  boldly  sinks  into  the  sounding  strings.  215 

The  figur'd  games  of  Greece  the  column  grace, 
Neptune  and  Jove  survey  the  rapid  race. 
The  youths  hang  o'er  their  chariots  as  they  run ; 
The  fiery  steeds  seem  starting  from  the  stone ; 
The  champions  in  distorted  postures  threat ;  220 

And  all  appear'd  irregularly  great. 

Here  happy  Horace  tun'd  th'  Ausonian  lyre 
To  sweeter  sounds,  and  temper'd  Pindar's  fire : 
Pleas'd  with  Alcaeus'  manly  rage  t'  infuse 

The  softer  spirit  of  the  Sapphic  Muse.  225 

The  polish'd  pillar  diff'rent  sculptures  grace ; 
A  work  outlasting  monumental  brass. 
Here  smiling  Loves  and  Bacchanals  appear, 

1  [Elissa  (Dido.)]  are  emblems  of  Poetry,  their  soaring  posture  in- 

2  Fotir  swans  sustain,  etc.]  Pindar  being  timates  the  sublimity  and  activity  of  his  genius, 
seated  in  a  chariot,  alludes  to  the  chariot-races  Neptune  presided  over  the  Isthmian,  and  Jupiter 
he  celebrated  in  the  Grecian  games.    The  swans  over  the  Olympian  games.    P. 


120  THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME. 

The  Julian  star,  and  great  Augustus  here. 

The  Doves  that  round  the  infant  poet  spread  230 

Myrtles  and  bays,  hung  hovVing  o'er  his  head. 

Here  in  a  shrine  that  cast  a  dazzling  light, 
Sate  fix'd  in  thought  the  mighty  Stagirite ; 
His  sacred  head  a  radiant  Zodiac  crown'd, 

And  various  Animals  his  sides  surround ;  235 

His  piercing  eyes,  erect,  appear  to  view 
Superior  worlds,  and  look  all  Nature  through. 

With  equal  rays  immortal  Tully  shone, 
The  Roman  Rostra  deck'd  the  Consul's  throne : 
Gathering  his  flowing  robe,  he  seem'd  to  stand  240 

In  act  to  speak,  and  graceful  stretch'd  his  hand. 
Behind,  Rome's  Genius  waits  with  Civic  crowns, 
And  the  great  Father  of  his  country  owns. 

These  massy  columns  in  a  circle  rise, 
O'er  which  a  pompous  dome  invades  the  skies :  245 

Scarce  to  the  top  I  stretch' d  my  aching  sight, 
So  large  it  spread,  and  swell'd  to  such  a  height. 
Full  in  the  midst  proud  Fame's  imperial  seat, 
With  jewels  blaz'd,  magnificently  great ; 

The  vivid  em'ralds  there  revive  the  eye,  250 

The  flaming  rubies  shew  their  sanguine  dye. 
Bright  azure  rays  from  lively  sapphyrs  stream, 
And  lucid  amber  casts  a  golden  gleam. 
With  various-colour'd  light  the  pavement  shone, 
And  all  on  fire  appear'd  the  glowing  throne ;  255 

The  dome's  high  arch  reflects  the  mingled  blaze, 
And  forms  a  rainbow  of  alternate  rays. 
When  on  the  Goddess  first  I  cast  my  sight, 
Scarce  seem'd  her  stature  of  a  cubit's  height ; 
But  swell'd  to  larger  size,  the  more  I  gaz'd,  260 

Till  to  the  roof  her  tow'ring  front  she  rais'd. 
With  her,  the  Temple  ev'ry  moment  grew. 
And  ampler  Vista's  open'd  to  my  view : 
Upward  the  columns  shoot,  the  roofs  ascend. 
And  arches  widen,  and  long  aisles  extend.  265 

Such  was  her  form  as  ancient  bards  have  told,    - 
-Wings  raise  her  arms,  and  wings  her  feet  infold ; 
A  thousand  busy  tongues  the  Goddess  bears. 
And  thousand  open  eyes,  and  thousand  list'ning  ears. 
Beneath,  in  order  rang'd,  the  tuneful  Nine  270 

(Her  virgin  handmaids)  still  attend  the  shrine : 
With  eyes  on  Fame  for  ever  fix'd,  they  sing ; 
For  Fame  they  raise  the  voice,  and  tune  the  string ; 
With  time's  first  birth  began  the  heav'nly  lays. 
And  last,  eternal,  thro'  the  length  of  days.  275 

Around  these  wonders  as  I  cast  a  look. 
The  trumpet  sounded,  and  the  temple  shook, 
And  all  the  nations,  summon'd  at  the  call, 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME,  121 

From  diffrent  quarters  fill  the  crowded  hall : 

Of  various  tongues  the  mingled  sounds  were  heard ;  280 

In  various  garbs  promiscuous  throngs  appeaVd ; 

Thick  as  the  bees,  that  with  the  spring  renew 

Their  flow'ry  toils,  and  sip  the  fragrant  dew, 

When  the  wingM  colonies  first  tempt  the  sky, 

O'er  dusky  fields  and  shaded  waters  fly,  285 

Or  settling,  seize  the  sweets  the  blossoms  yield, 

And  a  low  murmur  runs  along  the  field. 

Millions  of  suppliant  crowds  the  shrine  attend, 

And  all  degrees  before  the  Goddess  bend ; 

The  poor,  the  rich,  the  valiant,  and  the  sage,  '  290 

And  boasting  youth,  and  narrative  old-age. ^ 

Their  pleas  were  diff'Yent,  their  request  the  same : 

For  good  and  bad  alike  are  fond  of  Fame. 

Some  she  disgrac'd,  and  some  with  honours  crown'd ; 

Unlike  successes  equal  merits  found.  295 

Thus  her  blind  sister,  fickle  Fortune,  reigns. 

And,  undiscerning,  scatters  crowns  and  chains. 

First  at  the  shrine  the  Learned  world  appear, 
And  to  the  Goddess  thus  prefer  their  pray'r. 
"  Long  have  we  sought  t'  instruct  and  please  mankind,         300 
With  studies  pale,  with  midnight  vigils  blind ; 
But  thank'd  by  few,  rewarded  yet  by  none. 
We  here  appeal  to  thy  superior  throne : 
On  wit  and  learning  the  just  prize  bestow, 
For  fame  is  all  we  must  expect  below."  305 

The  Goddess  heard,  and  bade  the  Muses  raise 
The  golden  Trumpet  of  eternal  Praise : 
From  pole  to  pole  the  winds  diffuse  the  sound, 
That  fills  the  circuit  of  the  world  around ; 

Not  all  at  once,  as  thunder  breaks  the  cloud ;  310 

The  notes  at  first  were  rather  sweet  than  loud : 
By  just  degrees  they  ev'ry  moment  rise, 
Fill  the  wide  earth,  and  gain  upon  the  skies. 
At  ev'ry  breath  were  balmy  odours  shed, 

Which  still  grew  sweeter  as  they  wider  spread ;  315 

Less  fragrant  scents  th'  unfolding  rose  exhales. 
Or  spices  breathing  in  Arabian  gales. 

Next  these  the  good  and  just,  an  awful  train. 
Thus  on  their  knees  address  the  sacred  fane. 
"  Since  living  virtue  is  with  envy  curs'd,  320 

And  the  best  men  are  treated  like  the  worst, 
Do  thou,  just  Goddess,  call  our  merits  forth. 
And  give  each  deed  th'  exact  intrinsic  worth." 
**  Not  with  bare  justice  shall  your  act  be  crown'd  " 
(Said  Fame)  ^^  but  high  above  desert  renown'd  :  325 

Let  fuller  notes  th'  applauding  world  amaze, 

1  Dry  den  uses  this   adjective    in    the    same    sense:     'Age,   as  Davenant  says,   is    always 
narrative.'    Richardson, 


122  THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME, 

And  the  loud  clarion  labour  in  your  praise." 

This  band  dismiss^,  behold  another  crowd 
Preferred  the  same  request,  and  lowly  bowM  ; 
The  constant  tenour  of  whose  well-spent  days  330 

No  less  deserved  a  just  return  of  praise. 
But  strait  the  direful  Trump  of  Slander  sounds  ; 
Thro'  the  big  dome  the  doubling  thunder  bounds ; 
Loud  as  the  burst  of  cannon  rends  the  skies, 
The  dire  report  thro'  ev'ry  region  flies,  335 

In  ev'ry  ear  incessant  rumours  rung, 
And  gathering  scandals  grew  on  ev'ry  tongue. 
From  the  black  trumpet's  rusty  concave  broke 
Sulphureous  flames,  and  clouds  of  rolling  smoke : 
The  poisonous  vapour  blots  the  purple  skies,  340 

And  withers  all  before  it  as  it  flies. 

A  troop  came  next,  who  crowns  and  armour  wore, 
And  proud  defiance  in  their  looks  they  bore : 
"For  thee"  (they  cry'd)  "amidst  alarms  and  strife. 
We  sail'd  in  tempests  down  the  stream  of  life  ;  345 

For  thee  whole  nations  fill'd  with  flames  and  blood. 
And  swam  to  empire  thro'  the  purple  flood. 
Those  ills  we  dar'd,  thy  inspiration  own, 
What  virtue  seem'd,  was  done  for  thee  alone." 
"  Ambitious  fools ! "  (the  Queen  reply'd,  and  frownM)  350 

"  Be  all  your  acts  in  dark  oblivion  drown'd ; 
There  sleep  forgot,  with  mighty  tyrants  gone. 
Your  statues  moulder'd,  and  your  names  unknown!" 
A  sudden  cloud  straight  snatch'd  them  from  my  sight, 
And  each  majestic  phantom  sunk  in  night.  355 

Then  came  the  smallest  tribe  I  yet  had  seen ; 
Plain  was  their  dress,  and  modest  was  their  mien. 
"  Great  idol  of  mankind !  we  neither  claim 
The  praise  of  merit,  nor  aspire  to  fame ! 

But  safe  in  deserts  from  th'  applause  of  men,  360 

Would  die  unheard  of,  as  we  liv'd  unseen, 
'T  is  all  we  beg  thee,  to  conceal  from  sight 
Those  acts  of  goodness,  which  themselves  requite. 
O  let  us  still  the  secret  joy  partake. 
To  follow  virtue  ev'n  for  virtue's  sake."  365 

"And  live  there  men,  who  slight  immortal  fame? 
Who  then  with  incense  shall  adore  our  name? 
But  mortals!  know,  't  is  still  our  greatest  pride 
To  blaze  those  virtues,  which  the  good  would  hide. 
Rise !  Muses,  rise  ;  add  all  your  tuneful  breath,  370 

These  must  not  sleep  in  darkness  and  in  death." 
She  said  :  in  air  the  trembling  music  floats, 
And  on  the  winds  triumphant  swell  the  notes ; 
So  soft,  tho'  high,  so  loud,  and  yet  so  clear, 
Ev'n  list'ning  Angels  lean'd  from  heav'n  to  hear:  375 

To  farthest  shores  th'  Ambrosial  spirit  flies, 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME,  123 

Sweet  to  the  world,  and  grateful  to  the  skies. 

Next  these  a  youthful  train  their  vows  expressed, 
With  feathers  crown'd,  with  gay  embroidVy  dress'd : 
"  Hither,"  they  cry'd,  "  direct  your  eyes,  and  see  380 

The  men  of  pleasure,  dress,  and  gallantry ; 
Ours  is  the  place  at  banquets,  balls,  and  plays, 
Sprightly  our  nights,  polite  are  all  our  days  ; 
Courts  we  frequent,  where  \  is  our  pleasing  care 
To  pay  due  visits,  and  address  the  fair :  385 

In  fact,  't  is  true,  no  nymph  we  could  persuade, 
But  still  in  fancy  vanquished  ev'ry.maid ; 
Of  unknown  Duchesses  lewd  tales  we  tell. 
Yet,  would  the  world  believe  us,  all  were  well. 
The  joy  let  others  have,  and  we  the  name,  390 

And  what  we  want  in  pleasure,  grant  in  fame." 

The  Queen  assents,  the  trumpet  rends  the  skies, 
And  at  each  blast  a  Lady's  honour  dies.^ 

Pleas'd  with  the  strange  success,  vast  numbers  prest 
Around  the  shrine,  and  made  the  same  request :  395 

"What?  you,"  (she  cry'd)  ^'unlearnM  in  arts  to  please, 
Slaves  to  yourselves,  and  ev'n  fatiguM  with  ease, 
Who  lose  a  length  of  undeserving  days. 
Would  you  usurp  the  lover^s  dear-bought  praise? 
To  just  contempt,  ye  vain  pretenders,  fall,  400 

The  people's  fable,  and  the  scorn  of  all." 
Straight  the  black  clarion  sends  a  horrid  sound, 
Loud  laughs  burst  out,  and  bitter  scoffs  fly  round, 
Whispers  are  heard,  with  taunts  reviling  loud, 
And  scornful  hisses  run  thro'  all  the  crowd.  405 

Last,  those  who  boast  of  mighty  mischiefs  done. 
Enslave  their  country,  or  usurp  a  throne ; 
Or  who  their  glory's  dire  foundation  lay'd 
On  Sovereigns  ruin'd,  or  on  friends  betray'd ; 
Calm,  thinking  villains,  whom  no  faith  could  fix,  410 

Of  crooked  counsels  and  dark  politics  ; 
Of  these  a  gloomy  tribe  surround  the  throne, 
And  beg  to  make  th'  immortal  treasons  known. 
The  trumpet  roars,  long  flaky  flames  expire, 
With  sparks,  that  seem'd  to  set  the  world  on  fire.  415 

At  the  dread  sound,  pale  mortals  stood  aghast, 
And  startled  nature  trembled  with  the  blast. 

This  having  heard  and  seen,  some  pow'r  unknown 
Straight  changed  the  scene,  and  snatched  me  from  the  throne. 
Before  my  view  appeared  a  structure  fair,  420 

Its  site  uncertain,  if  in  earth  or  air ; 
With  rapid  motion  turn'd  the  mansion  round ; 
With  ceaseless  noise  the  ringing  walls  resound ; 
Not  less  in  number  were  the  spacious  doors, 

1  [*  At  ev'ry  word  a  reputation  dies.'    Rape  of  the  Lock,  Canto  iii.  v.  i6.] 


124  THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME. 

Than  leaves  on  trees,  or  sand  upon  the  shores  ;  425 

Which  still  unfolded  stand,  by  night,  by  day, 

Pervious  to  winds,  and  open  evVy  way. 

As  flames  by  nature  to  the  skies  ascend, 

As  weighty  bodies  to  the  centre  tend, 

As  to  the  sea  returning  rivers  roll,  430 

And  the  touchM  needle  trembles  to  the  pole ; 

Hither,  as  to  their  proper  place,  arise 

All  various  sounds  from  earth,  and  seas,  and  skies, 

Or  spoke  aloud,  or  whisperM  in  the  ear ; 

Nor  ever  silence,  rest,  or  peace  is  here.  435 

As  on  the  smooth  expanse  of  crystal  lakes 

The  sinking  stone  at  first  a  circle  makes : 

The  trembling  surface  by  the  motion  stir'd, 

Spreads  in  a  second  circle,  then  a  third ; 

Wide,  and  more  wide,  the  floating  rings  advance,  440 

Fill  all  the  wat'ry  plain,  and  to  the  margin  dance : 

Thus  ev'ry  voice  and  sound,  when  first  they  break, 

On  neighbVing  air  a  soft  impression  make ; 

Another  ambient  circle  then  they  move ; 

That,  in  its  turn,  impels  the  next  above ;  445 

Thro'  undulating  air  the  sounds  are  sent, 

And  spread  o'er  all  the  fluid  element.^ 

There  various  news  I  heard  of  love  and  strife, 
Of  peace  and  war,  health,  sickness,  death,  and  life, 
Of  loss  and  gain,  of  famine  and  of  store,  450 

Of  storms  at  sea,  and  travels  on  the  shore, 
Of  prodigies,  and  portents  seen  in  air, 
Of  fires  and  plagues,  and  stars  with  blazing  hair, 
Of  turns  of  fortune,  changes  in  the  state. 

The  falls  of  favorites,  projects  of  the  great,  455 

Of  old  mismanagements,  taxations  new: 
All  neither  wholly  false,  nor  wholly  true. 

Above,  below,  without,  within,  around, 
Confused,  unnumbered  multitudes  are  found, 
Who  pass,  repass,  advance,  and  glide  away ;  460 

Hosts  raisM  by  fear,  and  phantoms  of  a  day : 
Astrologers,  that  future  fates  foreshew. 
Projectors,  quacks,  and  lawyers  not  a  few ; 
And  priests,  and  party-zealots,  numVous  bands 
With  home-born  lies,  or  tales  from  foreign  lands ;  465 

Each  talk'd  aloud,  or  in  some  secret  place. 
And  wild  impatience  star'd  in  ev'ry  face. 
The  flying  rumours  gathered  as  they  rolPd, 
Scarce  any  tale  was  sooner  heard  than  told ; 
And  all  who  told  it  added  something  new,  ^  470 

And  all  who  heard  it,  made  enlargements  too. 
In  ev'ry  ear  it  spread,  on  ev'ry  tongue  it  grew. 


} 


^  [This  simile  suggested  to  Pope  the  famous  passage  in  the  Essay  on  Man^  Ep.  iv.  vv.  363-72.] 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  FAME.  125 

Thus  flying  east  and  west,  and  north  and  south, 

News  travePd  with  increase  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

So  from  a  spark,  that  kindled  first  by  chance,  475 

With  gathVing  force  the  quickening  flames  advance ; 

Till  to  the  clouds  their  curling  heads  aspire. 

And  towVs  and  temples  sink  in  floods  of  fire. 

When  thus  ripe  lies  are  to  perfection  sprung, 
Full  grown,  and  fit  to  grace  a  mortal  tongue,  480 

Thro'  thousand  vents,  impatient,  forth  they  flow, 
And  rush  in  millions  on  the  world  below. 
Fame  sits  aloft,  and  points  them  out  their  course, 
Their  date  determines,  and  prescribes  their  force : 
Some  to  remain,  and  some  to  perish  soon ;  485 

Or  wane  and  wax  alternate  like  the  moon. 
Around,  a  thousand  winged  wonders  fly. 
Borne  by  the  trumpet's  blast,  and  scattered  thro'  the  sky. 

There,  at  one  passage,  oft  you  might  survey 
A  lie  and  truth  contending  for  the  way ;  490 

And  long  't  was  doubtful,  both  so  closely  pent, 
Which  first  should  issue  thro'  the  narrow  vent : 
At  last  agreed,  together  out  they  fly, 
Inseparable  now,  the  truth  and  lie ; 

The  strict  companions  are  for  ever  join'd,  495 

And  this  or  that  unmix'd,  no  mortal  e'er  shall  find. 

While  thus  I  stood,  intent  to  see  and  hear,^ 
One  came,  methought,  and  whisper'd  in  my  ear : 
"What  could  thus  high  thy  rash  ambition  raise? 
Art  thou,  fond  youth,  a  candidate  for  praise? "  500 

"'T  is  true,"  said  I,  "  not  void  of  hopes  I  came, 
For  who  so  fond  as  youthful  bards  of  Fame? 
But  few,  alas !  the  casual  blessing  boast. 
So  hard  to  gain,  so  easy  to  be  lost. 

How  vain  that  second  life  in  others  breath,  505 

Th'  estate  which  wits  inherit  after  death! 
Ease,  health,  and  life,  for  this  they  must  resign, 
(Unsure  the  tenure,  but  how  vast  the  fine!  ) 
The  great  man's  curse,  without  the  gains,  endure. 
Be  envy'd,  wretched,  and  be  flatter'd,  poor;  510 

All  luckless  wits  their  enemies  profest. 
And  all  successful,  jealous  friends  at  best. 
Nor  Fame  I  slight,  nor  for  her  favours  call ; 
She  comes  unlook'd  for,  if  she  comes  at  all. 

But  if  the  purchase  costs  so  dear  a  price,  515 

As  soothing  Folly,  or  exalting  Vice : 
Oh !  if  the  Muse  must  flatter  lawless  sway, 

^  While  thus  I  stood,  &=c.'\     The  hint  is  came  to  see  the  place;"  and  the  book  ends 

taken  from   a  passage  in   another  part  of  the  abruptly,  with  his  being  surprised  at  the  sight 

third    book,    but    here    more    naturally    made  oi  2.  Man  of  great  Authority ^^xA^'^i^iKXCiZVQ. 

the  conclusion,  with  the  addition  of  a  Moral  a  fright.    P. 
to  the  whole.    In  Chaucer  he  only  answers  **  he 


126 


IMITATIONS, 


And  follow  still  where  fortune  leads  the  way ; 

Or  if  no  basis  bear  my  rising  name, 

But  the  fall'n  ruin  of  another's  fame  ; 

Then  teach  me,  heav'n !  to  scorn  the  guilty  bays, 

Drive  from  my  breast  that  wretched  lust  of  praise, 

Unblemished  let  me  live,  or  die  unknown ; 

Oh  grant  an  honest  fame,  or  grant  me  none!" 


520 


IMITATIONS. 


Ver.  II,  etc.]     These  verses  are  hinted  from 
the  following  of  Chaucer,  Book  11. : 

*  Tho  beheld  I  fields  and  plains. 
Now  hills,  and  now  mountains, 
Now  valeis,  and  now  forestes, 
And  now  unneth  great  bestes, 
Now  rivers,  now  citees, 

Now  towns,  now  great  trees, 
Now  shippes  sayling  in  the  see.'    P. 
Ver.  27.    High  on  a  rock  of  Ice  ^  eic]   Chau- 
cer's third  book  of  Fame: 

'  It  stood  upon  so  high  a  rock, 
Higher  standeth  none  in  Spayne  — 
What  manner  stone  this  rock  was. 
For  it  was  like  a  lymed  glass, 
But  that  it  shone  full  more  clere; 
But  of  what  congeled  matere 
It  was,  I  niste  redily ; 
But  at  the  last  espied  I, 
And  found  that  it  was  every  dele, 
A  rock  of  ise,  and  not  of  stele.' 

Ver.  31.    Inscriptions  here,  eic.'\ 

*  Tho  saw  I  all  the  hill  y-grave 
With  famous  folkes  names  fele. 
That  had  been  in  much  wele 
And  her  fames  wide  y-blow; 
But  well  unneth  might  I  know, 
Any  letters  for  to  rede 

Ther  names  by,  for  out  of  drede 
They  weren  almost  off-thawen  so. 
That  of  the  letters  one  or  two 
Were  molte  away  of  every  name, 
So  unfamous  was  woxe  her  fame; 
But  men  said,  what  may  ever  last.'    P. 
Ver.  41.    Nor  was  the  work  impaired,  etc.] 

*  Tho  gan  I  in  myne  harte  cast, 
That  they  were  molte  away  for  heate, 
And  not  away  with  stormes  beate.' 

Ver.  45.     Yet  part  no  injuries,  etc.] 

*  For  on  that  other  side  I  sey 

Of  that  hill  which  northward  ley, 


How  it  was  written  full  of  names 
Of  folke,  that  had  afore  great  fames, 
Of  old  time,  and  yet  they  were 
As  fresh  as  men  had  written  hem  there 
The  self  day,  or  that  houre 

*  That  I  on  hem  gan  to  poure: 
But  well  I  wiste  what  it  made; 
It  was  conserved  with  the  shade 
(All  the  writing  that  I  sye) 

Of  the  castle  that  stoode  on  high, 
And  stood  eke  in  so  cold  a  place. 
That  heate  might  it  not  deface.*    P. 
Ver.  132.     The  wall  in  lustre,  etc.] 

*  It  shone  lighter  than  a  glass, 
And  made  well  more  than  it  was, 
As  kind  thing  of  Fame  is.' 

Ver.  179.     Six  pompous  coluvins,  etc.] 

*  From  the  dees  many  a  pillere, 

Of  metal  that  shone  not  full  clere,  etc. 

Upon  a  pillere  saw  I  stonde 

That  was  of  lede  and  iron  fine, 

Him  of  the  sect  Saturnine, 

The  Ebraicke  Joseph  us  the  old,  etc. 

Upon  an  iron  piller  strong. 
That  painted  was  all  endlong. 
With  tygers  blood  in  every  place. 
The  Tholosan  that  hight  Stace, 
That  bare  of  Thebes  up  the  name,  etc'  P. 

Ver.  182.] 

*  Full  wonder  hye  on  a  pillere 
Of  iron,  he  the  great  Omer, 

And  with  him  Dares  and  Titus,  etc.*     P. 

Ver.  196,  etc.  J 

*  There  saw  I  stand  on  a  pillere 
That  was  of  tinned  iron  cleere. 
The  Latin  Poet  Virgyle, 

That  hath  bore  up  of  a  great  while 
The  fame  of  pius  Eneas : 

And  next  him  on  a  pillere  was 
Of  copper,  Venus  clerke  Ovide, 
That  hath  sowen  wondrous  wide 


IMITATIONS. 


127 


The  great  God  of  Love's  fame— 

Tho  saw  I  on  a  pillere  by 
Of  iron  wrought  full  sternly, 
The  great  Poet  Dan  Lucan, 
That  on  his  shoulders  bore  up  then 
As  hye  as  that  I  might  see, 
The  fame  of  Julius  and  Pompee. 
And  next  him  on  a  pillere  stode 
Of  sulphur,  like  as  he  were  wode, 
Dan  Claudian,  sothe  for  to  tell, 
That  bare  up  all  the  fame  of  hell,  etc'  P. 
Ver.  224.  Pleas  d  with  A  leans'  manly  rage 
f  infuse    The  softer  spirit  of  the   Sapphic 
Muse.]     This  expresses  the  mix'd  character  of 
the  odes  of  Horace :  the  second  of  these  verses 
alludes  to  that  line  of  his, 

*  Spiritum  Graiae  tenuem  camoenae/ 
As  another  which  follows,  to 

*  Exegi  monumentum  acre  perennius.' 
The  action  of  the  Doves  hints  at  a  passage  in 
the  fourth  ode  of  his  third  book, 

*  Me  fabulosae  Vulture  in  Appulo 
Altricis  extra  limen  Apuliae, 

Ludo  fatigatumque  somno, 
Fronde  nova  puerum  palumbes 
Texere;  mirum  quod  foret  omnibus  — 
Ut  tuto  ab  atris  corpore  viperis 

Dormirem  et  ursis ;  ut  premerer  sacro 
Lauroque  coUataque  myrto, 
Non  sine  Diis  animosus  infans.* 
Which  may  be  thus  englished: 

*  While  yet  a  child,  I  chanc'd  to  stray, 
And  in  a  desert  sleeping  lay ; 

The  savage  race  withdrew,  nor  dar'd 

To  touch  the  Muses  future  bard; 

But  Cytherea's  gentle  dove 

Myrtles  and  Bays  around  me  spread, 
And  crown'd  your  infant  Poet's  head. 

Sacred  to  Music  and  to  Love.'    P. 

Ver.  259.     Scarce  seem'd  her  stature,  etc.] 

*  Methought  that  she  was  so  lite, 
That  the  length  of  a  cubite 
Was  longer  than  she  seemed  be ; 
But  thus  soone  in  a  while  she. 
Her  selfe  tho  wonderly  straight, 
That  with  her  feet  she  the  earth  reight. 
And  with  head  she  touchyd  heaven  — '  P. 

Ver.  270.     Beneath,  in  order  ranged,  etc.] 

*  I  heard  about  her  throne  y-sung 
That  all  the  palays  walls  rung, 
So  sung  the  mighty  Muse,  she 
That  cleped  is  Calliope, 

And  her  seven  sisters  eke  —  *     P. 

Ver.  276.     A  round  these  wonders,  etc.] 

*  I  heard  a  noise  approchen  blive, 
That  far'd  as  bees  done  in  a  hive. 
Against  her  time  of  out  flying; 


Right  such  a  manere  murmuring. 

For  all  the  world  it  seemed  me. 

Tho  gan  I  look  about  and  see 

That  there  came  entring  into  th'  hall, 

A  right  great  company  withal; 

And  that  of  sundry  regions. 

Of  all  kind  of  conditions,  —  etc'    P. 

Ver.  294.    Some  she  disgrac'd,  etc.] 

*  And  some  of  them  she  granted  sone. 
And  some  she  warned  well  and  fair. 
And  some  she  granted  the  contrair  — 
Right  as  her  sister  dame  Fortune 

Is  wont  to  serve  in  commune.*    P. 

Ver.  318.     .  .  .  the  good  and  just,  etc.] 

*  Tho  came  the  third  companye. 
And  gan  up  to  the  dees  to  hye. 
And  down  on  knees  they  fell  anone, 
And  saiden :  We  ben  everichone 
Folke  that  han  full  truely 
Deserved  Fame  right-fully, 

And  prayen  you  it  might  be  knowe 
Right  as  it  is,  and  forth  blowe. 

I  grant,  quoth  she,  for  now  me  list 
That  your  good  works  shall  be  wist. 
And  yet  ye  shall  have  better  loos, 
Right  in  despite  of  all  your  foos, 
Than  worthy  is,  and  that  anone. 
Let  now  (quoth  she)  thy  trump  gone— 
And  certes  all  the  breath  that  went 
Out  of  his  trump's  mouth  smel'd 
As  men  a  pot  of  baume  held 
Among  a  basket  full  of  roses  — '    P. 

Ver.   328,  338.    .  .  .  behold  another  croud 
etc.  —  From,  the  black  trumpet's  rusty,  etc.] 

*  Therewithal  there  came  anone 
Another  huge  companye. 

Of  good  folke  — 
What  did  this  Eolus,  but  he 
Tooke  out  his  trump  of  brass, 
That  fouler  than  the  devil  was; 
And  gan  this  trump  for  to  blowe, 
As  all  the  world  should  overthrowe. 
Throughout  every  regione 
Went  this  foul  trumpet's  soune. 
Swift  as  a  pellet  out  of  a  gunne. 
When  fire  is  in  the  powder  runne. 
And  such  a  smoke  gan  out  wende. 
Out  of  the  foul  trumpet's  ende  —  etc'  P. 
Ver.  356.     Then  came  the  smallest,  etc.] 

*  I  saw  anone  the  fifth  route. 
That  to  this  lady  gan  loute, 

And  downe  on  knees  anone  to  fall, 
And  to  her  they  besoughten  all. 
To  hiden  their  good  works  eke? 
And  said,  they  yeve  not  a  leke 
For  no  fame  ne  such  renowne; 
For  they  for  contemplacyoune, 


128 


IMITATIONS. 


And  Goddes  love  had  it  wrought, 
Ne  of  fame  would  they  ought. 

What,  quoth  she,  and  be  ye  wood? 
And  ween  ye  for  to  do  good, 
And  for  to  have  it  of  no  fame? 
Have  ye  despite  to  have  my  name? 
Nay  ye  shall  lien  everichone : 
Blowe  thy  trump,  and  that  anone 
(Quoth  she)  thou  Eolus,  I  hote. 
And  ring  these  folkes  workes  by  rote, 
That  all  the  world  may  of  it  heare; 
And  he  gan  blow  their  loos  so  cleare. 
In  his  golden  clarioune, 
Through  the  World  went  the  soune, 
All  so  kindly,  and  eke  so  soft, 
That  their  fame  was  blown  aloft.'     P. 

Ver.  378.  Next  these  a  youthful  train, 
etc.]  The  Reader  might  compare  these  twenty- 
eight  lines  following,  which  contain  the  same 
matter,  with  eighty-four  of  Chaucer,  beginning 
thus: 

*  Tho  came  the  sixth  companye. 
And  gan  faste  to  Fame  cry,  etc' 

being  too  prolix  to  be  here  inserted.    P. 

Ver.  406.  Last,  those  who  boast  of  mighty ^ 
etc.] 

*  Tho  came  another  companye. 

That  had  y-done  the  treachery,  etc'    P. 

Ver.  418.     This  having  heard  and  seen, 

etc.]     The  Scene  here  changes  from  the  temple 

of  Fame  to  that  of  Rumour,  which  is  almost 

entirely  Chaucer's.     The  particulars  follow. 

*  Tho  saw  I  stonde  in  a  valcy, 
Under  the  castle  fast  by 

A  house,  that  Domus  Dedali 
That  Labyrinthus  cleped  is, 
Nas  made  so  wonderly,  I  wis, 
Ne  half  so  queintly  y-wrought; 
And  evermo  as  swift  as  thought, 
This  queint  house  about  went 
That  never  more  is  still  stent  — 
And  eke  this  house  hath  of  entrees 
As  many  as  leaves  are  on  trees. 
In  summer,  when  they  ben  grene; 
And  in  the  roof  yet  men  may  sene 
A  thousand  hoels  and  well  mo, 
To  letten  the  soune  out  go ; 
And  by  day  in  every  tide 
Ben  all  the  doors  open  wide, 
And  by  night  each  one  unshet; 


No  porter  is  there  one  to  let. 
No  manner  ty dings  in  to  pace : 
Ne  never  rest  is  in  that  place.'    P. 

Ver.  428.  As  flames  by  nature  to  the,  etc!\ 
This  thought  is  transferred  hither  out  of  the 
third  book  of  Fame,  where  it  takes  up  no  less 
than  one  hundred  and  twenty  verses,  beginning 
thus, 

*  Geffray,  thou  wottest  well  this,  etc'    P. 

Ver.  448.  There  various  news  I  heard,  etc.] 
'  Of  werres,  of  peace,  of  marriages. 
Of  rest,  of  labour,  of  voyages. 
Of  abode,  of  dethe,  and  of  life. 
Of  love  and  hate,  accord  and  strife, 
Of  loss,  of  lore,  and  of  winnings, 
Of  hele,  of  sickness,  and  lessings. 
Of  divers  transmutations 
Of  estates  and  eke  of  regions. 
Of  truste,  of  drede,  of  jealousy, 
Of  wit,  of  winning,  and  of  folly. 
Of  good,  or  bad  government. 
Of  fire,  and  of  divers  accident.'    P. 

Ver.  458.  Above,  below,  without y  within^ 
etc.] 

*  But  such  a  grete  Congregation 
Of  folke  as  I  saw  roame  about. 
Some  within,  and  some  without. 
Was  never  seen,  ne  shall  be  eft  — 

And  every  wight  that  I  saw  there 
Rowned  everich  in  others  ear. 
A  new  tyding  privily, 
Or  else  he  told  it  openly 
Right  thus,  and  said,  Knowst  not  thou 
That  is  betide  to  night  now? 
No,  quoth  he,  tell  me  what? 
And  then  he  told  him  this  and  that,  etc.] 

Thus  north  and  south 

Went  every  tyding  fro  mouth  to  mouth. 
And  that  encreasing  evermo. 
As  fire  is  wont  to  quicken  and  go 
From  a  sparkle  sprong  amiss. 
Till  all  the  citee  brent  up  is.'    P. 
Ver.  489.     There,  at  one  passage,  etc.] 

*  And  sometime  I  saw  there  at  once, 
A  lesing  and  a  sad  sooth  saw 
That  gonnen  at  adventure  draw 
Out  of  a  window  forth  to  pace  — 
And  no  man,  be  he  ever  so  wrothe, 
Shall  have  one  of  these  two,  but  bothe,  etc' 

P. 


JANUARY  AND  MAY.  129 

JANUARY  AND   MAY: 

OR 

THE  MERCHANTS  TALE. 
FROM  CHAUCER. 

This  Translation  was  done  at  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  of  Age.  P.  [It  appeared, 
with  the  Pastorals,  in  Tonson's  Miscellany  in  1709.  Tyrwhitt  doubts  whether  the  source 
of  the  story,  although  its  scene  is  laid  in  Italy,  is  Italian ;  and  traces  the  adventure  of 
the  Pear-tree  to  Adolphus'  Latin  Fables  (1315).  The  machinery  of  the  Fairies,  he 
thinks,  was  probably  added  by  Chaucer  himself!  It  is  not  impossible  that  it  may  have 
suggested  that  of  the  Sylphs  in  the  Rape  of  the  Lock.] 


THERE  liv'd  in  Lombardy,  as  authors  write, 
In  days  of  old,  a  wise  and  worthy  knight ; 
Of  gentle  manners,  as  of  gen'rous  race, 
Blest  with  much  sense,  more  riches,  and  some  grace, 
Yet  led  astray  by  Venus'  soft  delights,  5 

He  scarce  could  rule  some  idle  appetites  : 
For  long  ago,  let  Priests  say  what  they  cou'd. 
Weak  sinful  laymen  were  but  flesh  and  blood. 

But  in  due  time,  when  sixty  years  were  o'er, 
He  vow'd  to  lead  this  vicious  life  no  more ;  10 

Whether  pure  holiness  inspir'd  his  mind. 
Or  dotage  turn'd  his  brain,  is  hard  to  find ; 
But  his  high  courage  prick'd  him  forth  to  wed. 
And  try  the  pleasures  of  a  lawful  bed. 

This  was  his  nightly  dream,  his  daily  care,  15 

And  to  the  heav'nly  pow'rs  his  constant  pray'r, 
Once,  ere  he  died,  to  taste  the  blissful  life 
Of  a  kind  husband,  and  a  loving  wife. 

These  thoughts  he  fortify'd  with  reasons  still, 
(For  none  want  reasons  to  confirm  their  will.)  20 

Grave  authors  say,  and  witty  poets  sing. 
That  honest  wedlock  is  a  glorious  thing : 
But  depth  of  judgment  most  in  him  appears, 
Who  wisely  weds  in  his  maturer  years. 

Then  let  him  choose  a  damsel  young  and  fair,  25 

To  bless  his  age,  and  bring  a  worthy  heir ; 
To  sooth  his  cares,  and,  free  from  noise  and  strife. 
Conduct  him  gently  to  the  verge  of  life. 
Let  sinful  batchelors  their  woes  deplore. 
Full  well  they  merit  all  they  feel,  and  more :  30 

Unaw'd  by  precepts,  human  or  divine. 
Like  birds  and  beasts,  promiscuously  they  join ; 


I30  JANUARY  AND  MAY, 

Nor  know  to  make  the  present  blessing  last, 

To  hope  the  future,  or  esteem  the  past : 

But  vainly  boast  the  joys  they  never  try'd,  35 

And  find  divulgM  the  secrets  they  v^^ould  hide. 

The  marry'd  man  may  bear  his  yoke  with  ease, 

Secure  at  once  himself  and  heav'n  to  please ; 

And  pass  his  inoffensive  hours  away, 

In  bliss  all  night,  and  innocence  all  day :  40 

Tho'  fortune  change,  his  constant  spouse  remains, 

Augments  his  joys,  or  mitigates  his  pains. 

But  vi^hat  so  pure,  which  envious  tongues  will  spare? 
Some  wicked  wits  have  libelPd  all  the  fair. 
With  matchless  impudence  they  style  a  wife  45 

The  dear-bought  curse,  and  lawful  plague  of  life ; 
A  bosom-serpent,  a  domestic  evil, 
A  night-invasion  and  a  mid-day-devil. 
Let  not  the  wife  these  sland'rous  words  regard, 
But  curse  the  bones  of  ev'ry  lying  bard.  50 

All  other  goods  by  fortune's  hand  are  giv'n, 
A  wife  is  the  peculiar  gift  of  heav'n : 
Vain  fortune's  favours,  never  at  a  stay, 
Like  empty  shadows,  pass,  and  glide  away ; 
One  solid  comfort,  our  eternal  wife,  55 

Abundantly  supplies  us  all  our  life : 
This  blessing  lasts,  (if  those  who  try,  say  true) 
As  long  as  heart  can  wish  —  and  longer  too. 

Our  grandsire  Adam,  ere  of  Eve  possessed, 
Alone,  and  ev'n  in  Paradise  unbless'd,  60 

With  mournful  looks  the  blissful  scenes  surveyed, 
And  wander'd  in  the  solitary  shade : 
The  Maker  saw,  took  pity,  and  bestow'd 
Woman,  the  last,  the  best  reserved  of  God. 

A  Wife !  ah  gentle  deities,  can  he  65 

That  has  a  wife,  e'er  feel  adversity? 
Would  men  but  follow  what  the  sex  advise, 
All  things  would  prosper,  all  the  world  grow  wise. 
'T  was  by  Rebecca's  aid  that  Jacob  won 

His  father's  blessing  from  an  elder  son  :  70 

Abusive  Nabal  ow'd  his  forfeit  life 
To  the  wise  conduct  of  a  prudent  wife : 
Heroic  Judith,  as  old  Hebrews  show, 
Preserv'd  the  Jews,  and  slew  th'  Assyrian  foe : 
At  Hester's  suit,  the  persecuting  sword  *j^ 

Was  sheath'd,  and  Israel  liv'd  to  bless  the  Lord. 

These  weighty  motives,  January  the  sage 
Maturely  ponder'd  in  his  riper  age ; 
And  charm'd  with  virtuous  joys,  and  sober  life, 
Would  try  that  christian  comfort,  call'd  a  wife.  8<» 

His  friends  were  summon'd  on  a  point  so  nice, 
To  pas3  their  Judgment,  and  to  give  advice } 


JANUARY  AND  MAY.  131 

But  fix'd  before,  and  well  resolv'd  was  he ; 

(As  men  that  ask  advice  are  wont  to  be). 

"  My  friends,"  he  cry'd  (and  cast  a  mournful  look  85 

Around  the  room,  and  sigh'd  before  he  spoke :) 

"  Beneath  the  weight  of  threescore  years  I  bend, 

And,  worn  with  cares,  am  hast'ning  to  my  end ; 

How  I  have  liv'd,  alas!  you  know  too  well, 

In  worldly  follies,  which  I  blush  to  tell ;  90 

But  gracious  heav'n  has  oped  my  eyes  at  last, 

With  due  regret  I  view  my  vices  past. 

And,  as  the  precept  of  the  Church  decrees, 

Will  take  a  wife,  and  live  in  holy  ease. 

But  since  by  counsel  all  things  should  be  done,  95 

And  many  heads  are  wiser  still  than  one ; 

Choose  you  for  me,  who  best  shall  be  content 

When  my  desire  's  approvM  by  your  consent. 

"  One  caution  yet  is  needful  to  be  told. 
To  guide  your  choice  ;  this  wife  must  not  be  old :  100 

There  goes  a  saying,  and  't  was  shrewdly  said. 
Old  fish  at  table,  but  young  flesh  in  bed. 
My  soul  abhors  the  tasteless,  dry  embrace 
Of  a  stale  virgin  with  a  winter  face  : 

In  that  cold  season  Love  but  treats  his  guest  105 

With  bean-straw,  and  tough  forage  at  the  best. 
No  crafty  widows  shall  approach  my  bed ; 
Those  are  too  wise  for  bachelors  to  wed ; 
As  subtle  clerks  by  many  schools  are  made, 
Twice-marry'd  dames  are  mistresses  o'  th'  trade:  1 10 

But  young  and  tender  virgins,  rul'd  with  ease, 
We  form  like  wax,  and  mould  them  as  we  please. 

"  Conceive  me.  Sirs,  nor  take  my  sense  amiss  ; 
'T  is  what  concerns  my  souPs  eternal  bliss ; 
Since  if  I  found  no  pleasure  in  my  spouse,  II5 

As  flesh  is  frail,  and  who  (God  help  me)  knows? 
Then  should  I  live  in  lewd  adultery. 
And  sink  downright  to  Satan  when  I  die. 
Or  were  I  cursM  with  an  unfruitful  bed. 

The  righteous  end  were  lost,  for  which  I  wed ;  120 

To  raise  up  seed  to  bless  the  pow'rs  above, 
And  not  for  pleasure  only,  or  for  love. 
Think  not  I  dote  ;  't  is  time  to  take  a  wife, 
When  vigorous  blood  forbids  a  chaster  life : 
Those  that  are  blest  with  store  of  grace  divine,  1 25 

May  live  like  saints,  by  heaven's  consent,  and  mine. 

"  And  since  I  speak  of  wedlock,  let  me  say, 
(As,  thank  my  stars,  in  modest  truth  I  may) 
My  limbs  are  active,  still  I  'm  sound  at  heart, 
And  a  new  vigour  springs  in  ev'ry  part.  130 

Think  not  my  virtue  lost,  tho'  time  has  shed 
These  rev'rend  honours  on  my  hoary  head ; 


M 


132  JANUARY  AND  MAY. 

Thus  trees  are  crown'd  with  blossoms  white  as  snow, 

The  vital  sap  then  rising  from  below : 

Old  as  I  am,  my  lusty  limbs  appear  135 

Like  winter  greens,  that  flourish  all  the  year. 

Now,  Sirs,  you  know  to  what  I  stand  inclined, 

Let  ev'ry  friend  with  freedom  speak  his  mind." 

He  said  ;  the  rest  in  diff  Yent  parts  divide  ; 
The  knotty  point  was  urg'd  on  either  side  :  140 

Marriage,  the  theme  on  which  they  all  declaimed, 
Some  praised  with  wit,  and  some  with  reason  blam'd. 
Till,  what  with  proofs,  objections,  and  replies, 
Each  wondVous  positive,  and  wond'rous  wise, 
There  fell  between  his  brothers  a  debate,  145 

Placebo  this  was  calPd,  and  Justin  that. 

First  to  the  Knight  Placebo  thus  begun, 
(Mild  were  his  looks,  and  pleasing  was  his  tone) 
"  Such  prudence.  Sir,  in  all  your  words  appears. 
As  plainly  proves,  experience  dwells  with  years!  150 

Yet  you  pursue  sage  Solomon's  advice. 
To  work  by  counsel  when  affairs  are  nice : 
But,  with  the  Wiseman's  leave,  I  must  protest, 
So  may  my  soul  arrive  at  ease  and  rest 
As  still  I  hold  your  own  advice  the  best.  J  155 

"  Sir,  I  have  liv'd  a  Courtier  all  my  days, 
And  study'd  men,  their  manners,  and  their  ways ; 
And  have  observed  this  useful  maxim  still, 
To  let  my  betters  always  have  their  will. 

Nay,  if  my  lord  affirmed  that  black  was  white,  160 

My  word  was  this.  Your  honour  's  in  the  right. 
Th'  assuming  Wit,  who  deems  himself  so  wise. 
As  his  mistaken  patron  to  advise, 
Let  him  not  dare  to  vent  his  dangVous  thought, 
A  noble  fool  was  never  in  a  fault.  165 

This,  Sir,  affects  not  you,  whose  ev'ry  word 
Is  weighed  with  judgment,  and  befits  a  Lord : 
Your  will  is  mine  ;  and  is  (I  will  maintain) 
Pleasing  to  God,  and  should  be  so  to  Man ; 
At  least,  your  courage  all  the  world  must  praise,  170 

Who  dare  to  wed  in  your  declining  days. 
Indulge  the  vigour  of  your  mounting  blood. 
And  let  grey  fools  be  indolently  good. 
Who,  past  all  pleasure,  damn  the  joys  of  sense, 
With  reverend  dulness  and  grave  impotence."  175 

Justin,  who  silent  sate,  and  heard  the  man. 
Thus,  with  a  Philosophic  frown,  began. 

"  A  heathen  author,  of  the  first  degree, 
(Who,  tho'  not  Faith,  had  Sense  as  well  as  we) 
Bids  us  be  certain  our  concerns  to  trust  180 

To  those  of  gen'rous  principles,  and  just. 
The  venture  's  greater,  I  '11  presume  to  say. 


JANUARY  AND  MAY,  133 

To  give  your  person,  than  your  goods  away : 

And  therefore,  Sir,  as  you  regard  your  rest, 

First  learn  your  Lady's  qualities  at  least :  185 

Whether  she  's  chaste  or  rampant,  proud  or  civil ; 

Meek  as  a  saint,  or  haughty  as  the  devil ; 

Whether  an  easy,  fond,  familiar,  fool. 

Or  such  a  wit  as  no  man  e'er  can  rule  ? 

'T  is  true,  perfection  none  must  hope  to  find  I90 

In  all  this  world,  much  less  in  woman-kind ; 

But  if  her  virtues  prove  the  larger  share. 

Bless  the  kind  fates,  and  think  your  fortune  rare. 

Ah,  gentle  Sir,  take  warning  of  a  friend. 

Who  knows  too  well  the  state  you  thus  commend ;  195 

And  spite  of  all  his  praises  must  declare. 

All  he  can  find  is  bondage,  cost,  and  care. 

Heav'n  knows,  I  shed  full  many  a  private  tear, 

And  sigh  in  silence,  lest  the  world  should  hear : 

While  all  my  friends  applaud  my  blissful  life,  200 

And  swear  no  mortal 's  happier  in  a  wife ; 

Demure  and  chaste  as  any  vestal  Nun, 

The  meekest  creature  that  beholds  the  sun! 

But,  by  th'  immortal  powers,  I  feel  the  pain, 

And  he  that  smarts  has  reason  to  complain.  205 

Do  what  you  list,  for  me ;  you  must  be  sage, 

And  cautious  sure  ;  for  wisdom  is  in  Age : 

But  at  these  years,  to  venture  on  the  fair! 

By  him,  who  made  the  ocean,  earth,  and  air, 

To  please  a  wife,  when  her  occasions  call,  210 

Would  busy  the  most  vigorous  of  us  all. 

And  trust  me,  Sir,  the  chastest  you  can  choose 

Will  ask  observance,  and  exact  her  dues. 

If  what  I  speak  my  noble  Lord  offend. 

My  tedious  sermon  here  is  at  an  end."  215 

"'T  is  well,  't  is  wondrous  well,"  the  Knight  replies, 
*^  Most  worthy  kinsman,  faith  youVe  mighty  wise  I 
We,  Sirs,  are  fools ;  and  must  resign  the  cause 
To  heath'nish  authors,  proverbs,  and  old  saws." 
He  spoke  with  scorn,  and  turn'd  another  way :  —  220 

"  What  does  my  friend,  my  dear  Placebo  say  ? " 

"I  say,"  quoth  he,  "  by  heav'n  the  man  's  to  blame,  , 
To  slander  wives,  and  wedlock's  holy  name." 
At  this  the  council  rose,  without  delay ; 

Each,  in  his  own  opinion,  went  his  way ;  225 

With  full  consent,  that,  all  disputes  appeas'd, 
The  knight  should  marry,  when  and  where  he  pleased. 

Who  now  but  January  exults  with  joy? 
The  charms  of  wedlock  all  his  soul  employ : 
Each  nymph  by  turns  his  wav'ring  mind  possest,  230 

And  reign'd  the  short-liv'd  tyrant  of  his  breast ; 
While  fancy  pictur'd  ev'ry  lively  part, 


134  JANUARY  AND  MAY, 

And  each  bright  image  wanderM  o'er  his  heart. 

Thus,  in  some  public  Forum  fixM  on  high, 

A  Mirror  shows  the  figures  moving  by  ;  235 

Still  one  by  one,  in  swift  succession,  pass 

The  gliding  shadows  o'er  the  polished  glass. 

This  Lady's  charms  the  nicest  could  not  blame, 

But  vile  suspicions  had  aspers'd  her  fame ; 

That  was  with  sense,  but  not  with  virtue,  blest ;  240 

And  one  had  grace,  that  wanted  all  the  rest. 

Thus  doubting  long  what  nymph  he  should  obey, 

He  fix'd  at  last  upon  the  youthful  May. 

Her  faults  he  knew  not.  Love  is  always  blind, 

But  ev'ry  charm  revolv'd  within  his  mind :  245 

Her  tender  age,  her  form  divinely  fair, 

Her  easy  motion,  her  attractive  air, 

Her  sweet  behaviour,  her  en^zhanting  face. 

Her  moving  softness,  and  majestic  grace. 

Much  in  his  prudence  did  our  Knight  rejoice,  250 

And  thought  no  mortal  could  dispute  his  choice : 
Once  more  in  haste  he  summoned  ev'ry  friend. 
And  told  them  all,  their  pains  were  at  an  end. 
"  Heav'n,  that  "  (said  he)  "  inspired  me  first  to  wed, 
Provides  a  consort  worthy  of  my  bed  :  255 

Let  none  oppose  th'  election,  since  on  this 
Depends  my  quiet,  and  my  future  bliss. 

"  A  dame  there  is,  the  darling  of  my  eyes, 
Young,  beauteous,  artless,  innocent,  and  wise ; 
Chaste,  tho'  not  rich  ;  and  tho'  not  nobly  born,  260 

Of  honest  parents,  and  may  serve  my  turn. 
Her  will  I  wed,  if  gracious  heav'n  so  please ; 
To  pass  my  age  in  sanctity  and  ease : 
And  thank  the  pow'rs,  I  may  possess  alone 
The  lovely  prize,  and  share  my  bliss  with  none!  265 

If  you,  my  friends,  this  virgin  can  procure. 
My  joys  are  full,  my  happiness  is  sure. 

"  One  only  doubt  remains :  Full  oft  I  Ve  heard, 
By  casuists  grave,  and  deep  divines  averr'd ; 
That  't  is  too  much  for  human  race  to  know  270 

The  bliss  of  heav'n  above,  and  earth  below. 
Now  should  the  nuptial  pleasures  prove  so  great, 
To  match  the  blessings  of  the  future  state, 
Those  endless  joys  were  ill  exchang'd  for  these ; 
Then  clear  this  doubt,  and  set  my  mind  at  ease."  275 

This  Justin  heard,  nor  could  his  spleen  control, 
Touch'd  to  the  quick,  and  tickled  at  the  soul. 
"  Sir  Knight,"  he  cry'd,  "  if  this  be  all  you  dread, 
Heav'n  put  it  past  your  doubt,  whene'er  you  wed ; 
And  to  my  fervent  pray'rs  so  far  consent,  280 

That  ere  the  rites  are  o'er,  you  may  repent! 
Good  heav'n,  no  doubt,  the  nuptial  state  approves, 


JANUARY  AND  MAY.  135 

Since  it  chastises  still  what  best  it  loves. 

"  Then  be  not,  Sir,  abandon^  to  despair ;  | 

Seek,  and  perhaps  you  Ul  find  among  the  fair,  >  285 

One,  that  may  do  your  business  to  a  hair ;  J 

Not  ev'n  in  wish,  your  happiness  delay. 
But  prove  the  scourge  to  lash  you  on  your  way : 
Then  to  the  skies  your  mounting  soul  shall  go, 
Swift  as  an  arrow  soaring  from  the  bow!  290 

Provided  still,  you  moderate  your  joy, 
Nor  in  your  pleasures  all  your  might  employ, 
Let  reason^s  rule  your  strong  desires  abate. 
Nor  please  too  lavishly  your  gentle  mate. 

Old  wives  there  are,  of  judgment  most  acute,  295 

Who  solve  these  questions  beyond  all  dispute ; 
Consult  with  those,  and  be  of  better  cheer ; 
Marry,  do  penance,  and  dismiss  your  fear." 

So  said,  they  rose,  nor  more  the  work  delay'd ; 
The  match  was  offerM,  the  proposals  made.  300 

The  parents,  you  may  think,  would  soon  comply ; 
The  Old  have  infrest  ever  in  their  eye. 
Nor  was  it  hard  to  move  the  Lady's  mind ; 
When  Fortune  favours,  still  the  Fair  are  kind. 

I  pass  each  previous  settlement  and  deed,  305 

Too  long  for  me  to  write,  or  you  to  read ; 
Nor  will  with  quaint  impertinence  display 
The  pomp,  the  pageantry,  the  proud  array. 
The  time  approachM,  to  Church  the  parties  went, 
At  once  with  carnal  and  devout  intent :  310 

Forth  came  the  Priest,  and  bade  th'  obedient  wife 
Like  Sarah  or  Rebecca  lead  her  life : 
Then  pray'd  the  powVs  the  fruitful  bed  to  bless, 
And  made  all  sure  enough  with  holiness. 

And  now  the  palace-gates  are  opened  wide,  ")  315 

The  guests  appear  in  order,  side  by  side. 
And  plac'd  in  state,  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride. 
The  breathing  flute's  soft  notes  are  heard  around. 
And  the  shrill  trumpets  mix  their  silver  sound ; 
The  vaulted  roofs  with  echoing  music  ring,  320 

These  touch  the  vocal  stops,  and  those  the  trembling  string. 
Not  thus  Amphion  tun'd  the  warbling  lyre, 
Nor  Joab  the  sounding  clarion  could  inspire, 
Nor  fierce  Theodamas,  whose  sprightly  strain 
Could  swell  the  soul  to  rage,  and  fire  the  martial  train.^        325 

Bacchus  himself,  the  nuptial  feast  to  grace, 
(So  Poets  sing)  was  present  on  the  place : 
And  lovely  Venus,  Goddess  of  delight. 
Shook  high  her  flaming  torch  in  open  sight : 

1  [Tyrwhitt  suspects  that  Chaucer  had  met    but  is  otherwise  unknown,  in  some  Romantic 
with  the  name  of  Theodamas,  who  occurs  again    History  of  Thebes.] 
as  a  famous  trumpeter  in  the  House  of  Fame, 


136  JANUARY  AND  MAY, 

And  dancM  around,  and  smiPd  on  ev'ry  Knight :  330 

Pleased  her  best  servant  would  his  courage  try, 

No  less  in  wedlock,  than  in  liberty. 

Full  many  an  age  old  Hymen  had  not  spy'd 

So  kind  a  bridegroom,  or  so  bright  a  bride. 

Ye  bards !  renown'd  among  the  tuneful  throng  335 

For  gentle  lays,  and  joyous  nuptial  song; 

Think  not  your  softest  numbers  can  display 

The  matchless  glories  of  this  blissful  day  : 

The  joys  are  such,  as  far  transcend  your  rage, 

When  tender  youth  has  wedded  stooping  age.  340 

The  beauteous  dame  sate  smiling  at  the  board, 
And  darted  amVous  glances  at  her  Lord. 
Not  Hester's  self,  whose  charms  the  Hebrews  sing, 
E'er  looked  so  lovely  on  her  Persian  King : 
Bright  as  the  rising  sun,  in  summer's  day,  345 

And  fresh  and  blooming  as  the  month  of  May! 
The  joyful  Knight  survey'd  her  by  his  side, 
Nor  envy'd  Paris  with  the  Spartan  bride : 
Still  as  his  mind  revolv'd  with  vast  delight 
Th'  entrancing  raptures  of  th'  approaching  night,  350 

Restless  he  sate,  invoking  evVy  pow'r 
To  speed  his  bliss,  and  haste  the  happy  hour. 
Mean  time  the  vigorous  dancers  beat  the  ground, 
And  songs  were  sung,  and  flowing  bowls  went  round. 
With  od'rous  spices  they  perfum'd  the  place,  355 

And  mirth  and  pleasure  shone  in  ev'ry  face. 

Damian  alone,  of  all  the  menial  train. 
Sad  in  the  midst  of  triumphs,  sigh'd  for  pain ; 
Damian  alone,  the  Knight's  obsequious  squire, 
Consumed  at  heart,  and  fed  a  secret  fire.  360 

His  lovely  mistress  all  his  soul  possessed. 
He  look'd,  he  languished,  and  could  take  no  rest : 
His  task  performed,  he  sadly  went  his  way. 
Fell  on  his  bed,  and  loath'd  the  light  of  day. 
There  let  him  lie ;  till  his  relenting  dame  365 

Weep  in  her  turn,  and  waste  in  equal  flame. 

The  weary  sun,  as  learned  Poets  write. 
Forsook  th'  Horizon,  and  roll'd  down  the  light ; 
While  glitt'ring  stars  his  absent  beams  supply. 
And  night's  dark  mantle  overspread  the  sky.  370 

Then  rose  the  guests ;  and  as  the  time  required, 
Each  paid  his  thanks,  and  decently  retir'd. 

The  foe  once  gone,  our  Knight  prepared  f  undress, 
So  keen  he  was,  and  eager  to  possess  : 

But  first  thought  fit  th'  assistance  to  receive,  375 

Which  grave  Physicians  scruple  not  to  give ; 
Satyrion  near,  with  hot  Eringo's  stood,^ 

1  Sea-holly.    Johnson* 


JANUARY  AND  MAY.  137 

Cantharides,  to  fire  the  lazy  blood, 

Whose  use  old  Bards  describe  in  luscious  rhymes,* 

And  Critics  learn'd  explain  to  modern  times.  380 

By  this  the  sheets  were  spread,  the  bride  undress'd, 
The  room  was  sprinkled,  and  the  bed  was  bless'd. 
What  next  ensu'd  beseems  not  me  to  say ; 
'T  is  sung,  he  labour^l  till  the  dawning  day, 
Then  briskly  sprung  from  bed,  with  heart  so  light,      '^         385 
As  all  were  nothing  he  had  done  by  night ;  \ 

And  sipp'd  his  cordial  as  he  sate  upright.  J 

He  kiss'd  his  balmy  spouse  with  wanton  play, 
And  feebly  sung  a  lusty  roundelay : 

Then  on  the  couch  his  weary  limbs  he  cast ;  390 

For  ev'ry  labour  must  have  rest  at  last. 

But  anxious  cares  the  pensive  Squire  oppressed, 
Sleep  fled  his  eyes,  and  peace  forsook  his  breast ; 
The  raging  flames  that  in  his  bosom  dwell. 
He  wanted  art  to  hide,  and  means  to  tell.  395 

Yet  hoping  time  th'  occasion  might  betray, 
Composed  a  sonnet  to  the  lovely  May ; 
Which  writ  and  folded  with  the  nicest  art. 
He  wrappM  in  silk,  and  laid  upon  his  heart. 

When  now  the  fourth  revolving  day  was  run,  400 

('T  was  June,  and  Cancer  had  receivM  the  Sun) 
Forth  from  her  chamber  ciame  the  beauteous  bride ; 
The  good  old  knight  mov'd  slowly  by  her  side. 
High  mass  was  sung ;  they  feasted  in  the  hall ; 
The  servants  round  stood  ready  at  their  call.  405 

The  Squire  alone  was  absent  from  the  board, 
And  much  his  sickness  griev'd  his  worthy  lord. 
Who  pray'd  his  spouse,  attended- with  her  train, 
To  visit  Damian,  and  divert  his  pain. 

Th'  obliging  dames  obey'd  with  one  consent ;  410 

They  left  the  hall,  and  to  his  lodging  went. 
The  female  tribe  surround  him  as  he  lay. 
And  close  beside  him  sat  the  gentle  May : 
Where,  as  she  try'd  his  pulse,  he  softly  drew 
A  heaving  sigh,  and  cast  a  mournful  view!  415 

Then  gave  his  bill,^  and  bribM  the  pow'rs  divine, 
With  secret  vows  to  favour  his  design. 

Who  studies  now  but  discontented  May? 
On  her  soft  couch  uneasily  she  lay : 

The  lumpish  husband  snor'd  away  the  night,  420 

Till  coughs  awak'd  him  near  the  morning  light. 
What  then  he  did,  I  '11  not  presume  to  tell. 
Nor  if  she  thought  herself  in  heav'n  or  hell : 
Honest  and  dull  in  nuptial  bed  they  lay. 
Till  the  bell  tolPd,  and  all  arose  to  pray.  425 

*  [Ovid,  in  his  Re  media  Amor  is. 1  2  £i.e.  gave  her  what  he  had  written.] 


138  JANUARY  AND  MAY. 

Were  it  by  forceful  destiny  decreed, 
Or  did  from  chance,  or  nature's  pow'r  proceed ; 
Or  that  some  star,  with  aspect  kind  to  love, 
Shed  its  selectest  influence  from  above ; 

Whatever  was  the  cause,  the  tender  dame  430 

Felt  the  first  motions  of  an  infant  flame ; 
Received  th'  impressions  of  the  love-sick  Squire, 
And  wasted  in  the  soft  infectious  fire. 
Ye  fair,  draw  near,  let  May's  example  move 
Your  gentle  minds  to  pity  those  who  love !  435 

Had  some  fierce  tyrant  in  her  stead  been  found, 
The  poor  adorer  sure  had  hang'd,  or  drown'd : 
But  she,  your  sex's  mirror,  free  from  pride. 
Was  much  too  meek  to  prove  a  homicide. 

But  to  my  tale :  Some  sages  have  defin'd  440 

Pleasure  the  sov'reign  bliss  of  humankind  : 
Our  Knight  (who  study'd  much,  we  may  suppose) 
Deriv'd  his  high  philosophy  from  those ; 
For,  like  a  Prince,  he  bore  the  vast  expence 
Of  lavish  pomp,  and  proud  magnificence  :  445 

His  house  was  stately,  his  retinue  gay, 
Large  was  his  train,  and  gorgeous  his  array. 
His  spacious  garden  made  to  yield  to  none, 
Was  compass'd  round  with  walls  of  solid  stone  \ 
Priapus  could  not  half  describe  the  grace  450 

(Tho'  God  of  gardens)  of  this  charming  place : 
A  place  to  tire  the  rambling  wits  of  France 
In  long  descriptions,  and  exceed  Romance ; 
li-   J  Enough  to  shame  the  gentlest  bard  that  sings 

^  Of  painted  meadows,  and  of  purling  springs.  455 

Full  in  the  centre  of  the  flow'ry  ground,  'j 

A  crystal  fountain  spread  its  streams  around,  \ 

The  fruitful  banks  with  verdant  laurels  crown'd :       J 
About  this  spring  (if  ancient  fame  say  true) 
The  dapper  Elves  their  moon-light  sports  pursue :  460 

Their  pygmy  king,^  and  little  fairy  queen. 
In  circling  dances  gamboll'd  on  the  green, 
While  tuneful  sprites  a  merry  concert  made. 
And  airy  music  warbled  thro'  the  shade. 

Hither  the  noble  knight  would  oft  repair,  465 

(His  scene  of  pleasure,  and  peculiar  care) 
For  this  he  held  it  dear,  and  always  bore 
The  silver  key  that  lock'd  the  garden  door. 
To  this  sweet  place  in  summer's  sultry  heat, 
He  us'd  from  noise  and  bus'ness  to  retreat ;  470 

And  here  in  dalliance  spend  the  live-long  day. 
Solus  cum  sola,  with  his  sprightly  May. 

1  Their  pygmy  king.']     Pope  has  here  shewn    of  Shakespear  and  Milton.     Chaucer  has  '  Kyng 
his  judgment  in  adopting  the  lighter  '  fairy  race  '     Pluto,  and  his  Queene  Proserpina.'    Bowles, 


^ 


JANUARY  AND  MAY.  139 

For  whatever  work  was  undischarged  a-bed, 
I  The  duteous  knight  in  this  fair  garden  sped. 

.  ^  But  ah !  what  mortal  lives  of  bliss  secure,  475 

How  short  a  space  our  worldly  joys  endure? 

O  Fortune,  fair,  like  all  thy  treach'rous  kind, 

But  faithless  still,  and  wavVing  as  the  wind! 

O  painted  monster,  form'd  mankind  to  cheat, 
V_  With  pleasing  poison,  and  with  soft  deceit!  480 

This  rich,  this  am'^rous,  venerable  knight. 

Amidst  his  ease,  his  solace,  and  delight. 

Struck  blind  by  thee,  resigns  his  days  to  grief, 

And  calls  on  death,  the  wretch's  last  relief. 

The  rage  of  jealousy  then  seiz'd  his  mind,  485 

For  much  he  fear'd  the  faith  of  woman-kind. 

His  wife  not  sufFer'd  from  his  side  to  stray,  \ 

Was  captive  kept,  he  watched  her  night  and  day,        > 

Abridged  her  pleasures  and  confin'd  her  sway.  J 

Full  oft  in  tears  did  hapless  May  complain,  490 

And  sigh'd  full  oft ;  but  sigh'd  and  wept  in  vain ; 

She  look'd  on  Damian  with  a  lover's  eye ; 

For  oh,  't  was  fixt ;  she  must  possess  or  die! 

Nor  less  impatience  vex'd  her  am'rous  Squire, 

Wild  with  delay,  and  burning  with  desire.  495 

Watch'd  as  she  was,  yet  could  he  not  refrain, 

By  secret  writing  to  disclose  his  pain : 

The  dame  by  signs  reveaPd  her  kind  intent, 

Till  both  were  conscious  what  each  other  meant. 

Ah,  gentle  knight,  what  would  thy  eyes  avail,  500 

Tho'  they  could  see  as  far  as  ships  can  sail  ? 

'T  is  better,  sure,  when  blind,  deceived  to  be, 
JThan  be  deluded  when  a  man  can  see! 
r     Argus  himself,  so  cautious  and  so  wise, 
!  Was  over-watch'd,  for  all  his  hundred  eyes :  505 

So  many  an  honest  husband  may,  't  is  known 
,   Who,  wisely,  never  thinks  the  case  his  own. 
""     The  dame  at  last,  by  diligence  and  care, 

Procured  the  key  her  knight  was  wont  to  bear ; 

She  took  the  wards  in  wax  before  the  fire,  ^\o 

And  gave  th'  impression  to  the  trusty  Squire. 

By  means  of  this,  some  wonder  shall  appear. 

Which,  in  due  place  and  season,  you  may  hear. 
Well  sung  sweet  Ovid,  in  the  days  of  yore, 

What  sleight  is  that,  which  love  will  not  explore?  515 

And  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  plainly  show 

The  feats  true  lovers,  when  they  list,  can  do : 

Tho'  watch'd  and  captive,  yet  in  spite  of  all. 

They  found  the  art  of  kissing  thro'  a  wall. 

But  now  no  longer  from  our  tale  to  stray ;  ^  5^0 

It  happ'd  that  once  upon  a  summer's  day,  > 

Our  rev'rend  Knight  was  urg'd  to  am'rous  play :        J 


140  JANUARY  AND  MAY. 

He  rais'd  his  spouse  ere  Matin-bell  was  rung, 
And  thus  his  morning  canticle  he  sung. 

"Awake,  my  love,  disclose  thy  radiant  eyes;  525 

Arise,  my  wife,  my  beauteous  lady,  rise ! 
Hear  how  the  doves  with  pensive  notes  complain, 
And  in  soft  murmurs  tell  the  trees  their  pain : 
The  winter 's  past ;  the  clouds  and  tempest  fly ; 
The  sun  adorns  the  fields,  and  brightens  all  the  sky.  530 

Fair  without  spot,  whose  ev'ry  charming  part 
My  bosom  wounds,  and  captivates  my  heart ; 
Come,  and  in  mutual  pleasures  let 's  engage, 
Joy  of  my  hfe,  and  comfort  of  my  age." 

This  heard,  to  Damian  straight  a  sign  she  made,  535 

To  haste  before  ;  the  gentle  Squire  obey'd : 
Secret,  and  undescry'd  he  took  his  way, 
And  ambushed  close  behind  an  arbour  lay. 

It  was  not  long  ere  January  came. 
And  hand  in  hand  with  him  his  lovely  dame ;  540 

Blind  as  he  was,  not  doubting  all  was  sure, 
He  turnM  the  key,  and  made  the  gate  secure. 

"  Here  let  us  walk,"  he  said,  "  observed  by  none, 
Conscious  of  pleasures  to  the  world  unknown : 
So  may  my  soul  have  joy,  as  thou,  my  wife,  545 

Art  far  the  dearest  solace  of  my  life  ; 
And  rather  would  I  choose,  by  heav'n  above. 
To  die  this  instant,  than  to  lose  thy  love. 
Reflect  what  truth  was  in  my  passion  shewn, 
When  unendowed,  I  took  thee  for  my  own,  \  550 

And  sought  no  treasure  but  thy  heart  alone. 
Old  as  I  am,  and  now  deprived  of  sight. 
Whilst  thou  art  faithful  to  thy  own  true  Knight, 
Nor  age,  nor  blindness  rob  me  of  delight. 
Each  other  loss  with  patience  I  can  bear,  '  555 

The  loss  of  thee  is  what  1  only  fear. 

"  Consider  then,  my  lady  and  my  wife. 
The  solid  comforts  of  a  virtuous  life. 
As  first,  the  love  of  Christ  himself  you  gain ; 
Next,  your  own  honour  undefil'd  maintain ;  ^^  560 

And  lastly,  that  which  sure  your  mind  must  move, 
My  whole  estate  shall  gratify  your  love  : 
Make  your  own  terms,  and  ere  to-morrow's  sun 
Displays  his  light,  by  heav'n  it  shall  be  done. 
I  seal  the  contract  with  a  holy  kiss,  565 

f  ^  And  will  perform,  by  this  —  my  dear,  and  this  — 

^  Have  comfort,  spouse,  nor  think  thy  Lord  unkind ; 

^  'T  is  love,  not  jealousy,  that  fires  my  mind. 

For  when  thy  charms  my  sober  thoughts  engage. 

And  join'd  to  them  my  own  unequal  age,  570 

From  thy  dear  side  I  have  no  pow'r  to  part. 

Such  secret  transports  warm  my  melting  heart 


JANUARY  AND  MAY.  141 

For  who  that  once  possess  those  heav'nly  charms, 
Could  live  one  moment  absent  from  thy  arms  ?  " 

He  ceasM,  and  May  with  modest  grace  reply'd ;  575 

(Weak  was  her  voice,  as  while  she  spoke  she  cry'd : ) 
"  Heav'n  knows  "  (with  that  a  tender  sigh  she  drew) 
"  I  have  a  soul  to  save  as  well  as  you : 
And,  what  no  less  you  to  my  charge  commend, 
My  dearest  honour,  will  to  death  defend.  580 

To  you  in  holy  Church  I  gave  my  hand, 
And  join'd  my  heart  in  wedlock's  sacred  band : 
Yet  after  this,  if  you  distrust  my  care. 
Then  hear,  my  Lord,  and  witness  what  I  swear: 

"  First  may  the  yawning  earth  her  bosom  rend,  585 

And  let  me  hence  to  hell  alive  descend ; 
Or  die  the  death  I  dread  no  less  than  hell, 
Sew'd  in  a  sack,  and  plung'd  into  a  well : 
Ere  I  my  fame  by  one  lewd  act  disgrace, 

Or  once  renounce  the  honour  of  my  race.  590 

For  know.  Sir  Knight,  of  gentle  blood  I  came, 
I  loathe  a  whore,  and  startle  at  the  name. 
But  jealous  men  on  their  own  crimes  reflect, 
And  learn  from  thence  their  ladies  to  suspect : 
Else  why  these  needless  cautions.  Sir,  to  me?  595 

These  doubts  and  fears  of  female  constancy ! 
This  chime  still  rings  in  evYy  lady's  ear. 
The  only  strain  a  wife  must  hope  to  hear." 

Thus  while  she  spoke  a  sidelong  glance  she  cast, 
Where  Damian  kneeling,  worshipped  as  she  past.  600 

She  saw  him  watch  the  motions  of  her  eye, 
And  singled  out  a  pear-tree  planted  nigh  : 
'T  was  charg'd  with  fruit  that  made  a  goodly  show, 
And  hung  with  dangling  pears  was  evVy  bough. 
Thither  th'  obsequious  Squire  addressed  his  pace,  605 

And  climbing,  in  the  summit  took  his  place ; 
The  Knight  and  Lady  walk'd  beneath  in  view, 
Where  let  us  leave  them,  and  our  tale  pursue. 

'T  was  now  the  season  when  the  glorious  sun 
His  heav'nly  progress  thro'  the  Twins  had  run ;  610 

And  Jove,  exalted,  his  mild  influence  yields, 
To  glad  the  glebe,  and  paint  the  flow'ry  fields : 
Clear  was  the  day,  and  Phoebus  rising  bright. 
Had  streak'd  the  azure  firmament  with  light ; 
He  pierc'd  the  glitt'ring  clouds  with  golden  streams,  615 

And  warm'd  the  womb  of  earth  with  genial  beams. 

It  so  befel,  in  that  fair  morning-tide. 
The  Fairies  sported  on  the  garden  side, 
And  in  their  midst  their  Monarch  and  his  bride. 
So  featly  tripp'd  the  light-foot  ladies  round,  \  620 

The  knights  so  nimbly  o'er  the  green  sword  bound, 
That  scarce  they  bent  the  flow'rs,  or  touch'd  the  ground. 


142  JANUARY  AND  MAY, 

The  dances  ended,  all  the  fairy  train 

For  pinks  and  daisies  search^  the  flow'ry  plain ; 

While  on  a  bank  reclined  of  rising  green,  625 

Thus,  with  a  frown,  the  King  bespoke  his  Queen. 

"  'T  is  too  apparent,  argue  what  you  can, 
The  treachery  you  women  use  to  man : 
A  thousand  authors  have  this  truth  made  out, 
And  sad  experience  leaves  no  room  for  doubt.  630 

"  Heaven  rest  thy  spirit,  noble  Solomon, 
A  wiser  monarch  never  saw  the  sun  : 
All  wealth,  all  honours,  the  supreme  degree 
Of  earthly  bliss,  was  well  bestow'd  on  thee! 
For  sagely  hast  thou  said  :  Of  all  mankind,  635 

One  only  just,  and  righteous,  hope  to  find : 
But  should'st  thou  search  the  spacious  world  around, 
Yet  one  good  woman  is  not  to  be  found. 

"  Thus  says  the  King  who  knew  your  wickedness ; 
The  son  of  Sirach  testifies  no  less.  640 

So  may  some  wildfire  on  your  bodies  fall. 
Or  some  devouring  plague  consume  you  all ; 
As  well  you  view  the  lecher  in  the  tree, 
And  well  this  honourable  Knight  you  see : 
But  since  he  's  blind  and  old  (a  helpless  case)  645 

His  Squire  shall  cuckold  him  before  your  face. 

"  Now  by  my  own  dread  majesty  I  swear, 
And  by  this  awful  sceptre  which  I  bear. 
No  impious  wretch  shall  'scape  unpunished  long. 
That  in  my  presence  offers  such  a  wrong.  650 

I  will  this  instant  undeceive  the  Knight, 
And,  in  the  very  act  restore  his  sight : 
And  set  the  strumpet  here  in  open  view, 
A  warning  to  these  Ladies,  and  to  you. 
And  all  the  faithless  sex,  for  ever  to  be  true."  J        655 

"And  will  you  so,"  reply'd  the  Queen,  "indeed? 
Now,  by  mother's  soul  it  is  decreed. 
She  shall  not  want  an  answer  at  her  need. 
For  her,  and  for  her  daughters,  I  '11  engage, 
And  all  the  sex  in  each  succeeding  age ;  660 

Art  shall  be  theirs  to  varnish  an  offence, 
And  fortify  their  crimes  with  confidence. 
Nay,  were  they  taken  in  a  strict  embrace, 
Seen  with  both  eyes,  and  pinion'd  on  the  place ; 
All  they  shall  need  is  to  protest  and  swear,  665 

Breathe  a  soft  sigh,  and  drop  a  tender  tear ; 
Till  their  wise  husbands,  guU'd  by  arts  like  these, 
Grow  gentle,  tractable,  and  tame  as  geese. 

"  What  tho'  this  sland'rous  Jew,  this  Solomon, 
Call'd  women  fools,  and  knew  full  many  a  one ;  670 

The  wiser  wits  of  later  times  declare. 
How  constant,  chaste,  and  virtuous  women  are : 


JANUARY  AND  MAY.  143 

Witness  the  martyrs,  who  resign'd  their  breath, 

Serene  in  torments,  unconcern'd  in  death ; 

And  witness  next  what  Roman  Authors  tell,  675 

How  Arria,  Portia,  and  Lucretia  fell. 

"  But  since  the  sacred  leaves  to  all  are  free. 
And  men  interpret  texts,  why  should  not  we? 
By  this  no  more  was  meant,  than  to  have  shown,  ") 

That  sov'reign  goodness  dwells  in  him  alone  >       680 

Who  only  Is,  and  is  but  only  One.  J 

But  grant  the  worst ;  shall  women  then  be  weigh'd 
By  evVy  word  that  Solomon  has  said? 
What  tho'  this  King  (as  ancient  story  boasts) 
Built  a  fair  temple  to  the  Lord  of  hosts  ;  685 

He  ceas'd  at  last  his  Maker  to  adore. 
And  did  as  much  for  Idol  gods,  or  more. 
Beware  what  lavish  praises  you  confer 
On  a  rank  lecher  and  idolater ; 

Whose  reign  indulgent  God,  says  holy  writ,  690 

Did  but  for  David's  righteous  sake  permit ; 
David,  the  monarch  after  heav'n's  own  mind, 
Who  lov'd  our  sex,  and  honoured  all  our  kind. 

"  Well,  I  'm  a  Woman,  and  as  such  must  speak ; 
Silence  would  swell  me,  and  my  heart  would  break.  695 

Know  then,  I  scorn  your  dull  authorities, 
Your  idle  wits,  and  all  their  learned  lies. 
By  heav'n,  those  authors  are  our  sex's  foes. 
Whom,  in  our  right,  I  must  and  will  oppose." 

*J  Nay,"  (quoth  the  King),  "  dear  Madam,  be  not  wroth  :  700 
I  yield  it  up ;  but  since  I  gave  my  oath, 
That  this  much-injur'd  Knight  again  should  see ; 
It  must  be  done  —  I  am  a  King,"  said  he, 
"And  one,  whose  faith  has  ever  sacred  been." 

"  And  so  has  mine  "  (she  said)  —  "  I  am  a  Queen :  705 

Her  answer  she  shall  have,  I  undertake  ; 
And  thus  an  end  of  all  dispute  I  make. 
Try  when  you  list ;  and  you  shall  find,  my  Lord, 
It  is  not  in  our  sex  to  break  our  word." 

We  leave  them  here  in  this  heroic  strain,  710 

And  to  the  Knight  our  story  turns  again ; 
Who  in  the  garden,  with  his  lovely  May, 
Sung  merrier  than  the  Cuckoo  or  the  Jay : 
This  was  his  song ;  "  Oh  kind  and  constant  be, 
Constant  and  kind  I'll  ever  prove  to  thee."  715 

Thus  singing  as  he  went,  at  last  he  drew 
By  easy  steps,  to  where  the  Pear-tree  grew  : 
The  longing  dame  look'd  up,  and  spy'd  her  Love 
Full  fairly  perch'd  among  the  boughs  above. 
She  stopp'd,  and  sighing :  "  Oh  good  Gods,"  she  cry'd,         720 
"  What  pangs,  what  sudden  shoots  distend  my  side  ? 
O  for  that  tempting  fruit,  so  fresh,  so  green ; 


144  JAA/uARY  AND  MAY, 

Help,  for  the  love  of  heaven's  immortal  Queen! 

Help,  dearest  lord,  and  save  at  once  the  life 

Of  thy  poor  infant,  and  thy  longing  wife!  "  725 

Sore  sighM  the  Knight  to  hear  his  Lady's  cry, 

But  could  not  climb,  and  had  no  servant  nigh : 

Old  as  he  was,  and  void  of  eye-sight  too. 

What  could,  alas,  a  helpless  husband  do? 

"  And  must  I  languish  then,"  she  said,  ^'  and  die,  730 

Yet  view  the  lovely  fruit  before  my  eye  ? 

At  least,  kind  Sir,  for  charity's  sweet  sake. 

Vouchsafe  the  trunk  between  your  arms  to  take ; 

Then  from  your  back  I  might  ascend  the  tree ; 

Do  you  but  stoop,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me."  735 

"  With  all  my  soul,"  he  thus  reply'd  again, 

"  I  'd  spend  my  dearest  blood  to  ease  thy  pain." 

With  that,  his  back  against  the  trunk  he  bent, 

She  seizM  a  twig,  and  up  the  tree  she  went. 

Now  prove  your  patience,  gentle  Ladies  all!  740 

Nor  let  on  me  your  heavy  anger  fall : 

'T  is  truth  I  tell,  tho'  not  in  phrase  refin'd ; 

Tho'  blunt  my  tale,  yet  honest  is  my  mind. 

What  feats  the  lady  in  the  tree  might  do, 

I  pass,  as  gambols  never  known  to  you ;  745 

But  sure  it  was  a  merrier  fit,  she  swore. 

Than  in  her  life  she  ever  felt  before. 

In  that  nice  moment,  lo!  the  wondVing  knight 

Look'd  out,  and  stood  restored  to  sudden  sight. 

Straight  on  the  tree  his  eager  eyes  he  bent,  750 

As  one  whose  thoughts  were  on  his  spouse  intent ; 
^    -  But  when  he  saw  his  bosom-wife  so  dress'd, 

j3^  o-  .  His  rage  was  such  as  cannot  be  expressed  : 
\M^  LT  j  ]sjot  frantic  mothers  when  their  infants  die, 
^      V^v  N^    j  With  louder  clamours  rend  the  vaulted  sky :  755 

p      r3        y^        ^^  cryM,  he  roar'd,  he  storm'd,  he  tore  his  hair ; 

J        \j  "  Death !  hell !  and  furies !  what  dost  thou  do  there  ?  " 

J       \  "  What  ails  my  lord  ?  "  the  trembling  dame  reply'd ; 

^    ^  "I  thought  your  patience  had  been  better  try'd  : 

J  Is  this  your  love,  ungrateful  and  unkind,  760 

r  This  my  reward  for  having  cur'd  the  blind? 

Why  was  I  taught  to  make  my  husband  see, 

By  struggling  with  a  Man  upon  a  Tree  ? 

Did  I  for  this  the  pow'r  of  magic  prove? 

Unhappy  wife,  whose  crime  was  too  much  love!"  765 

"  If  this  be  struggling,  by  this  holy  light, 

'T  is  struggling  with  a  vengeance,"  (quoth  the  Knight), 

"  So  heav'n  preserve  the  sight  it  has  restored, 

As  with  these  eyes  I  plainly  saw  thee  whor'd ; 

Whor'd  by  my  slave  —  perfidious  wretch!  may  hell  770 

As  surely  seize  thee,  as  I  saw  too  well." 

"  Guard  me,  good  angels! "  cry'd  the  gentle  May, 


vy 


JANUARY  AND  MAY,  145 

"  Pray  heaven,  this  magic  work  the  proper  way! 

Alas,  my  love !  't  is  certain,  could  you  see, 

You  ne'er  had  usM  these  killing  words  to  me ;  775 

So  help  me,  fates,  as  't  is  no  perfect  sight. 

But  some  faint  glimmering  of  a  doubtful  light." 

"What  I  have  said"  (quoth  he), "I  must  maintain, 
For,  by  th'  immortal  powers  'A  seern'' d  loo  plain  —  " 

"  By  all  those  pow'rs,  some  frenzy  seiz'd  your  mind,"  "j    780 

(Reply'd  the  dame,)  "are  these  the  thanks  I  find?  > 

Wretch  that  I  am,  that  e'er  I  was  so  kind! "  J 

She  said  ;  a  rising  sigh  expressed  her  woe,       -^ 
The  ready  tears  apace  began  to  flow,  I  \  \   i 

And  as  they  fell  she  wip'd  from  either  eye  [     cX^-'^^^l         785 

The  drops  (for  women,  when  they  list,  can  cry).}  x 

The  Knight  was  touch'd ;  and  in  his  looks  appeared  ( 
Signs  of  remorse,  while  thus  his  spouse  he  cheer'd.  ^ 
"  Madam,  't  is  past,  and  my  short  anger  o'er ; 

Come  down,  and  vex  your  tender  heart  no  more  :  790 

Excuse  me,  dear,  if  aught  amiss  was  said. 
For,  on  my  soul,  amends  shall  soon  be  made : 
Let  my  repentance  your  forgiveness  draw, 
By  heav'n,  I  swore  but  what  I  thought  I  saw." 

"Ah  my  lov'd  lord!  't  was  much  unkind  (she  cry'd)  795 

On  bare  suspicion  thus  to  treat  your  bride. 
But  till  your  sight  's  establish'd,  for  a  while, 
Imperfect  objects  may  your  sense  beguile. 
Thus  when  from  sleep  we  first  our  eyes  display, 
The  balls  are  wounded  with  the  piercing  ray,  \   800 

And  dusky  vapours  rise,  and  intercept  the  day 
So  just  recov'ring  from  the  shades  of  night, 
Your  swimming  eyes  are  drunk  with  sudden  light. 
Strange  phantoms  dance  around,  and  skim  before  your  sight :  ^ 

"  Then,  Sir,  be  cautious,  nor  too  rashly  deem ;  805 

Heav'n  knows  how  seldom  things  are  what  they  seem! 
Consult  your  reason,  and  you  soon  shall  find 
'T  was  you  were  jealous,  not  your  wife  unkind : 
Jove  ne'er  spoke  oracle  more  true  than  this, 
None  judge  so  wrong  as  those  who  think  amiss."  810 

With  that  she  leap'd  into  her  Lord's  embrace. 
With  well-dissembled  virtue  in  her  face. 
He  hugg'd  her  close,  and  kiss'd  her  o'er  and  o'er. 
Disturbed  with  doubts  and  jealousies  no  more  :        ^       \Jk^ 
Both,  pleas'd  and  bless'd,  renew'd  their  mutual  vows,C  V  815 

A  fruitful  wife,  and  a  believing  spouse.  ( 

Thus  ends  our  tale,  whose  moral  next  to  make,      ^ 
Let  all  wise  husbands  hence  example  take  ; 
And  pray,  to  crown  the  pleasure  of  their  lives, 
To  be  so  well  deluded  by  their  wives.  820 


146  THE   WIFE  OF  BATH, 

THE   WIFE   OF   BATH. 

FROM  CHAUCER. 

In  1714,  Pope's  Wife  0/  Bath,  with  two  translations  from  the  Odyssey  (th6  arrival 
of  Ulysses  in  Ithaca  and  the  Garden  of  Aicinoiis)  were  published  [by  Tonson]  in  a 
volume  of  miscellanies,  edited  by  Steele.  To  this  miscellany,  Hughes,  the  author 
of  the  Siege  of  Damascus,  &c.,  sent  several  pieces,  but  finding,  before  publication,  that 
Pope's  Wife  of  Bath  and  some  other  pieces,  which  were  inconsistent  with  his  ideas 
of  decency  and  decorum,  had  been  admitted,  he  immediately  withdrew  most  of  his 
own,  and  allowed  only  two  small  poems,  and  those  without  his  name,  to  appear. 
Carruthers.  The  greatest  part  of  the  Wife  of  Bath's  Prologue  must  have  been  of 
Chaucer's  own  invention,  though  one  may  plainly  see  that  he  had  been  reading  the 
popular  invectives  against  marriage,  and  women  in  general ;  such  as  the  Roman  de  la 
Rose,  Valerius  ad  Rufinum  de  non  ducenda  uxore,  and  particularly  Hieronymus  contra 
Jovinianum.  Tyrwhitt.  [The  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale,  to  which  this  is  the  Prologue,  was 
modernised  by  Dryden.  Happily  the  latter  did  not,  like  Pope,  confine  himself  to  the 
reproduction  of  Chaucer's  humorous,  and,  to  modern  taste,  indecorous  pieces.] 

BEHOLD  the  woes  of  matrimonial  life, 
And  hear  with  rev'rence  an  experienced  wife! 
To  dear-bought  wisdom  give  the  credit  due, 
And  think,  for  once,  a  woman  tells  you  true. 
In  all  these  trials  I  have  borne  a  part,  5 

I  was  myself  the  scourge  that  causM  the  smart ; 
For,  since  fifteen,  in  triumph  have  I  led 
Five  captive  husbands  from  the  church  to  bed. 

Christ  saw  a  wedding  once,  the  scripture  says, 
And  saw  but  one,  't  is  thought,  in  all  his  days ;  10 

Whence  some  infer,  whose  conscience  is  too  nice, 
No  pious  Christian  ought  to  marry  twice. 

But  let  them  read,  and  solve  me,  if  they  can. 
The  words  addressed  to  the  Samaritan : 

Five  times  in  lawful  wedlock  was  she  join'd ;  15 

And  sure  the  certain  stint  was  ne'er  defined. 

Increase  and  multiply,  was  heav'n's  command, 
And  that  's  a  text  I  clearly  understand. 
This  too,  '^  Let  men  their  sires  and  mothers  leave, 
And  to  their  dearer  wives  for  ever  cleave."  20 

More  wives  than  one  by  Solomon  were  try'd, 
Or  else  the  wisest  of  mankind  's  belied. 
I  Ve  had  myself  full  many  a  merry  fit ; 
And  trust  in  heav'n  I  may  have  many  yet. 
For  when  my  transitory  spouse,  unkind,  'j  25 

Shall  die,  and  leave  his  woeful  wife  behind,  > 

I  '11  take  the  next  good  Christian  I  can  find.        J 

Paul,  knowing  one  could  never  serve  our  turn, 
Declared  't  was  better  far  to  wed  than  burn. 
There  's  danger  in  assembling  fire  and  tow ;  30 

I  grant  'em  that,  and  what  it  means  you  know. 
The  same  Apostle  too  has  elsewhere  own'd, 


THE  WIFE  OR  BATH.  147 

No  precept  for  Virginity  he  found  : 

'T  is  but  a  counsel  —  and  we  women  still 

Take  which  we  like,  the  counsel,  or  our  will.  35 

I  envy  not  their  bliss,  if  he  or  she 
Think  fit  to  live  in  perfect  chastity ; 
Pure  let  them  be,  and  free  from  taint  of  vice ; 
I,  for  a  few  slight  spots,  am  not  so  nice. 

Heav'n  calls  us  diif 'rent  ways,  on  these  bestows  40 

One  proper  gift,  another  grants  to  those  : 
f»Jot  evVy  man  's  obliged  to  sell  his  store. 
And  give  up  all  his  substance  to  the  poor ; 
Such  as  are  perfect,  may,  I  can't  deny ; 
But,  by  your  leave.  Divines,  so  am  not  1 .  45 

Full  many  a  Saint,  since  first  the  world  began, 
Liv'd  an  unspotted  maid,  in  spite  of  man  : 
Let  such  (a  God's  name)  with  fine  wheat  be  fed, 
And  let  us  honest  wives  eat  barley  bread. 
For  me,  I  '11  keep  the  post  assign'd  by  heav'n,  50 

And  use  the  copious  talent  it  has  giv'n : 
Let  my  good  spouse  pay  tribute,  do  me  right, 
And  keep  an  equal  reck'ning  ev'ry  night : 
His  proper  body  is  not  his,  but  mine ; 
For  so  said  Paul,  and  Paul  's  a  sound  divine.  55 

Know  then,  of  those  five  husbands  I  have  had, 
Three  were  just  tolerable,  two  were  bad. 
The  three  were  old,  but  rich  and  fond  beside, 
And  toil'd  most  piteously  to  please  their  bride : 
But  since  their  wealth  (the  best  they  had)  was  mine,  60 

The  rest,  without  much  loss,  I  could  resign. 
Sure  to  be  lov'd,  I  took  no  pains  to  please, 
Yet  had  more  Pleasure  far  than  they  had  Ease. 

Presents  flow'd  in  apace :  with  show'rs  of  gold, 
They  made  their  court,  like  Jupiter  of  old.  65 

If  I  but  smil'd,  a  sudden  youth  they  found. 
And  a  new  palsy  seiz'd  them  when  I  frown'd. 

Ye  sov'reign  wives !  give  ear  and  understand. 
Thus  shall  ye  speak,  and  exercise  command. 
For  never  was  it  giv'n  to  mortal  man,  70 

To  lie  so  boldly  as  we  women  can : 
Forswear  the  fact,  tho'  seen  with  both  his  eyes. 
And  call  your  maids  to  witness  how  he  lies. 
"  Hark,  old  Sir  Paul !  "  ('t  was  thus  I  us'd  to  say) 
"Whence  is  our  neighbour's  wife  so  rich  and  gay?  "  75 

Treated,  caress'd,  where'er  she  's  pleased  to  roam  — 
I  sit  in  tatters,  and  immur'd  at  home. 
Why  to  her  house  dost  thou  so  oft  repair? 
Art  thou  so  am'rous?  and  is  she  so  fair? 

If  I  but  see  a  cousin  or  a  friend,  80 

Lord!  how  you  swell  and  rage  like  any  fiend! 
But  you  reel  home,  a  drunken  beastly  bear, 


148  THE   WIFE  OF  BATH, 

Then  preach  till  midnight  in  your  easy  chair; 

Cry,  wives  are  false,  and  ev'ry  woman  evil, 

And  give  up  all  that  's  female  to  the  devil.  85 

"If  poor  (you  say)  she  drains  her  husband's  purse 
If  rich,  she  keeps  her  priest,  or  something  worse ; 
If  highly  born,  intolerably  vain. 
Vapours  and  pride  by  turns  possess  her  brain, 
Now  gayly  mad,  now  sourly  splenetic,  90 

Freakish  when  well,  and  fretful  when  she  's  sick. 
If  fair,  then  chaste  she  cannot  long  abide, 
By  pressing  youth  attacked  on  ev'ry  side : 
If  foul,  her  wealth  the  lusty  lover  lures. 

Or  else  her  wit  some  fool-gallant  procures,  95 

Or  else  she  dances  with  becoming  grace. 
Or  shape  excuses  the  defects  of  face. 
There  swims  no  goose  so  grey,  but  soon  or  late, 
She  finds  some  honest  gander  for  her  mate. 

"  Horses  (thou  say'st)  and  asses,  men  may  try,  100 

And  ring  suspected  vessels  ere  they  buy : 
But  wives,  a  random  choice,  untry'd  they  take, 
They  dream  in  courtship,  but  in  wedlock  wake : 
Then,  nor  till  then,  the  veil  's  remov'd  away. 
And  all  the  woman  glares  in  open  day.  105 

"  You  tell  me,  to  preserve  your  wife's  good  grace, 
Your  eyes  must  always  languish  on  my  face. 
Your  tongue  with  constant  flatteries  feed  my  ear,    . 
And  tag  each  sentence  with,  My  life!  my  dear! 
If  by  strange  chance  a  modest  blush  be  rais'd,  i  ic> 

Be  sure  my  fine  complexion  must  be  prais'd. 
My  garments  always  must  be  new  and  gay, 
And  feasts  still  kept  upon  my  wedding-day. 
Then  must  my  nurse  be  pleas'd,  and  fav'rite  maid; 
And  endless  treats,  and  endless  visits  paid,  115 

To  a  long  train  of  kindred,  friends,  allies  ; 
All  this  thou  say'st,  and  all  thou  say'st  are  lies. 

"On  Jenkin  too  you  cast  a  squinting  eye : 
What!  can  your  prentice  raise  your  jealousy? 
Fresh  are  his  ruddy  cheeks,  his  forehead  fair,  120 

And  like  the  burnish'd  gold  his  curling  hair. 
But  clear  thy  wrinkled  brow,  and  quit  thy  sorrow, 
I  'd  scorn  your  prentice,  should  you  die  to-morrow. 

"Why  are  thy  chests  all  lock'd?  on  what  design? 
Are  not  thy  worldly  goods  and  treasure  mine?  125 

Sir,  I  'm  no  fool :  nor  shall  you,  by  St.  John, 
Have  goods  and  body  to  yourself  alone. 
One  you  shall  quit,  in  spite  of  both  your  eyes  — 
I  heed  not,  I,  the  bolts,  the  locks,  the  spies. 
If  you  had  wit,  you  'd  say,  ^  Go  where  you  will,  130 

Dear  spouse,  I  credit  not  the  tales  they  tell : 
Take  all  the  freedoms  of  a  married  life ; 


THE   WIFE  OF  BATH,  149 

I  know  thee  for  a  virtuous,  faithful  wife.' 

"  Lord !  when  you  have  enough,  what  need  you  care 

How  merrily  soever  others  fare  ?  135 

Tho'  all  the  day  I  give  and  take  delight, 

Doubt  not,  sufficient  will  be  left  at  night. 

'T  is  but  a  just  and  rational  desire. 

To  light  a  taper  at  a  neighbour's  fire. 

"  There 's  danger  too,  you  think,  in  rich  array,  140 

And  none  can  long  be  modest  that  are  gay : 

The  Cat,  if  you  but  singe  her  tabby  skin. 

The  chimney  keeps,  and  sits  content  within ; 

But  once  grown  sleek,  will  from  her  corner  run, 

Sport  with  her  tail,  and  wanton  in  the  sun ;  145 

She  licks  her  fair  round  face,  and  frisks  abroad, 

To  show  her  fur,  and  to  be  catterwaw'd." 
Lo  thus,  my  friends,  I  wrought  to  my  desires 

These  three  right  ancient  venerable  sires. 

I  told  'em.  Thus  you  say,  and  thus  you  do,  150 

And  told  'em  false,  but  Jenkin  swore  'twas  true. 

I,  like  a  dog,  could  bite  as  well  as  whine. 

And  first  complain'd,  whene'er  the  guilt  was  mine. 

I  tax'd  them  oft  with  wenching  and  amours. 

When  their  weak  legs  scarce  dragg'd  'em  out  of  doors ;  155 

And  swore  the  rambles  that  I  took  by  night, 

Were  all  to  spy  what  damsels  they  bedight. 

That  colour  brought  me  many  hours  of  mirth ; 

For  all  this  wit  is  giv'n  us  from  our  birth. 

Heav'n  gave  to  woman  the  peculiar  grace  160 

To  spin,  to  weep,  and  cully  human  race. 

By  this  nice  conduct,  and  this  prudent  course. 

By  murm'ring,  wheedling,  stratagem,  and  force, 

I  still  prevail'd,  and  would  be  in  the  right, 

Or  curtain-lectures  made  a  restless  night.  165 

If  once  my  husband's  arm  was  o'er  my  side, 

What!  so  famiHar  with  your  spouse?  I  cry'd: 

I  levied  first  a  tax  upon  his  need ; 

Then  let  him  —  't  was  a  nicety  indeed! 

Let  all  mankind  this  certain  maxim  hold,  170 

Marry  who  will,  our  sex  is  to  be  sold. 

With  empty  hands  no  tassels  ^  you  can  lure, 

But  fulsome  love  for  gain  we  can  endure ; 

For  gold  we  love  the  impotent  and  old. 

And  heave,  and  pant,  and  kiss,  and  cling,  for  gold.  175 

Yet  with  embraces,  curses  oft  I  mixt. 

Then  kiss'd  again,  and  chid  and  rail'd  betwixt. 

Well,  I  may  make  my  will  in  peace,  and  die. 

For  not  one  word  in  man's  arrears  am  L 

To  drop  a  dear  dispute  I  was  unable,  1 80 

1  Tassel y  another  form  of  tiercel;  the  male  hawk.] 


ISO  THE  WIFE  OF  BATH. 

Ev'n  tho'  the  Pope  himself  had  sat  at  table. 

But  when  my  point  was  gainM,  then  thus  I  spoke, 

"Billy,  my  dear,  how  sheepishly  you  look? 

"  Approach,  my  spouse,  and  let  me  kiss  thy  cheek ; 

"Thou  should'st  be  always  thus,  resignM  and  meek!  185 

"Of  Job's  great  patience  since  so  oft  you  preach, 

"  Well  should  you  practise,  who  so  well  can  teach. 

"  'T  is  difficult  to  do,  I  must  allow, 

"  But  I,  my  dearest,  will  instruct  you  how. 

"Great  is  the  blessing  of  a  prudent  wife,  190 

"  Who  puts  a  period  to  domestic  strife. 

"  One  of  us  two  must  rule,  and  one  obey ; 

"  And  since  in  man  right  reason  bears  the  sway, 

"  Let  that  frail  thing,  weak  woman,  have  her  way. 

"  The  wives  of  all  my  family  have  rul'd  195 

"  Their  tender  husbands,  and  their  passions  cool'd. 

"  Fie,  't  is  unmanly  thus  to  sigh  and  groan  ; 

"What!  would  you  have  me  to  yourself  alone  ? 

"  Why  take  me.  Love !  take  all  and  every  part ! 

"  Here  's  your  revenge !  you  love  it  at  your  heart  200 

"  Would  I  vouchsafe  to  sell  what  nature  gave, 

"You  little  think  what  custom  I  could  have. 

"  But  see!  I  'm  all  your  own  —  nay  hold  —  for  shame! 

"  What  means  my  dear — indeed  —  you  are  to  blame." 

Thus  with  my  first  three  Lords  I  past  my  life ;  205 

A  very  woman,  and  a  very  wife. 
What  sums  from  these  old  spouses  I  could  raise, 
ProcurM  young  husbands  in  my  riper  days. 
Tho'  past  my  bloom,  nor  yet  decayed  was  I, 
Wanton  and  wild,  and  chattered  like  a  pye.  210 

In  country  dances  still  I  bore  the  bell, 
And  sung  as  sweet  as  evening  Philomel. 
To  clear  my  quail-pipe,  and  refresh  my  soul, 
Full  oft  I  drained  the  spicy  nut-brown  bowl ; 
Rich  luscious  wines,  that  youthful  blood  improve,  215 

And  warm  the  swelling  veins  to  feats  of  love : 
For  't  is  as  sure,  as  cold  engenders  hail, 
A  liqu'rish  mouth  must  have  a  lechVous  tail  ; 
Wine  lets  no  lover  unrewarded  go, 
As  all  true  gamesters  by  experience  know.  220 

But  oh,  good  Gods!  whene'er  a  thought  I  cast 
On  all  the  joys  of  youth  and  beauty  past. 
To  find  in  pleasures  I  have  had  my  part. 
Still  warms  me  to  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 
This  wicked  world  was  once  my  dear  delight ;  225 

Now  all  my  conquests,  all  my  charms,  good  night! 
The  flour  consum'd,  the  best  that  now  I  can. 
Is  e'en  to  make  my  market  of  the  bran. 

My  fourth  dear  spouse  was  not  exceeding  true ; 
He  kept,  't  was  thought,  a  private  miss  or  two :  230 


THE   WIFE  OF  BATH.  151 

But  all  that  score  I  paid —  as  how?  you  '11  say, 

Not  with  my  body  in  a  filthy  way : 

But  I  so  dressM  and  danc'd,  and  drank,  and  din'd, 

And  viewed  a  friend,  with  eyes  so  very  kind, 

As  stung  his  heart,  and  made  his  marrow  fry,  235 

With  burning  rage  and  frantic  jealousy. 

His  soul,  1  hope,  enjoys  eternal  glory, 

For  here  on  earth  I  was  his  purgatory. 

Oft,  when  his  shoe  the  most  severely  wrung, 

He  put  on  careless  airs,  and  sat  and  sung.  240 

How  sore  I  galPd  him,  only  heav'n  could  know, 

And  he  that  felt,  and  I  that  caus'd  the  woe. 

He  died,  when  last  from  pilgrimage  I  came, 

With  other  gossips,  from  Jerusalem  ; 

And  now  lies  buried  underneath  a  Rood,  245 

Fair  to  be  seen,  and  rear'd  of  honest  wood. 

A  tomb  indeed  with  fewer  sculptures  grac'd, 

Than  that  Mausolus'  pious  widow  placed. 

Or  where  inshrin'd  the  great  Darius  lay  ; 

But  cost  on  graves  is  merely  thrown  away.  250 

The  pit  fiird  up,  with  turf  we  covered  o'er ; 

So  bless  the  good  man's  soul,  I  say  no  more. 

Now  for  my  fifth  lov'd  Lord,  the  last  and  best ; 
(Kind  heav'n  afford  him  everlasting  rest) 

Full  hearty  was  his  love,  and  I  can  shew,  255 

The  tokens  on  my  ribs  in  black  and  blue ; 
Yet,  with  a  knack,  my  heart  he  could  have  won. 
While  yet  the  smart  was  shooting  in  the  bone. 
How  quaint  an  appetite  in  women  reigns ! 

Free  gifts  we  scorn,  and  love  what  costs  us  pains :  260 

Let  men  avoid  us,  and  on  them  we  leap ; 
A  glutted  market  makes  provision  cheap. 

In  pure  good  will  I  took  this  jovial  spark, 
Of  Oxford  he,  a  most  egregious  clerk. 

He  boarded  with  a  widow  in  the  town,  265 

A  trusty  gossip,  one  dame  Alison. 
Full  well  the  secrets  of  my  soul  she  knew. 
Better  than  e'er  our  parish  Priest  could  do. 
To  her  I  told  whatever  could  befall : 

Had  but  my  husband  piss'd  against  a  wall,  270 

Or  done  a  thing  that  might  have  cost  his  life, 
She  —  and  my  niece  —  and  one  more  worthy  wife, 
Had  known  it  all :  what  most  he  would  conceal, 
To  these  I  made  no  scruple  to  reveal. 

Oft  has  he  blush'd  from  ear  to  ear  for  shame,  275 

That  e'er  he  told  a  secret  to  his  dame. 
It  so  befel,  in  holy  time  of  Lent, 
That  oft  a  day  I  to  this  gossip  went ; 
(My  husband,  thank  my  stars,  was  out  of  town) 
From  house  to  house  we  rambled  up  and  down,  280 


152  THE   WIFE  OF  BATH, 

This  clerk,  myself,  and  my  good  neighbour  Alse, 

To  see,  be  seen,  to  tell,  and  gather  tales. 

Visits  to  evVy  Church  we  daily  paid, 

And  march M  in  evVy  holy  Masquerade, 

The  Stations  duly,  and  the  Vigils  kept ;  285 

Not  much  we  fasted,  but  scarce  ever  slept. 

At  Sermons  too  I  shone  in  scarlet  gay,  "^ 

The  wasting  moth  ne'er  spoiPd  my  best  array ;  > 

The  cause  was  this,  I  wore  it  ev'ry  day.  J 

'T  was  when  fresh  May  her  early  blossoms  yields,  290 

This  Clerk  and  I  were  walking  in  the  fields. 
We  grew  so  intimate  I  can't  tell  how, 
I  pawnM  my  honour  and  engaged  my  vow, 
If  e'er  I  laid  my  husband  in  his  urn. 

That  he,  and  only  he,  should  serve  my  turn.  295 

We  straight  struck  hands,  the  bargain  was  agreed ; 
I  still  have  shifts  against  a  time  of  need : 
The  mouse  that  always  trusts  to  one  poor  hole, 
Can  never  be  a  mouse  of  any  soul. 

I  vow'd,  I  scarce  could  sleep  since  first  I  knew  him  300 

And  durst  be  sworn  he  had  bewitched  me  to  him ; 
If  e'er  I  slept,  I  dream'd  of  him  alone, 
And  dreams  foretell,  as  learned  men  have  shown : 
All  this  I  said ;  but  dreams,  sirs,  I  had  none : 
I  follow'd  but  my  crafty  Crony's  lore,  '  305 

Who  bid  me  tell  this  lie  —  and  twenty  more. 

Thus  day  by  day,  and  month  by  month  we  past ; 
It  pleas'd  the  Lord  to  take  my  spouse  at  last. 
I  tore  my  gown,  I  soil'd  my  locks  with  dust. 
And  beat  my  breasts,  as  wretched  widows —  must.  310 

Before  my  face  my  handkerchief  I  spread. 
To  hide  the  flood  of  tears  I  did  not  shed. 
The  good  man's  coffin  to  the  Church  was  borne; 
Around,  the  neighbours,  and  my  clerk  too,  mourn. 
But  as  he  march'd,  good  Gods!  he  shpw'd  a  pair  315 

Of  legs  and  feet,  so  clean,  so  strong,  so  fair! 
Of  twenty  winters  age  he  seem'd  to  be ; 
I  (to  say  truth)  was  twenty  more  than  he ; 
But  vig'rous  still,  a  lively  buxom  dame ; 

And  had  a  wond'rous  gift  to  quench  a  flame.  320 

A  Conj'rer  once,  that  deeply  could  divine, 
Assur'd  me,  Mars  in  Taurus  was  my  sign. 
As  the  stars  order'd,  such  my  life  has  been : 
Alas,  alas,  that  ever  love  was  sin! 

Fair  Venus  gave  me  fire,  and  sprightly  grace,  325 

And  Mars  assurance,  and  a  dauntless  face. 
By  virtue  of  this  pow'rful  constellation, 
I  follow'd  always  my  own  inclination. 

But  to  my  tale  :  A  month  scarce  pass'd  away. 
With  dance  and  song  we  kept  the  nuptial  day.  330 


THE   WIFE  OF  BATH,  153 

All  I  possessed  I  gave  to  his  command, 

My  goods  and  chattels,  money,  house,  and  land : 

But  oft  repented,  and  repent  it  still ; 

He  prov'd  a  rebel  to  my  sovereign  will : 

Nay  once  by  heav'n  he  struck  me  on  the  face ;  335 

Hear  but  the  fact,  and  judge  yourselves  the  case. 

Stubborn  as  any  Lioness  was  I ; 
And  knew  full  well  to  raise  my  voice  on  high ; 
As  true  a  rambler  as  I  was  before, 

And  would  be  so  in  spite  of  all  he  swore.  340 

He  against  this  right  sagely  would  advise, 
And  old  examples  set  before  my  eyes. 
Tell  how  the  Roman  matrons  led  their  life, 
Of  Gracchus'  mother  and  Duilius'  wife  ; 

And  chose  the  sermon,  as  beseem'd  his  wit,  345 

With  some  grave  sentence  out  of  holy  writ. 
Oft  would  he  say,  who  builds  his  house  on  sands, 
Pricks  his  blind  horse  across  the  fallow  lands. 
Or  lets  his  wife  abroad  with  pilgrims  roam. 
Deserves  a  fooPs-cap  and  long  ears  at  home.  350 

All  this  avaiPd  not ;  for  whoe'er  he  be 
That  tells  my  faults,  I  hate  him  mortally : 
And  so  do  numbers  more,  I  '11  boldly  say, 
Men,  women,  clergy,  regular,  and  lay. 

My  spouse,  (who  was,  you  know,  to  learning  bred)  355 

A  certain  treatise  oft  at  ev'ning  read. 
Where  divers  Authors  (whom  the  dev'l  confound 
For  all  their  lies)  were  in  one  volume  bound. 
Valerius,  whole  ;  and  of  St.  Jerome,  part ; 
Chrysippus  and  Tertullian,  Ovid's  Art,  360 

Solomon's  proverbs,  Eloisa's  loves  ; 
And  many  more  than  sure  the  Church  approves. 
More  legends  were  there  here  of  wicked  wives, 
Than  good  in  all  the  Bible  and  Saints-lives. 
Who  drew  the  Lion  vanquish'd?  'T  was  a  Man.  365 

But  could  we  women  write  as  scholars  can. 
Men  should  stand  mark'd  with  far  more  wickedness, 
Than  all  the  sons  of  Adam  could  redress. 
Love  seldom  haunts  the  breast  where  Learning  lies. 
And  Venus  sets  ere  Mercury  can  rise.  370 

Those  play  the  scholars  who  can't  play  the  men. 
And  use  that  weapon  which  they  have,  their  pen ; 
When  old,  and  past  the  relish  of  delight. 
Then  down  they  sit,  and  in  their  dotage  write. 
That  not  one  woman  keeps  her  marriage-vow.  375 

(This  by  the  way,  but  to  my  purpose  now. ) 

It  chanc'd  my  husband,  on  a  winter's  night, 
Read  in  this  book,  aloud,  with  strange  delight. 
How  the  first  female  (as  the  Scriptures  show) 
Brought  her  own  spouse  and  all  his  race  to  woe.  380 


154  THE   WIFE  OF  BATH. 

How  Samson  fell ;  and  he  whom  Dejanire 

WrappM  in  th'  envenomed  shirt,  and  set  on  fire. 

How  curs'd  Eryphile  her  lord  betrayed, 

And  the  dire  ambush  Clytaemnestra  laid. 

But  what  most  pleas'd  him  was  the  Cretan  dame,  385 

And  husband-bull  —  oh  monstrous!  fie  for  shame! 

He  had  by  heart,  the  whole  detail  of  woe 
Xanthippe  made  her  good  man  undergo ; 
How  oft  she  scolded  in  a  day,  he  knew, 

How  many  piss-pots  on  the  sage  she  threw ;  390 

Who  took  it  patiently,  and  wip'd  his  head ; 
"  Rain  follows  thunder,"  that  was  all  he  said. 

He  read,  how  Arius  to  his  friend  complain'd, 
A  fatal  Tree  was  growing  in  his  land. 

On  which  three  wives  successively  had  twinM  395 

A  sliding  noose,  and  waver'd  in  the  wind. 
*^  Where  grows  this  plant"  (reply'd  the  friend)  "oh  where? 
For  better  fruit  did  never  orchard  bear. 
Give  me  some  slip  of  this  most  blissful  tree, 
And  in  my  garden  planted  shall  it  be.''  400 

Then  how  two  wives  their  lord's  destruction  prove 
Thro'  hatred  one,  and  one  thro'  too  much  love ; 
That  for  her  husband  mix'd  a  pois'nous  draught, 
And  this  for  lust  an  am'rous  philtre  bought : 
The  nimble  juice  soon  seiz'd  his  giddy  head,  405 

Frantic  at  night,  and  in  the  morning  dead. 

How  some  with  swords  their  sleeping  lords  have  slain, 
And  some  have  hammer'd  nails  into  their  brain, 
And  some  have  drench'd  them  with  a  deadly  potion ; 
All  this  he  read,  and  read  with  great  devotion.  410 

Long  time  I  heard,  and  swell'd  and  blush'd,  and  frown'd 
But  when  no  end  of  these  vile  tales  I  found. 
When  still  he  read,  and  laugh'd,  and  read  again, 
And  half  the  night  was  thus  consum'd  in  vain ; 
Provok'd  to  vengeance,  three  large  leaves  I  tore  415 

And  with  one  buffet  fell'd  him  on  the  floor. 
With  that  my  husband  in  a  fury  rose. 
And  down  he  settled  me  with  hearty  blows. 
I  groan'd,  and  lay  extended  on  my  side ; 

"  Oh !  thou  hast  slain  me  for  my  wealth  "  (I  cry'd)  420 

"  Yet  I  forgive  thee  —  take  my  last  embrace  —  " 
He  wept,  kind  soul !  and  stoop'd  to  kiss  my  face ; 
'  I  took  him  such  a  box  as  turn'd  him  blue. 
Then  sigh'd  and  cry'd,  '^ Adieu,  my  dear,  adieu!" 

But  after  many  a  hearty  struggle  past,  425 

I  condescended  to  be  pleas'd  at  last. 
Soon  as  he  said,  "  My  mistress  and  my  wife, 
Do  what  you  list,  the  term  of  all  your  life  : " 
I  took  to  heart  the  merits  of  the  cause, 
And  stood  content  to  rule  by  wholesome  laws ;  430 


THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  I.  155 

Received  the  reins  of  absolute  command, 

With  all  the  government  of  house  and  land, 

And  empire  o'er  his  tongue,  and  o'er  his  hand. 

As  for  the  volume  that  revil'd  the  dames, 

'T  was  torn  to  fragments,  and  condemned  to  flames.  435 

Now  heav'n  on  all  my  husbands  gone  bestow 
Pleasures  above,  for  tortures  felt  below : 
The  rest  they  wish'd  for,  grant  them  in  the  grave, 
And  bless  those  souls  my  conduct  help'd  to  save. 

THE  FIRST   BOOK 

OF 

STATIUS   HIS   THEBAIS. 

[Translated  in  the  Year  1703.] 

[The  First  Book  of  the  Thebais  of  Statius  was  published  in  1712,  in  Lintofs  Mis- 
cellany. Pope  had  tried  his  hand  at  translating  part  of  Statius  before  he  was  twelve 
years  of  age;  and  his  efforts  were  revised  by  his  early  friend  Henry  Cromwell,  so 
mysteriously  described  by  Gay  in  Alexander  Pope  his  safe  return  from  Troy  as  '  honest 
hatless  Cromwell,  with  red  breeches.'  —  P.  Papinius  Statius,  born  at  Naples  about 
50  A.D.,  was  the  most  popular  poet  of  the  Flavian  epoch,  and  besides  his  epics,  the 
Thebais  (in  12  books)  and  the  Achilleis  (in  2) ,  wrote  the  Sylvce  (5  books  of  occasional 
pieces).  Of  his  Thebais,  said  to  have  been  founded  on  the  Greek  poem  by  Antimachus, 
a  criticism  will  be  found  in  Merivale's  Romans  under  the  Empire,  chap.  LXIV.,  where 
it  is  designated  as  perhaps  the  most  perfect  in  form  and  arrangement  of  ancient  epics, 
but  confused  in  its  general  effect  from  want  of  breadth  and  largeness  of  treatment.] 

ARGUMENT. 

CEdipus  King  of  Thebes  having  by  mistake  slain  his  father  Laius,  and  marry'd  his 
mother  Jocasta,  put  out  his  own  eyes,  and  resign'd  the  realm  to  his  sons  Eteocles  and 
Polynices.  Being  neglected  by  them,  he  makes  his  prayer  to  the  fury  Tisiphone,  to  sow 
debate  betwixt  the  brothers.  They  agree  at  last  to  reign  singly,  each  a  year  by  turns, 
and  the  first  lot  is  obtain'd  by  Eteocles.  Jupiter,  in  a  council  of  the  Gods,  declares  his 
resolution  of  punishing  the  Thebans,  and  Argives  also  by  means  of  a  marriage  betwixt 
Polynices  and  one  of  the  daughters  of  Adrastus  King  of  Argos.  Juno  opposes,  but  to 
no  effect ;  and  Mercury  is  sent  on  a  message  to  the  shades,  to  the  ghost  of  Laius,  who 
is  to  appear  to  Eteocles,  and  provoke  him  to  break  the  agreement.  Polynices  in  the 
mean  time  departs  from  Thebes  by  night,  is  overtaken  by  a  storm,  and  arrives  at  Argos ; 
where  he  meets  with  Tydeus,  who  had  fled  from  Calydon,  having  kill'd  his  brother. 
Adrastus  entertains  them,  having  receiv'd  an  oracle  from  Apollo  that  his  daughter 
should  be  marry'd  to  a  Boar  and  a  Lion,  which  he  understands  to  be  meant  of  these 
strangers  by  whom  the  hides  of  these  beasts  were  worn,  and  who  arriv'd  at  the  time 
when  he  kept  an  annual  feast  in  honour  of  that  God.  The  rise  of  this  solemnity  he 
relates  to  his  guests,  the  loves  of  Phcebus  and  Psamathe,  and  the  story  of  Choroebus. 
He  enquires,  and  is  made  acquainted  with  that  descent  and  quality :  The  sacrifice  is 
renew'd,  and  the  book  concludes  with  a  Hymn  to  Apollo. 

The  Translator  hopes  he  needs  not  apologize  for  l^is  Choice  of  this  piece,  which  was 
made  almost  in  his  Childhood.  But  finding  the  Version  better  than  he  expected,  he 
gave  it  some  Correction  a  few  years  afterwards.    P. 


156  THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,  BOOK  I. 

FRATERNAL  Rage  the  guilty  Thebes  alarms, 
Th^  alternate  reign  destroyed  by  impious  arms 
Demand  our  song ;  a  sacred  fury  fires 
My  ravishM  breast,  and  all  the  Muse  inspires. 
O  goddess !  say,  shall  I  deduce  my  rhymes  5 

From  the  dire  nation  in  its  early  times, 
Europa's  rape,  Agenor^s  stern  decree, 
And  Cadmus  searching  round  the  spacious  sea? 
How  with  the  serpent's  teeth  he  sow'd  the  soil, 
And  reap'd  an  iron  harvest  of  his  toil ;  10 

Or  how  from  joining  stones  the  city  sprung, 
While  to  his  harp  divine  Amphion  sung? 
Or  shall  I  Juno's  hate  to  Thebes  resound. 
Whose  fatal  rage  th'  unhappy  Monarch  found? 
The  sire  against  the  son  his  arrows  drew,  15 

O'er  the  wide  fields  the  furious  mother  flew, 
And  while  her  arms  a  second  hope  contain, 
Sprung  from  the  rocks,  and  plung'd  into  the  main. 

But  waive  whatever  to  Cadmus  may  belong. 
And  fix,  O  Muse!  the  barrier  of  thy  song  20 

At  GEdipus  —  from  his  disasters  trace 
The  long  confusions  of  his  guilty  race  : 
Nor  yet  attempt  to  stretch  thy  bolder  wing, 
And  mighty  Caesar's  ^  conquering  eagles  sing ; 
How  twice  he  tam'd  proud  Ister's  rapid  flood,  25 

While  Dacian  mountains  stream'd  with  barbarous  blood; 
Twice  taught  the  Rhine  beneath  his  laws  to  roll. 
And  stretch'd  his  empire  to  the  frozen  pole ; 
Oh,  long  before,  with  early  valour  strove 

In  youthful  arms  t'  assert  the  cause  of  Jove.  30 

And  thou,  great  heir  of  all  thy  father's  fame, 
Increase  of  glory  to  the  Latian  name! 
Oh  bless  thy  Rome  with  an  eternal  reign. 
Nor  let  desiring  worlds  entreat  in  vain. 

What  tho'  the  stars  contract  their  heav'nly  space,  35 

And  crowd  their  shining  ranks  to  yield  thee  place; 
Though  all  the  skies,  ambitious  of  thy  sway, 
Conspire  to  court  thee  from  our  world  away ; 
Tho'  Phoebus  longs  to  mix  his  rays  with  thine. 
And  in  thy  glories  more  serenely  shine ;  40 

Tho'  Jove  himself  no  less  content  would  be 
To  part  his  throne,  and  share  his  heav'n  with  thee  5 
Yet  stay,  great  Caesar!  and  vouchsafe  to  reign 
O'er  the  wide  earth,  and  o'er  the  wat'ry  main ; 
Resign  to  Jove  his  empire  of  the  skies,  45 

And  people  heav'n  with  Roman  deities. 

The  time  will  come  when  a  diviner  flame  2 

1  [The  Emperor  Domitian  seems  to  have  ^  [^As  to  the  ascription  of  the  divine  character 
assumed  the  title  of  Dacicus  in  virtue  of  vie-  to  Domitian,  insinuated  by  both  Statius  and 
tories  in  which  he  had  no  personal  share.]  Martial,  see  Merivale,  u.s,  chapter  lxii.     He 


THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  I.  157 

Shall  warm  my  breast  to  sing  of  Caesar's  fame :  ^ 

Meanwhile  permit  that  my  precluding  Muse 

In  Theban  wars  an  humbler  theme  may  choose :  50 

Of  furious  hate  surviving  death  she  sings, 

A  fatal  throne  to  two  contending  kings, 

And  fun'ral  flames  that,  parting  wide  in  air. 

Express  the  discord  of  the  souls  they  bear : 

Of  towns  dispeopled,  and  the  wand'ring  ghosts  55 

Of  kings  unburied  in  the  wasted  coasts  : 

When  Dirce's  fountain  blush'd  with  Grecian  blood, 

And  Thetis,  near  Ismenos'  swelUng  flood. 

With  dread  beheld  the  rolling  surges  sweep 

In  heaps  his  slaughtered  sons  into  the  deep.  60 

What  Hero,  Cho!  wilt  thou  first  relate? 
The  rage  of  Tydeus,  or  the  Prophet's  ^  fate? 
Or  how,  with  hills  of  slain  on  every  side, 
Hippomedon  repell'd  the  hostile  tide? 

Or  how  the  youth,  with  ev'ry  grace  adorn'd,^  65 

Untimely  fell,  to  be  for  ever  mourn'd  ? 
Then  to  fierce  Capaneus  thy  verse  extend, 
And  sing  with  horror  his  prodigious  end. 

Now  wretched  CEdipus,  deprived  of  sight, 
Led  a  long  death  in  everlasting  night ;  70 

But  while  he  dwells  where  not  a  cheerful  ray 
Can  pierce  the  darkness,  and  abhors  the  day ; 
The  clear  reflecting  mind  presents  his  sin 
In  frightful  views,  and  makes  it  day  within ; 
Returning  thoughts  in  endless  circles  roll,  75 

And  thousand  furies  haunt  his  guilty  soul : 
The  wretch  then  lifted  to  th'  unpitying  skies 
Those  empty  orbs  from  whence  he  tore  his  eyes, 
Whose  wounds,  yet  fresh,  with  bloody  hands  he  strook, 
While  from  his  breast  these  dreadful  accents  broke.  80 

"  Ye  gods!  that  o'er  the  gloomy  regions  reign. 
Where  guilty  spirits  feel  eternal  pain ; 
Thou,  sable  Styx!  whose  livid  streams  are  roll'd 
Through  dreary  coasts,  which  I  tho'  blind  behold ; 
Tisiphone!  that  oft  has  heard  my  prayer,  85 

Assist,  if  CEdipus  deserve  thy  care. 
If  you  receive  me  from  Jocasta's  womb. 
And  nurs'd  the  hope  of  mischiefs  yet  to  come ; 
If,  leaving  Polybus,  I  took  my  way 

To  Cirrha's  temple,  on  that  fatal  day  90 

When  by  the  son  the  trembling  father  died. 
Where  the  three  roads  the  Phocian  fields  divide ; 
If  I  the  Sphinx's  riddles  durst  explain, 
Taught  by  thyself  to  win  the  promis'd  reign  ; 

was  actually  addressed  in  a  public  document  as         *  [This  pious    intention   Statius   appears   to 
dominus  et  deus,  and  victims  were  slaughtered    have  left  unfulfilled.]        ^  [Amphiaraus.] 
before  his  statues.]  ^  Or  how  the  Youth^    Parthenopaeus.    P. 


158  THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  /. 

If  wretched  I,  by  baleful  Furies  led,  93 

With  monstrous  mixture  stainM  my  mother's  bed ; 

For  hell  and  thee  begot  an  impious  brood, 

And  with  full  lust  those  horrid  joys  renew'd ; 

Then,  self-condemn'd,  to  shades  of  endless  night, 

ForcM  from  these  orbs  the  bleeding  balls  of  sight;  100 

Oh  hear!  and  aid  the  vengeance  I  require, 

If  worthy  thee,  and  what  thou  might'st  inspire. 

My  sons  their  old,  unhappy  sire  despise, 

Spoird  of  his  kingdom,  and  deprivM  of  eyes  ; 

Guideless  I  wander,  unregarded  mourn,  105 

While  these  exalt  their  sceptres  o^er  my  urn  ; 

These  sons,  ye  Gods !  who  with  flagitious  pride 

Insult  my  darkness  and  my  groans  deride. 

Art  thou  a  father,  unregarding  Jove! 

And  sleeps  thy  thunder  in  the  realms  above?  no 

Thou  fury!  then  some  lasting  curse  entail, 

Which  o'er  their  children's  children  shall  prevail ; 

Place  on  their  heads  that  crown  distain'd  ^  with  gore, 

Which  these  dire  hands  from  my  slain  father  tore ; 

Go!  and  a  parent's  heavy  curses  bear ;  115 

Break  all  the  bonds  of  nature,  and  prepare 

Their  kindred  souls  to  mutual  hate  and  war. 

Give  them  to  dare,  what  I  might  wish  to  see, 

Blind  as  I  am,  some  glorious  villany! 

Soon  shalt  thou  find,  if  thou  but  arm  their  hands,  120 

Their  ready  guilt  preventing  thy  commands  : 

Couldst  thou  some  great  proportion'd  mischief  frame. 

They  'd  prove  the  father  from  whose  loins  they  came." 

The  Fury  heard,  while  on  Cocytus'  brink 
Her  snakes,  untied,  sulphureous  waters  drink  ;  125 

But  at  the  summons  roll'd  her  eyes  around, 
And  snatch'd  the  starting  serpents  from  the  ground. 
Not  half  so  swiftly  shoots  along  in  air. 
The  gliding  lightning,  or  descending  star. 
Thro'  crowds  of  airy  shades  she  wing'd  her  flight,  130 

And  dark  dominions  of  the  silent  night ; 
Swift  as  she  pass'd,  the  flitting  ghosts  withdrew. 
And  the  pale  spectres  trembled  at  her  view : 
To  th'  iron  gates  of  Taenarus  she  flies. 

There  spreads  her  dusky  pinions  to  the  skies,  135 

The  day  beheld,  and  sick'ning  at  the  sight, 
Veil'd  her  fair  glories  in  the  shades  of  night. 
Afl'righted  Atlas,  on  the  distant  shore. 
Trembled,  and  shook  the  heav'ns  and  gods  he  bore. 
Now  from  beneath  Malea's  airy  height  140 

Aloft  she  sprung,  and  steer'd  to  Thebes  her  flight ; 
With  eager  speed  the  well-known  journey  took, 

*  [Distatn'd,  i.e.  stain'd.] 


THEBATS   OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  /.  159 

Nor  here  regrets  the  hell  she  late  forsook. 

A  hundred  snakes  her  gloomy  visage  shade, 

A  hundred  serpents  guard  her  horrid  head,  145 

In  her  sunk  eye-balls  dreadful  meteors  glow : 

Such  rays  from  Phoebe's  bloody  circle  flow, 

When  laboring  with  strong  charms,  she  shoots  from  high 

A  fiery  gleam,  and  reddens  all  the  sky. 

Blood  stain'd  her  cheeks,  and  from  her  mouth  there  came    150 

Blue  steaming  poisons,  and  a  length  of  flame. 

From  ev'ry  blast  of  her  contagious  breath, 

Famine  and  drought  proceed,  and  plagues,  and  death. 

A  robe  obscene  was  o  'er  her  shoulders  thrown, 

A  dress  by  Fates  and  Furies  worn  alone.  155 

She  toss'd  her  meagre  arms ;  her  better  hand  ^ 

In  waving  circles  whirPd  a  fun'ral  brand : 

A  serpent  from  her  left  was  seen  to  rear 

His  flaming  crest,  and  lash  the  yielding  air. 

But  when  the  Fury  took  her  stand  on  high,  160 

Where  vast  Cithaeron's  top  salutes  the  sky, 
A  hiss  from  all  the  snaky  tire  went  round : 
The  dreadful  signal  all  the  rocks  rebound. 
And  thro'  the  Achaian  cities  send  the  sound. 
Oete,  with  high  Parnassus,  heard  the  voice  ;  165 

Eurotas'  banks  remurmur'd  to  the  noise  ; 
Again  Leucothoe  shook  at  these  alarms, 
And  press'd  Palaemon  closer  in  her  arms. 
Headlong  from  thence  the  glowing  Fury  springs. 
And  o'er  the  Theban  palace  spreads  her  wings,  170 

Once  more  invades  the  guilty  dome,  and  shrouds 
Its  bright  pavilions  in  a  veil  of  clouds. 
Straight  with  the  rage  of  all  their  race  possess'd,         \ 
Stung  to  the  soul,  the  brothers  start  from  rest,  \ 

And  all  their  Furies  wake  within  their  breast.  J  175 

Their  tortur'd  minds  repining  Envy  tears. 
And  Hate,  engender'd  by  suspicious  fears ; 
And  sacred  Thirst  of  sway ;  and  all  the  ties 
Of  Nature  broke  ;  and  royal  Perjuries  ; 

And  impotent  Desire  to  reign  alone,  180 

That  scorns  the  dull  reversion  of  a  throne ; 
Each  would  the  sweets  of  sov'reign  rule  devour, 
While  Discord  waits  upon  divided  pow'r. 

As  stubborn  steers  by  brawny  ploughmen  broke, 
And  join'd  reluctant  to  the  galling  yoke,  185 

Alike  disdain  with  servile  necks  to  bear 
Th'  unwonted  weight,  or  drag  the  crooked  share. 
But  rend  the  reins,  and  bound  a  diff"'rent  way. 
And  all  the  furrows  in  confusion  lay : 
Such  was  the  discord  of  the  royal  pair,  190 

*  [i.e.  her  right  hand  —  But  Statius  merely  has  hcec  .  .  .  hcec  manus.} 


i6o  THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,  BOOK  /. 

Whom  fury  drove  precipitate  to  war. 

In  vain  the  chiefs  contriv'd  a  specious  way, 

To  govern  Thebes  by  their  alternate  sway : 

Unjust  decree!  while  this  enjoys  the  state, 

That  mourns  in  exile  his  unequal  fate,  jqc 

And  the  short  monarch  of  a  hasty  year 

Foresees  with  anguish  his  returning  heir. 

Thus  did  the  league  their  impious  arms  restrain, 

But  scarce  subsisted  to  the  second  reign. 

Yet  then,  no  proud  aspiring  piles  were  rais'd,  200 

No  fretted  roofs  with  poiish'd  metals  blaz'd ; 
No  labourM  columns  in  long  order  plac'd, 
No  Grecian  stone  the  pompous  arches  grac'd ; 
No  nightly  bands  in  glitt'ring  armour  wait 
Before  the  sleepless  Tyrant's  guarded  gate ;  205 

No  chargers  then  were  wrought  in  burnish'd  gold, 
Nor  silver  vases  took  the  forming  mould ; 
Nor  gems  on  bowls  emboss'd  were  seen  to  shine, 
Blaze  on  the  brims,  and  sparkle  in  the  wine  — 
Say,  wretched  rivals!  what  provokes  your  rage?  210 

Say,  to  what  end  your  impious  arms  engage  ? 
Not  all  bright  Phoebus  views  in  early  morn, 
Or  when  his  evening  beams  the  west  adorn, 
When  the  south  glows  with  his  meridian  ray, 
And  the  cold  north  receives  a  fainter  day  ;  215 

For  crimes  like  these,  not  all  those  realms  suffice, 
Were  all  those  realms  the  guilty  victor's  prize ! 

But  fortune  now  (the  lots  of  empire  thrown) 
Decrees  to  proud  Eteocles  the  crown : 

What  joys,  oh  Tyrant!  swell'd  thy  soul  that  day,  220 

When  all  were  slaves  thou  could'st  around  survey, 
Pleas'd  to  behold  unbounded  powV  thy  own. 
And  singly  fill  a  fear'd  and  envy'd  throne ! 

But  the  vile  Vulgar,  ever  discontent. 
Their  growing  fears  in  secret  murmurs  vent ;  225 

Still  prone  to  change,  tho'  still  the  slaves  of  state, 
And  sure  the  monarch  whom  they  have,  to  hate ; 
New  lords  they  madly  make,  then  tamely  bear, 
And  softly  curse  the  Tyrants  whom  they  fear. 
And  one  of  those  who  groan  beneath  the  sway  230 

Of  Kings  impos'd  and  grudgingly  obey, 
(Whom  envy  to  the  great,  and  vulgar  spite 
With  scandal  arm'd,  th'  ignoble  mind's  delight,) 
Exclaim'd  —  "O  Thebes!  for  these  what  fates  remain. 
What  woes  attend  this  inauspicious  reign?  235 

Must  we,  alas !  our  doubtful  necks  prepare,  \ 

Each  haughty  master's  yoke  by  turns  to  bear,  \ 

And  still  to  change  whom  chang'd  we  still  must  fear?     J 
These  now  control  a  wretched  people's  fate, 
These  can  divide,  and  these  reverse  the  state :  240 


THEBAIS  OF  STATTUS,   BOOK  /.  i6i 

Ev'n  Fortune  rules  no  more  :  —  O  servile  land, 

Where  exiPd  tyrants  still  by  turns  command! 

Thou  sire  of  Gods  and  men,  imperial  Jove! 

Is  this  th'  eternal  doom  decreed  above  ? 

On  thy  own  offspring  hast  thou  fixM  this  fate,  245 

From  the  first  birth  of  our  unhappy  state ; 

When  banish'd  Cadmus,  wandering  o^er  the  main, 

For  lost  Europa  searchM  the  world  in  vain, 

And  fated  in  Boeotian  fields  to  found 

A  rising  empire  on  a  foreign  ground,  250 

First  rais'd  our  walls  on  that  ill-omen'd  plain, 

Where  earth-born  brothers  were  by  brothers  slain? 

What  lofty  looks  th'  unrivalPd  monarch  bears! 

How  all  the  tyrant  in  his  face  appears ! 

What  sullen  fury  clouds  his  scornful  brow!  255 

Gods!  how  his  eyes  with  threatening  ardour  glow! 

Can  this  imperious  lord  forget  to  reign, 

Quit  all  his  state,  descend,  and  serve  again? 

Yet,  who,  before,  more  popularly  bowM, 

Who  more  propitious  to  the  suppliant  crowd?  260 

Patient  of  right,  familiar  in  the  throne? 

What  wonder  then?  he  was  not  then  alone. 

Oh  wretched  we,  a  vile,  submissive  train, 

Fortune's  tame  fools,  and  slaves  in  evVy  reign! 

As  when  two  winds  with  rival  force  contend,  265 

This  way  and  that,  the  wav'ring  sails  they  bend. 
While  freezing  Boreas,  and  black  Eurus  blow, 
Now  here^  now  there,  the  reeling  vessel  throw : 
Thus  on  each  side,  alas !  our  totfring  state 
Feels  all  the  fury  of  resistless  fate,  270 

And  doubtful  still,  and  still  distracted  stands, 
While  that  Prince  threatens,  and  while  this  commands. 

And  now  th'  almighty  Father  of  the  Gods 
Convenes  a  council  in  the  blest  abodes : 

Far  in  the  bright  recesses  of  the  skies,  275 

High  o'er  the  rolling  heav'ns,  a  mansion  lies, 
Whence,  far  below,  the  Gods  at  once  survey 
The  realms  of  rising  and  declining  day. 
And  all  th'  extended  space  of  earth,  and  air,  and  sea. 
Full  in  the  midst,  and  on  the  starry  Throne,  280 

The  Majesty  of  heav'n  superior  shone  ; 
Serene  he  look'd,  and  gave  an  awful  nod. 
And  all  the  trembling  spheres  confessed  the  God. 
At  Jove's  assent,  the  deities  around 

In  solemn  state  the  consistory  crown'd.  285 

Next  a  long  order  of  inferior  pow'rs 
Ascend  from  hills,  and  plains,  and  shady  bow'rs 
Those  from  whose  urns  the  rolling  rivers  flow, 
And  those  that  give  the  wandVing  winds  to  blow : 
Here  all  their  rage,  and  ev'n  their  murmurs  cease,  290 


i62  THEBATS  OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  L 

And  sacred  silence  reigns,  and  universal  peace. 

A  shining  synod  of  majestic  Gods 

Gilds  with  new  lustre  the  divine  abodes  ; 

Heav'n  seems  improved  with  a  superior  ray, 

And  the  bright  arch  reflects  a  double  day.  295 

The  Monarch  then  his  solemn  silence  broke, 

The  still  creation  listenVl  while  he  spoke, 

Each  sacred  accent  bears  eternal  weight. 

And  each  irrevocable  word  is  Fate. 

"How  long  shall  man  the  wrath  of  heaven  defy,  300 

And  force  unwilling  vengeance  from  the  sky! 
Oh  race  confederate  into  crimes,  that  prove 
Triumphant  o'er  th'  eluded  rage  of  Jove! 
This  weary'd  arm  can  scarce  the  bolt  sustain, 
And  unregarded  thunder  rolls  in  vain :  .305 

Th'  overlaboured  Cyclop  from  his  task  retires ; 
Th'  ^olian  forge  exhausted  of  its  fires. 
For  this,  I  suifer'd  Phoebus'  steeds  to  stray, 
And  the  mad  ruler  to  misguide  the  day. 
When  the  wide  earth  to  heaps  of  ashes  turn'd  310 

And  heav'n  itself  the  wand'ring  chariot  burn'd. 
For  this,  my  brother  of  the  watVy  reign 
Released  th'  impetuous  sluices  of  the  main  : 
But  flames  consumed,  and  billows  rag'd  in  vain. 
Two  races  now,  ally'd  to  Jove,  offend;  '        315 

To  punish  these,  see  Jove  himself  descend. 
The  Theban  Kings  their  line  from  Cadmus  trace. 
From  godlike  Perseus  those  of  Argive  race. 
Unhappy  Cadmus'  fate  who  does  not  know? 
And  the  long  series  of  succeeding  woe  :  320 

How  oft  the  Furies,  from  the  deeps  of  night. 
Arose,  and  mix'd  with  men  in  mortal  fight : 
Th'  exulting  mother,  stain'd  with  filial  blood ; 
The  savage  hunter  and  the  haunted  wood : 
The  direful  banquet  why  should  I  proclaim,  325 

And  crimes  that  grieve  the  trembling  Gods  to  name  ? 
Ere  I  recount  the  sins  of  these  profane, 
The  sun  would  sink  into  the  western  main, 
And  rising  gild  the  radiant  east  again. 
Have  we  not  seen  (the  blood  of  Laius  shed)  '         330 

The  murd'ring  son  ascend  his  parent's  bed. 
Thro'  violated  nature  force  his  way, 
And  stain  the  sacred  womb  where  once  he  lay? 
Yet  now  in  darkness  and  despair  he  groans, 
And  for  the  crimes  of  guilty  fate  atones  ;  335 

His  sons  with  scorn  their  eyeless  father  view. 
Insult  his  wounds,  and  make  them  bleed  anew. 
Thy  curse,  oh  (Edipus,  just  heav'n  alarms. 
And  sets  th'  avenging  thunderer  in  arms. 
I  from  the  root  thy  guilty  race  will  tear,  340 


THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  I.  163 

And  give  the  nations  to  the  waste  of  war. 
Adrastus  soon,  with  Gods  averse,  shall  join, 
In  dire  alliance  with  the  Theban  line ; 
Hence  strife  shall  rise,  and  mortal  war  succeed ; 
The  guilty  realms  of  Tantalus  shall  bleed  ;  345 

Fix'd  is  their  doom  ;  this  all-remembVing  breast 
Yet  harbours  vengeance  for  the  tyrant's  feast." 
He  said  ;  and  thus  the  Queen  of  heav'n  returned ; 
(With  sudden  Grief  her  laboring  bosom  burn'd)  ; 
"  Must  I,  whose  cares  Phoroneus'  tow'rs  defend,  350 

Must  I,  oh  Jove,  in  bloody  wars  contend? 
Thou  know'st  those  regions  my  protection  claim, 
Glorious  in  arms,  in  riches,  and  in  fame : 
Tho'  there  the  fair  Egyptian  heifer  fed, 
And  there  deluded  Argus  slept,  and  bled ;  355 

Tho'  there  the  brazen  towV  was  storm'd  of  old, 
When  Jove  descended  in  almighty  gold, 
Yet  I  can  pardon  those  obscurer  rapes, 
Those  bashful  crimes  disguised  in  borrowed  shapes ; 
But  Thebes,  where  shining  in  celestial  charms  360 

Thou  cam'st  triumphant  to  a  mortal's  arms, 
When  all  my  glories  o'er  her  limbs  were  spread, 
And  blazing  light'nings  danc'd  around  her  bed ; 
Curs'd  Thebes  the  vengeance  it  deserves,  may  prove 
Ah  why  should  Argos  feel  the  rage  of  Jove?  365 

Yet  since  thou  wilt  thy  sister-queen  control, 
Since  still  the  lust  of  discord  fires  thy  soul. 
Go,  rase  my  Samos,  let  Mycenae  fall. 
And  level  with  the  dust  the  Spartan  wall ; 
No  more  let  mortals  Juno's  pow'r  invoke,  \  370 

Her  fanes  no  more  with  eastern  incense  smoke,    > 
Nor  victims  sink  beneath  the  sacred  stroke ;         J 
But  to  your  Isis  all  my  rites  transfer, 
Let  altars  blaze  and  temples  smoke  for  her ; 
For  her,  thro'  Egypt's  fruitful  clime  renown'd,  375 

Let  weeping  Nilus  hear  the  timbrel  sound. 
But  if  thou  must  reform  the  stubborn  times, 
•  Avenging  on  the  sons  the  fathers'  ^  crimes. 
And  from  the  long  records  of  distant  age 
Derive  incitements  to  renew  thy  rage;  380 

Say,  from  what  period  then  has  Jove  design'd 
To  date  his  vengeance,  to  what  bounds  confin'd? 
Begin  from  thence,  where  first  Alpheus  hides       ^ 
His  wand'ring  stream,  and  thro'  the  briny  tides    > 
Unmix'd  to  his  Sicilian  river  glides.  J  385 

Thy  own  Arcadians  there  the  thunder  claim, 
Whose  impious  rites  disgrace  thy  mighty  name ; 
Who  raise  thy  temples  where  the  chariot  stood 

*  Not  *  father's/  as  in  Warburton  and  subsequent  editions;  *  auctorura  crimina'  in  the  original.  1 


i64  THEBAIS   OF  STATIUS,  BOOK  /. 

Of  fierce  Oenomaius,  defil'd  with  blood  ; 

Where  once  his  steeds  their  savage  banquet  found,  390 

And  human  bones  yet  whiten  all  the  ground. 

Say,  can  those  honours  please :  and  can'st  thou  love 

Presumptuous  Crete  that  boasts  the  tomb  of  Jove? 

And  shall  not  Tantalus's  kingdoms  share 

Thy  wife  and  sister's  tutelary  care  ?  395 

Reverse,  O  Jove,  thy  too  severe  decree, 

Nor  doom  to  war  a  race  derived  from  thee ; 

On  impious  realms  and  barbVous  Kings  impose 

Thy  plagues,  and  curse  'em  with  such  Sons  as  those."  ^ 

Thus,  in  reproach  and  pray'r,  the  Queen  express'd  400 

The  rage  and  grief  contending  in  her  breast ; 
Unmov'd  remain'd  the  ruler  of  the  sky. 
And  from  his  throne  return'd  this  stern  reply. 
"  'T  was  thus  I  deem'd  thy  haughty  soul  would  bear  "1 
The  dire,  tho'  just,  revenge  which  I  prepare  >  405 

Against  a  nation,  thy  peculiar  care  :  J 

No  less  Dione  might  for  Thebes  contend, 
Nor  Bacchus  less  his  native  town  defend, 
Yet  these  in  silence  see  the  fates  fulfil 

Their  work,  and  rev'rence  our  superior  will.  410 

For  by  the  black  infernal  Styx  I  swear, 
(That  dreadful  oath  which  binds  the  Thunderer) 
'T  is  fix'd  ;  th'  irrevocable  doom  of  Jove  ; 
No  force  can  bend  me,  no  persuasion  move. 
Haste  then,  Cyllenius,  thro'  the  liquid  air;  415 

Go  mount  the  winds,  and  to  the  shades  repair; 
Bid  hell's  black  monarch  my  commands  obey, 
And  give  up  Laius  to  the  realms  of  day. 
Whose  ghost  yet  shiv'ring  on  Cocytus'  sand, 
Expects  its  passage  to  the  further  strand :  420 

Let  the  pale  sire  revisit  Thebes,  and  bear 
These  pleasing  orders  to  the  tyrant's  ear ; 
That,  from  his  exil'd  brother,  swell'd  with  pride 
, Of  foreign  forces,  and  his  Argive  bride, 

Almighty  Jove  commands  him  to  detain  425 

The  promis'd  empire,  and  alternate  reign : 
Be  this  the  cause  of  more  than  mortal  hate : 
The  rest,  succeeding  times  shall  ripen  into  Fate." 

The  God  obeys,  and  to  his  feet  applies 
Those  golden  wings  that  cut  the  yielding  skies ;  430 

His  ample  hat  his  beamy  locks  o'erspread, 
And  veil'd  the  starry  glories  of  his  head! 
He  seiz'd  the  wand  that  causes  sleep  to  fly, 
Or  in  soft  slumbers  seals  the  wakeful  eye ; 
That  drives  the  dead  to  dark  Tartarean  coasts,  435 

Or  back  to  life  compels  the  wand'ring  ghosts. 

1  Eteocles  and  Polynices.    P. 


THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,  BOOK  L  165 

Thus,  thro'  the  parting  clouds,  the  son  of  May 

Wings  on  the  whistling  winds  his  rapid  way ; 

Now  smoothly  steers  thro'  air  his  equal  flight, 

Now  springs  aloft,  and  tow'rs  th'  ethereal  height ;  440 

Then  wheeling  down  the  steep  of  heav'n  he  flies, 

And  draws  a  radiant  circle  o'er  the  skies. 

Meantime  the  banish'd  Polynices  roves 
(His  Thebes  abandon'd)  thro'  th'  Aonian  groves, 
While  future  realms  his  wand'ring  thoughts  delight,  445 

His  daily  vision  and  his  dream  by  night ; 
Forbidden  Thebes  appears  before  his  eye. 
From  whence  he  sees  his  absent  brother  fly, 
With  transport  views  the  airy  rule  his  own. 
And  swells  on  an  imaginary  throne,  450 

Fain  would  he  cast  a  tedious  age  away. 
And  live  out  all  in  one  triumphant  day. 
He  chides  the  lazy  progress  of  the  sun, 
And  bids  the  year  with  swifter  motion  run. 
With  anxious  hopes  his  craving  mind  is  tost,  455 

And  all  his  joys  in  length  of  wishes  lost. 

The  hero  then  resolves  his  course  to  bend  "^ 

Where  ancient  Danaus'  fruitful  fields  extend,  >  - 

And  fam'd  Mycenae's  lofty  tow'rs  ascend,  J 

(Where  late  the  sun  did  Atreus'  crimes  detest,  460 

And  disappear'd  in  horror  of  the  feast). 
And  now  by  chance,  by  fate,  or  furies  led, 
From  Bacchus'  consecrated  caves  he  fled. 
Where  the  shrill  cries  of  frantic  matrons  sound. 
And  Pentheus'  blood  enrich'd  the  rising  ground.  465 

Then  sees  Cithaeron  tow'ring  o'er  the  plain. 
And  thence  declining  gently  to  the  main. 
Next  to  the  bounds  of  Nisus'  realm  repairs. 
Where  treach'rous  Scylla  cuts  the  purple  hairs : 
The  hanging  cliffs  of  Scyron's  rock  explores,^  470 

And  hears  the  murmurs  of  the  diff''rent  shores : 
Passes  the  strait  that  parts  the  foaming  seas. 
And  stately  Corinth's  pleasing  site  surveys. 

'T  was  now  the  time  when  Phoebus  yields  to  night 
And  rising  Cynthia  sheds  her  silver  light,  475 

Wide  o'er  the  world  in  solemn  pomp  she  drew 
Her  airy  chariot  hung  with  pearly  dew ; 
All  birds  and  beast  lie  hush'd ;  sleep  steals  away 
The  wild  desires  of  men,  and  toils  of  day. 

And  brings,  descending  thro'  the  silent  air,  480 

A  sweet  forgetfulness  of  human  care. 
Yet  no  red  clouds,  with  golden  borders  gay, 
Promise  the  skies  the  bright  return  of  day  ; 

1  [Megara.     See  Ov.  Metam.  viii.  vv.  dff.l       Megaris    and    Attica    infested    by  the    robber 

2  [Pope  evidently  confounds   the   island   of    Sciron  whom  Theseus  slew.     See  Ov.  Metam. 
Scyros  in  the  iEgean  with  the  rocks  between    vii.  v.  444.] 


i66  THEBAIS   OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  L 

No  faint  reflections  of  the  distant  light 

Streak  with  long  gleams  the  scattering  shades  of  night ;         485 

From  the  damp  earth  impervious  vapours  rise, 

Increase  the  darkness  and  involve  the  skies. 

At  once  the  rushing  winds  with  roaring  sound 

Burst  from  th'  ^olian  caves,  and  rend  the  ground, 

With  equal  rage  their  airy  quarrel  try,  490 

And  win  by  turns  the  kingdom  of  the  sky : 

But  with  a  thicker  night  black  Auster  shrouds 

The  heav'ns,  and  drives  on  heaps  the  rolling  clouds, 

From  whose  dark  womb  a  rattling  tempest  pours, 

Which  the  cold  north  congeals  to  haily  showVs.  495 

From  pole  to  pole  the  thunder  roars  aloud, 

And  broken  lightnings  flash  from  ev'ry  cloud. 

Now  smokes  with  showVs  the  misty  mountain-ground 

And  floated  fields  lie  undistinguished  round. 

Th'  Inachian  streams  with  headlong  fury  run,  500 

And  Erasinus  rolls  a  deluge  on : 

The  foaming  Lerna  swells  above  its  bounds, 

And  spreads  its  ancient  poisons  o'er  the  grounds  : 

Where  late  was  dust,  now  rapid  torrents  play, 

Rush  thro'  the  mounds,  and  bear  the  dams  away;  505 

Old  limbs  of  trees  from  crackling  forests  torn. 

Are  whirPd  in  air,  and  on  the  winds  are  borne, 

The  storm  the  dark'  Lycaean  groves  displayed, 

And  first  to  light  exposM  the  sacred  shade. 

Th'  intrepid  Theban  hears  the  bursting  sky,  510 

Sees  yawning  rocks  in  massy  fragments  fly. 

And  views  astonished,  from  the  hills  afar. 

The  floods  descending,  and  the  watery  war, 

That,  driv'n  by  storms  and  pouring  o'er  the  plain, 

Swept  herds,  and  hinds,  and  houses  to  the  main.  515 

Thro'  the  brown  horrors  of  the  night  he  fled, 

Nor  knows,  amazM,  what  doubtful  path  to  tread. 

His  brother's  image  to  his  mind  appears, 

Inflames  his  heart  with  rage,  and  wings  his  feet  with  fears. 

So  fares  a  sailor  on  the  stormy  main,  520 

When  clouds  conceal  Bootes'  golden  wain. 
When  not  a  star  its  friendly  lustre  keeps, 
Nor  trembling  Cynthia  glimmers  on  the  deeps  ; 
He  dreads  the  rocks,  and  shoals,  and  seas,  and  skies. 
While  thunder  roars,  and  lightning  round  him  flies.  525 

Thus  strove  the  chief,  on  ev'ry  side  distress'd. 
Thus  still  his  courage,  with  his  toils  increas'd ; 
With  his  broad  shield  oppos'd,  he  forc'd  his  way 
Thro'  thickest  woods,  and  rous'd  the  beasts  of  prey. 
Till  he  beheld,  where  from  Larissa's  height  53^ 

The  shelving  walls  reflect  a  glancing  light : 
Thither  with  haste  the  Theban  hero  flies ; 
On  this  side  Lerna's  pois'nous  water  lies, 


THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  /.  167 

On  that  Prosymna's  grove  and  temple  rise : 

He  passM  the  gates  which  then  unguarded  lay,  535 

And  to  the  regal  palace  bent  his  way ; 

On  the  cold  marble,  spent  with  toil,  he  lies, 

And  waits  till  pleasing  slumbers  seal  his  eyes. 

Adrastus  here  his  happy  people  sways. 
Blest  with  calm  peace  in  his  declining  days,  540 

By  both  his  parents  of  descent  divine, 
Great  Jove  and  Phoebus  gracM  his  noble  line : 
Heaven  had  not  crownM  his  wishes  with  a  son, 
But  two  fair  daughters  heir'd  his  state  and  throne. 
To  him  Apollo  (wond'rous  to  relate!  545 

But  who  can  pierce  into  the  depths  of  fate?) 
Had  sung  —  "  Expect  thy  sons  on  Argos'  shore, 
A  yellow  lion  and  a  bristly  boar." 
This  long  revolvM  in  his  paternal  breast, 

Sate  heavy  on  his  heart,  and  broke  his  rest ;  550 

This,  great  Amphiaraus,  lay  hid  from  thee, 
Tho'  skilPd  in  fate,  and  dark  futurity. 
The  father's  care  and  prophet's  art  were  vain, 
For  thus  did  the  predicting  God  ordain. 

Lo  hapless  Tydeus,  whose  ill-fated  hand  555 

Had  slain  his  brother,  leaves  his  native  land,   ' 
And  seiz'd  with  horror  in  the  shades  of  night. 
Thro'  the  thick  deserts  headlong  urg'd  his  flight : 
Now  by  the  fury  of  the  tempest  driv'n, 

He  seeks  a  shelter  from  th'  inclement  heav'n,  560 

'Till  led  by  fate,  the  Theban's  steps  he  treads, 
And  to  fair  Argos'  open  court  succeeds. 

When  thus  the  chiefs  from  diff'rent  lands  resort 
T'  Adrastus'  realms,  and  hospitable  court ; 
The  King  surveys  his  guests  with  curious  eyes,  565 

And  views  their  arms  and  habit  with  surprise. 
A  lion's  yellow  skin  the  Theban  wears, 
Horrid  his  mane,  and  rough  with  curling  hairs ; 
Such  once  employ'd  Alcides'  youthful  toils, 
Ere  yet  adorn'd  with  Nemea's  dreadful  spoils.  570 

A  boar's  stiff  hide,  of  Calydonian  breed, 
Oenides'  manly  shoulders  overspread. 
Oblique  his  tusks,  erect  his  bristles  stood. 
Alive,  the  pride  and  terror  of  the  wood. 

Struck  with  the  sight,  and  fix'd  in  deep  amaze,  575 

The  King  th'  accomplish'd  Oracle  surveys, 
Reveres  Apollo's  vocal  caves,  and  owns 
The  guiding  Godhead,  and  his  future  sons. 
O'er  all  his  bosom  secret  transports  reign, 
And  a  glad  horror  shoots  thro'  ev'ry  vein.  580 

To  heav'n  he  lifts  his  hands,  erects  his  sight, 
And  thus  invokes  the  silent  Queen  of  night. 

"  Goddess  of  shades,  beneath  whose  gloomy  reign 


i68  THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,  BOOK  I. 

Yon'  spangled  arch  glows  with  the  starry  train : 

You  who  the  cares  of  heav'n  and  earth  allay,         ")  585 

'Till  nature  quickened  by  th'  inspiring  ray 

Wakes  to  new  vigour  with  the  rising  day. 

Oh  thou  who  freest  me  from  my  doubtful  state, 

Long  lost  and  wilder'd  in  the  maze  of  Fate! 

Be  present  still,  oh  Goddess !  in  our  aid  ;  590 

Proceed,  and  firm  ^  those  omens  thou  hast  made. 

We  to  thy  name  our  annual  rites  will  pay. 

And  on  thy  altars  sacrifices  lay; 

The  sable  flock  shall  fall  beneath  the  stroke. 

And  fill  thy  temples  with  a  grateful  smoke.  595 

Hail,  faithful  Tripos !  hail,  ye  dark  abodes 

Of  awful  Phoebus!  I  confess  the  Gods!" 

Thus,  seiz'd  with  sacred  fear,  the  monarch  pray'd ; 
Then  to  his  inner  court  the  guests  conveyed ; 
Where  yet  thin  fumes  from  dying  sparks  arise,     '^  600 

And  dust  yet  white  upon  each  altar  lies. 
The  relics  of  a  former  sacrifice. 
The  King  once  more  the  solemn  rites  requires, 
And  bids  renew  the  feasts,  and  wake  the  fires. 
His  train  obey,  while  all  the  courts  around  '       605 

With  noisy  care  and  various  tumult  sound. 
Embroider'd  purple  clothes  the  golden  beds ; 
This  slave  the  floor,  and  that  the  table  spreads ; 
A  third  dispels  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

And  fills  depending  lamps  with  beams  of  light ;  610 

Here  loaves  in  canisters  are  piPd  on  high. 
And  there  in  flames,  the  slaughtered  victims  fry. 
Sublime  in  regal  state  Adrastus  shone. 
Stretched  on  rich  carpets  on  his  iv'ry  throne ; 
A  lofty  couch  receives  each  princely  guest ;  615 

Around,  at  awful  distance,  wait  the  rest. 

And  now  the  king,  his  royal  feast  to  grace, 
Acestis  calls,  the  guardian  of  his  race. 
Who  first  their  youth  in  arts  of  virtue  trained. 
And  their  ripe  years  in  modest  grace  maintained.  620 

Then  softly  whisperM  in  her  faithful  ear. 
And  bade  his  daughters  at  the  rites  appear. 
When  from  the  close  apartments  of  the  night. 
The  royal  Nymphs  approach  divinely  bright ; 
Such  was  Diana's,  such  Minerva's  face ;  625 

Nor  shine  their  beauties  with  superior  grace, 
But  that  in  these  a  milder  charm  endears. 
And  less  of  terror  in  their  looks  appears. 
As  on  the  heroes  first  they  cast  their  eyes. 
O'er  their  fair  cheeks  the  glowing  blushes  rise,  630 

Their  downcast  looks  a  decent  shame  confess'd, 

1  [firm,  i.e.  confirm,  accomplish.] 


THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,  BOOK  I.  169 

Then  on  their  father's  rev'rend  features  rest. 

The  banquet  done,  the  monarch  gives  the  sign 
To  fill  the  goblet  high  with  sparkling  wine, 
Which  Danaus  us'd  in  secret  rites  of  old,  635 

With  sculpture  grac'd,  and  rough  with  rising  gold. 
Here  to  the  clouds  victorious  Perseus  flies, 
Medusa  seems  to  move  her  languid  eyes, 
And  ev'n  in  gold,  turns  paler  as  she  dies. 
There  from  the  chase  Jove's  tow'ring  eagle  bear's  640 

On  golden  wings,  the  Phrygian  to  the  stars : 
Still  as  he  rises  in  th'  etherial  height. 
His  native  mountains  lessen  to  his  sight ; 
While  all  his  sad  companions  upward  gaze, 
Fix'd  on  the  glorious  scene  in  wild  amaze ;  645 

And  the  swift  hounds,  aifrighted  as  he  flies, 
Run  to  the  shade,  and  bark  against  the  skies. 

This  golden  bowl  with  genVous  juice  was  crown'd, 
The  first  libations  sprinkled  on  the  ground. 
By  turns  on  each  celestial  pow'r  they  call ;  650 

With  Phoebus'  name  resounds  the  vaulted  hall. 
The  courtly  train,  the  strangers,  and  the  rest, 
Crown'd  with  chaste  laurel,  and  with  garlands  dress'd, 
While  with  rich  gums  the  fuming  altars  blaze. 
Salute  the  God  in  numerous  ^  hymns  of  praise.  655 

Then  thus  the  King :  "  Perhaps,  my  noble  guests, 
These  honoured  altars,  and  these  annual  feasts 
To  bright  Apollo's  awful  name  design'd. 
Unknown,  with  wonder  may  perplex  your  mind. 
Great  was  the  cause  ;  our  old  solemnities  660 

From  no  blind  zeal  or  fond  tradition  rise ; 
But  sav'd  from  death,  our  Argives  yearly  pay 
These  grateful  honours  to  the  God  of  Day. 

"  When  by  a  thousancf  darts  the  Python  slain 
With  orbs  unroll'd  lay  cov'ring  all  the  plain,  665 

(Transfix'd  as  o'er  Castalia's  streams  he  hung. 
And  suck'd  new  poisons  with  his  triple  tongue) 
To  Argos'  realms  the  victor  god  resorts. 
And  enters  old  Crotopus'  humble  courts. 

This  rural  prince  one  only  daughter  blest,  670 

That  all  the  charms  of  blooming  youth  possess'd ; 
Fair  was  her  face,  and  spotless  was  her  mind. 
Where  filial  love  with  virgin  sweetness  join'd. 
Happy !  and  happy  still  she  might  have  prov'd. 
Were  she  less  beautiful,  or  less  belov'd !  675 

But  Phoebus  lov'd,  and  on  the  flow'ry  side 
Of  Nemea's  stream,  the  yielding  fair  enjoy'd  : 
Now,  ere  ten  moons  their  orb  with  light  adorn, 
Th'  illustrious  oflspring  of  the  God  was  born, 

1  [num'rous,  i.e.  harmonious.] 


170  THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,  BOOK  I. 

The  Nymph,  her  father's  anger  to  evade,  680 

Retires  from  Argos  to  the  sylvan  shade ; 

To  woods  and  wilds  the  pleasing  burden  bears, 

And  trusts  her  infant  to  a  shepherd's  cares. 

"  How  mean  a  fate,  unhappy  child  !  is  thine  ! 
Ah  how  unworthy  those  of  race  divine!  685 

On  flow'ry  herbs  in  some  green  covert  laid. 
His  bed  the  ground,  his  canopy  the  shade, 
He  mixes  with  the  bleating  lambs  his  cries. 
While  the  rude  swain  his  rural  music  tries. 
To  call  soft  slumbers  on  his  infant  eyes.  J  690 

Yet  ev'n  in  those  obscure  abodes  to  live. 
Was  more,  alas!  than  cruel  fate  would  give, 
For  on  the  grassy  verdure  as  he  lay, 
And  breath'd  the  freshness  of  the  early  day, 
Devouring  dogs  the  helpless  infant  tore,  695 

Fed  on  his  trembling  limbs,  and  lapp'd  the  gore. 
Th'  astonished  mother,  when  the  rumour  came. 
Forgets  her  father,  and  neglects  her  fame. 
With  loud  complaints  she  fills  the  yielding  air. 
And  beats  her  breast,  and  rends  her  flowing  hair ;  700 

Then  wild  with  anguish  to  her  sire  she  flies : 
Demands  the  sentence,  and  contented  dies. 

'•'•  But  touched  with  sorrow  for  the  dead  too  late. 
The  raging  God  prepares  f  avenge  her  fate. 
He  sends  a  monster,  horrible  and  fell,  705 

Begot  by  furies  in  the  depths  of  hell. 
The  pest  a  virgin's  face  and  bosom  bears ; 
High  on  a  crown  a  rising  snake  appears. 
Guards  her  black  front,  and  hisses  in  her  hairs : 
About  the  realm  she  walks  her  dreadful  round,  710 

When  night  with  sable  wings  o'erspreads  the  ground, 
Devours  young  babes  before  their  parents'  eyes. 
And  feeds  and  thrives  on  public  miseries. 

"  But  gen'rous  rage  the  bold  Choroebus  warms, 
Choroebus,  fam'd  for  virtue,  as  for  arms ;  715 

Some  few  like  him,  inspir'd  with  martial  flame. 
Thought  a  short  life  well  lost  for  endless  fame. 
These,  where  two  ways  in  equal  parts  divide. 
The  direful  monster  from  afar  descry'd  ; 
Two  bleeding  babes  depending  at  her  side  ;  )  720 

Whose  panting  vitals,  warm  with  life,  she  draws, 
And  in  their  hearts  embrues  her  cruel  claws. 
The  youths  surround  her  with  extended  spears ; 
But  brave  Choroebus  in  the  front  appears. 
Deep  in  her  breast  he  plung'd  his  shining  sword,  725 

And  hell's  dire  monster  back  to  hell  restor'd. 
Th'  Inachians  view  the  slain  with  vast  surprise, 
Her  twisting  volumes  and  her  rolling  eyes. 
Her  spotted  breast,  and  gaping  womb  embru'd 


THEBAIS  OF  STATIUS,   BOOK  /.  171 

With  livid  poison,  and  our  children's  blood.  730 

The  crowd  in  stupid  wonder  fixM  appear, 

Pale  ev'n  in  joy,  nor  yet  forget  to  fear. 

Some  with  vast  beams  the  squalid  corpse  engage, 

And  weary  all  the  wild  efforts  of  rage. 

The  birds  obscene,  that  nightly  flock'd  to  taste,  735 

With  hollow  screeches  fled  the  dire  repast ; 

And  rav'nous  dogs,  allurM  by  scented  blood, 

And  starving  wolves,  ran  howling  to  the  wood. 

"  But  fir'd  with  rage,  from  cleft  Parnassus'  brow    ^ 
Avenging  Phoebus  bent  his  deadly  bow,  \  740 

And  hissing  flew  the  feathered  fates  below ;  J 

A  night  of  sultry  clouds  involv'd  around 
The  tow'rs,  the  fields  and  the  devoted  ground : 
And  now  a  thousand  lives  together  fled,  "J 

Death  with  his  scythe  cut  off  the  fatal  thread,  >  745 

And  a  whole  province  in  his  triumph  led.  J 

"  But  Phoebus,  ask'd  why  noxious  fires  appear, 
And  raging  Sirius  blasts  the  sickly  year ; 
Demands  their  lives  by  whom  his  monster  fell, 
And  dooms  a  dreadful  sacrifice  to  hell.  750 

*'  Bless'd  be  thy  dust,  and  let  eternal  fame 
Attend  thy  Manes,  and  preserve  thy  name ; 
Undaunted  hero!  who  divinely  brave. 
In  such  a  cause  disdain'd  thy  life  to  save ; 
But  view'd  the  shrine  with  a  superior  look,  755 

And  its  upbraided  Godhead  thus  bespoke. 

"  '  With  piety,  the  souPs  securest  guard. 
And  conscious  virtue,  still  its  own  reward. 
Willing  I  come,  unknowing  how  to  fear ; 

Nor  shalt  thou,  Phoebus,  find  a  suppliant  here.  760 

Thy  monster's  death  to  me  was  ow'd  alone. 
And  \  is  a  deed  too  glorious  to  disown. 
Behold  him  here,  for  whom,  so  many  days, 
Impervious  clouds  conceaPd  thy  sullen  rays ; 
For  whom,  as  Man  no  longer  claim 'd  thy  care,  765 

Such  numbers  fell  by  pestilential  air! 
But  if  th'  abandoned  race  of  human  kind 
From  Gods  above  no  more  compassion  find ; 
If  such  inclemency  in  heav'n  can  dwell,  "j 

Yet  why  must  unoffending  Argos  feel  >  770 

The  vengeance  due  to  this  unlucky  steel?  J 

On  me,  on  me,  let  all  thy  fury  fall. 
Nor  err  from  me,  since  I  deserve  it  all : 
Unless  our  desert  cities  please  thy  sight. 

Or  fun'ral  flames  reflect  a  grateful  light.  775 

Discharge  thy  shafts,  this  ready  bosom  rend. 
And  to  the  shades  a  ghost  triumphant  send ; 
But  for  my  Country  let  my  fate  atone. 
Be  mine  the  vengeance,  as  the  crime  my  own.' 


172  THEBAIS  OF  STATTUS,  BOOK  /. 

"  Merit  distressed,  impartial  heav'n  relieves  :  780 

Unwelcome  life  relenting  Phoebus  gives  ; 
For  not  the  vengeful  pow'r,  that  glowM  with  rage 
With  such  amazing  virtue  durst  engage. 
The  clouds  dispersed,  Apollo's  wrath  expir'd, 
And  from  the  wondering  God  th'  unwilling  youth  retir'd.      785 
Thence  we  these  altars  in  his  temple  raise, 
And  offer  annual  honours,  feasts,  and  praise ; 
These  solemn  feasts  propitious  Phoebus  please : 
These  honours,  still  renewM,  his  ancient  wrath  appease. 

"  But  say,  illustrious  guest ''  (adjoined  the  King)  790 

"What  name  you  bear,  from  what  high  race  you  spring? 
The  noble  Tydeus  stands  confessed,  and  known 
Our  neighbour  Prince,  and  heir  of  Calydon. 
Relate  your  fortunes,  while  the  friendly  night 
And  silent  hours  to  various  talk  invite."  795 

The  Theban  bends  on  earth  his  gloomy  eyes, 
ConfusM,  and  sadly  thus  at  length  replies : 
"  Before  these  altars  how  shall  I  proclaim 
(Oh  genVous  prince)  my  nation  or  my  name. 
Or  thro'  what  veins  our  ancient  blood  has  rolPd?  800 

Let  the  sad  tale  for  ever  rest  untold! 
Yet  if  propitious  to  a  wretch  unknown. 
You  seek  to  share  in  sorrows  not  your  own ; 
Know  then  froni  Cadmus  I  derive  my  race, 
Jocasta's  son,  and  Thebes  my  native  place.''  805 

To  whom  the  King  (who  felt  his  gen'rous  breast 
Touch'd  with  concern  for  his  unhappy  guest) 
Replies  —  "  Ah  why  forbears  the  son  to  name 
His  wretched  father  known  too  well  by  fame? 
Fame,  that  delights  around  the  world  to  stray,  810 

Scorns  not  to  take  our  Argos  in  her  way. 
E'en  those  who  dwell  where  suns  at  distance  roll, 
In  northern  wilds,  and  freeze  beneath  the  pole ; 
And  those  who  tread  the  burning  Libyan  lands, 
The  faithless  Syrtes  and  the  moving  sands  ;  815 

Who  view  the  western  sea's  extremest  bounds, 
Or  drink  of  Ganges  in  their  eastern  grounds ; 
All  these  the  woes  of  (Edipus  have  known. 
Your  fates,  your  furies,  and  your  haunted  town. 
If  on  the  sons  the  parents'  crimes  descend,  820 

What  Prince  from  those  his  lineage  can  defend? 
Be  this  thy  comfort,  that  't  is  thine  t'  efface  ") 
With  virtuous  acts  thy  ancestor's  disgrace,  > 

And  be  thyself  the  honour  of  thy  race.  J 

But  see!  the  stars  begin  to  steal  away,  825 

And  shine  more  faintly  at  approaching  day ; 
Now  pour  the  wine  ;  and  in  your  tuneful  lays 
Once  more  resound  the  great  Apollo's  praise." 

"Oh  father  Phoebus!  whether  Lycia's  coast 


FABLE  OF  DRYOPE.  173 

And  snowy  mountains  thy  bright  presence  boast ;  830 

Whether  to  sweet  Castaiia  thou  repair, 

And  bathe  in  silver  dews  thy  yellow  Imir ; 

Or  pleased  to  find  fair  Delos  float  no  more, 

Delight  in  Cynthus,  and  the  shady  shore ; 

Or  choose  thy  seat  in  Ilion's  proud  abodes,  835 

The  shining  structures  raisM  by  laboring  Gods, 

By  thee  the  bow  and  mortal  shafts  are  borne ; 

Eternal  charms  thy  blooming  youth  adorn : 

SkilPd  in  the  laws  of  secret  fate  above, 

And  the  dark  counsels  of  almighty  Jove,  840 

'T  is  thine  the  seeds  of  future  war  to  know, 

The  change  of  Sceptres,  and  impending  woe ; 

When  direful  meteors  spread  thro'  glowing  air 

Long  trails  of  light,  and  shake  their  blazing  hair. 

Thy  rage  the  Phrygian  felt,  who  durst  aspire  845 

T'  excel  the  music  of  thy  heav'nly  lyre ; 

Thy  shafts  aveng'd  lewd  Tityus'  guilty  flame, 

Th'  immortal  victim  of  thy  mother's  fame ; 

Thy  hand  slew  Python,  and  the  dame  who  lost 

Her  numerous  offspring  for  a  fatal  boast.  850 

In  Phlegyas'  doom  thy  just  revenge  appears. 

Condemned  to  furies  and  eternal  fears ; 

He  views  his  food,  but  dreads,  with  lifted  eye, 

The  mouldering  rock  that  trembles  from  on  high. 

"Propitious  hear  our  pray'r,  Q  PowV  divine!  855 

And  on  thy  hospitable  Argos  shine, 
Whether  the  style  of  Titan  please  thee  more, 
Whose  purple  rays  th'  Achaemenes  ^  adore  ; 
Or  great  Osiris,  who  first  taught  the  swain 
In  Pharian  fields  to  sow  the  golden  grain;  860 

Or  Mitra,  to  whose  beams  the  Persian  bows, 
And  pays,  in  hollow  rocks,  his  awful  vows ; 
Mitra,  whose  head  the  blaze  of  light  adorns,^ 
Who  grasps  the  struggling  heifer's  lunar  horns." 


THE   FABLE   OF   DRYOPE. 

From  the  Ninth  Book  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,    [w.  324-393.] 

Upon  occasion  of  the  death  of  Hercules,  his  mother  Alcmena  recounts  her  mis- 
fortunes to  lole,  who  answers  with  a  relation  of  those  of  her  own  family,  in  particular 
the  Transformation  of  her  sister  Dryope,  which  is  the  subject  of  the  ensuing  Fable.    P. 

1  Achaemenes.  [Pope  means  *  Achaemenids,'  ^  [These  foreign  worships  were  fully  natural- 
or  descendants  of  Achaemenes,  the  grandfather  ised  at  Rome  about  the  time  when  the  Thebais 
of  Cyrus;  i.e.  the  Persians.]  was  wriiicil.7 


174  FABLE  OF  DRYOPE. 

SHE  said,^  and  for  her  lost  Galanthis  sighs. 
When  the  fair  Consort  of  her  son  replies. 
"  Since  you  a  servant's  ravish'd  form  bemoan, 
And  kindly  sigh  for  sorrows  not  your  own ; 
Let  me  (if  tears  and  grief  permit)  relate  5 

A  nearer  woe,  a  sister's  stranger  fate. 
No  Nymph  of  all  CEchalia  could  compare 
For  beauteous  form  with  Dryope  the  fair, 
Her  tender  mother's  only  hope  and  pride, 

(Myself  the  oifspring  of  a  second  bride)  lo 

This  Nymph  compressed  by  him  who  rules  the  day, 
Whom  Delphi  and  the  Delian  isle  obey, 
Andraemon  lov'd  ;  and,  bless'd  in  all  those  charms 
That  pleas'd  a  God,  succeeded  to  her  arms. 

"A  lake  there  was,  with  shelving  banks  around,  15 

Whose  verdant  summit  fragrant  myrtles  crown'd. 
These  shades,  unknowing  of  the  fates,  she  sought, 
And  to  the  Naiads  flow'ry  garlands  brought ; 
Her  smiling  babe  (a  pleasing  charge)  she  prest 
Within  her  arms,  and  nourished  at  her  breast.  20 

Not  distant  far,  a  wat'ry  Lotos  grows, 
The  spring  was  new,  and  all  the  verdant  boughs 
Adorn'd  with  blossoms  promised  fruits  that  vie 
In  glowing  colours  with  the  Tyrian  dye : 

Of  these  she  cropped  to  please  her  infant  son,  25 

And  1  myself  the  same  rash  act  had  done : 
But  lo!  I  saw,  (as  near  her  side  I  stood) 
The  violated  blossoms  drop  with  blood ; 
Upon  the  tree  I  cast  a  frightful  look ; 

The  trembling  tree  with  sudden  horror  shook.  30 

Lotis  the  nymph. (if  rural  tales  be  true) 
As  from  Priapus'  lawless  lust  she  flew. 
Forsook  her  form  ;  and  fixing  here  became 
A  flow'ry  plant,  which  still  preserves  her  name. 

"  This  change  unknown,  astonished  at  the  sight  35 

My  trembling  sister  strove  to  urge  her  flight. 
And  first  the  pardon  of  the  nymphs  implored. 
And  those  offended  sylvan  powers  ador'd : 
But  when  she  backward  would  have  fled,  she  found 
Her  stiffening  feet  were  rooted  in  the  ground :  4c 

In  vain  to  free  her  fastened  feet  she  strove, 
And  as  she  struggles,  only  moves  above ; 
She  feels  th'  encroaching  bark  around  her  grow 
By  quick  degrees,  and  cover  all  below : 

Surprised  at  this,  her  trembling  hand  she  heaves  45 

To  rend  her  hair ;  her  hand  is  filPd  with  leaves  : 
Where  late  was  hair,  the  shooting  leaves  are  seen 
To  rise,  and  shade  her  with  a  sudden  green. 

1  Alcmena.     Galanthis,   one    of   her  female  servants,  had  been  turned  into  a  weasel.     lole, 
'  fair  consort "  of  her  grandson,  Hyllus. 


FABLE  OF  DRYOPE.  175 

The  child  Amphissus,  to  her  bosom  prest, 

Perceiv'd  a  colder  and  a  harder  breast,  50 

And  found  the  springs,  that  ne'er  till  then  denyM 

Their  milky  moisture,  on  a  sudden  dry'd. 

I  saw,  unhappy!  what  I  now  relate. 

And  stood  the  helpless  witness  of  thy  fate, 

Embraced  thy  boughs,  thy  rising  bark  delay'd,  55 

There  wishM  to  grow,  and  mingle  shade  with  shade. 

"  Behold  Andraemon  and  th*'  unhappy  sire 
Appear,  and  for  their  Dryope  enquire  ; 
A  springing  tree  for  Dryope  they  find. 

And  print  warm  kisses  on  the  panting  rind.  60 

Prostrate,  with  tears  their  kindred  plant  bedew, 
And  close  embrace  as  to  the  roots  they  grew, 
The  face  was  all  that  now  remainM  of  thee. 
No  more  a  woman,  nor  yet  quite  a  tree ; 
Thy  branches  hung  with  humid  pearls  appear,  65 

From  evVy  leaf  distils  a  trickling  tear. 
And  straight  a  voice,  while  yet  a  voice  remains. 
Thus  thro'  the  trembling  boughs  in  sighs  complains. 

"  '  If  to  the  wretched  any  faith  be  giv'n, 
I  swear  by  all  th'  unpitying  powVs  of  heav'n,  70 

No  wilful  crime  this  heavy  vengeance  bred ; 
In  mutual  innocence  our  lives  we  led  : 
If  this  be  false,  let  these  new  greens  decay, 
Let  sounding  axes  lop  my  limbs  away. 
And  crackling  flames  on  all  my  honours  prey.       J  75 

But  from  my  branching  arms  this  infant  bear. 
Let  some  kind  nurse  supply  a  mother's  care : 
And  to  his  mother  let  him  oft  be  led. 
Sport  in  her  shades,  and  in  her  shades  be  fed ; 
Teach  him,  when  first  his  infant  voice  shall  frame  80 

Imperfect  words,  and  lisp  his  mother's  name. 
To  hail  this  tree ;  and  say  with  weeping  eyes. 
Within  this  plant  my  hapless  parent  lies : 
And  when  in  youth  he  seeks  the  shady  woods. 
Oh,  let  him  fly  the  crystal  lakes  and  floods,  85 

Nor  touch  the  fatal  flow'rs ;  but,  warn'd  by  me. 
Believe  a  Goddess  shrin'd  in  ev'ry  tree. 
My  sire,  my  sister,  and  my  spouse  farewell! 
If  in  your  breasts  or  love,  or  pity  dwell, 

Protect  your  plant,  nor  let  my  branches  feel  90 

The  browsing  cattle  or  the  pi.ercing  steel. 
Farewell!  and  since  I  cannot  bend  to  join 
My  lips  to  yours,  advance  at  least  to  mine. 
My  son,  thy  mother's  parting  kiss  receive. 
While  yet  thy  mother  has  a  kiss  to  give.  95 

I  can  no  more ;  the  creeping  rind  invades 
My  closing  lips,  and  hides  my  head  in  shades : 
Remove  your  hands,  the  bark  shall  soon  suffice 


176  VERTUMNUS  AND  POMOIsrA, 

Without  their  aid  to  seal  these  dying  eyes.' 

"  She  ceasM  at  once  to  speak,  and  ceas'd  to  be ;  loo 

And  all  the  nymph  was  lost  within  the  tree ; 
Yet  latent  life  thro'  her  new  branches  reign'd, 
And  long  the  plant  a  human  heat  retain'd." 


VERTUMNUS   AND    POMONA. 

From  the  Fourteenth  Book  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses. 
[w.  623-771.     First  published  in  17 12,  in  Lintot's  Miscellany.] 

THE  fair  Pomona  flourished  in  his  reign ;  ^ 
Of  all  the  Virgins  of  the  sylvan  train, 
None  taught  the  trees  a  nobler  race  to  bear, 
Or  more  improved  the  vegetable  care. 

To  her  the  shady  grove,  the  flowVy  field,  5 

The  streams  and  fountains,  no  delights  could  yield ; 
'T  was  all  her  joy  the  ripening  fruits  to  tend, 
And  see  the  boughs  with  happy  burthens  bend. 
The  hook  she  bore  instead  of  Cynthia's  spear, 
To  lop  the  growth  of  the  luxuriant  year,  10 

To  decent  form  the  lawless  shoots  to  bring. 
And  teach  th'  obedient  branches  where  to  spring. 
Now  the  cleft  rind  inserted  graffs  receives. 
And  yields  an  offspring  more  than  nature  gives ; 
Now  sliding  streams  the  thirsty  plants  renew,  15 

And  feed  their  fibres  with  reviving  dew. 

These  cares  alone  her  virgin  breast  employ, 
Averse  from  Venus  and  the  nuptial  joy. 
Her  private  orchards,  walPd  on  evVy  side, 
To  lawless  sylvans  all  access  deny'd.  20 

How  oft  the  Satyrs  and  the  wanton  Fawns, 
Who  haunt  the  forests,  or  frequent  the  lawns. 
The  God  whose  ensign  scares  the  birds  of  prey,^ 
And  old  Silenus,  youthful  in  decay. 

Employed  their  wiles,  and  unavailing  care,  25 

To  pass  the  fences,  and  surprise  the  fair. 
Like  these,  Vertumnus  own'd  his  faithful  flame, 
Like  these,  rejected  by  the  scornful  dame. 
To  gain  her  sight  a  thousand  forms  he  wears. 
And  first  a  reaper  from  the  field  appears,  30 

Sweating  he  walks,  while  loads  of  golden  grain 
Overcharge  the  shoulders  of  the  seeming  swain. 
Oft  o'er  his  back  a  crooked  scythe  is  laid, 

1  [In  the  reign  of  Proca  (or  Procus)  one  of  the  ancient  Kings  of  Latium  residing  at  Alba 
enumerated  by  Ovid.]  *  [Priapus.] 


VERTUMNUS  AND  POMONA,  177 

And  wreathes  of  hay  his  sun-burnt  temples  shade : 

Oft  in  his  hardened  hand  a  goad  he  bears,  35 

Like  one  who  late  unyok'd  the  sweating  steers. 

Sometimes  his  pruning-hook  corrects  the  vines, 

And  the  loose  stragglers  to  their  ranks  confines. 

Now  gathering  what  the  bounteous  year  allows, 

He  pulls  ripe  apples  from  the  bending  boughs.  40 

A  soldier  now,  he  with  his  sword  appears ; 

A  fisher  next,  his  trembling  angle  bears  ; 

Each  shape  he  varies,  and  each  art  he  tries, 

On  her  bright  charms  to  feast  his  longing  eyes. 

A  female  form  at  last  Vertumnus  wears,  "^  45 

With  all  the  marks  of  rev'rend  age  appears,  \ 

His  temples  thinly  spread  with  silver  hairs ;  J 

Propped  on  his  staff,  and  stooping  as  he  goes, 
A  painted  mitre  shades  his  furrow'd  brows. 
The  God  in  this  decrepit  form  arrayM,  ^  50 

The  gardens  enter'd,  and  the  fruit  surveyed, 
And  "  Happy  you!"  (he  thus  addressed  the  maid) 
"  Whose  charms  as  far  all  other  nymphs  out-shine, 
As  other  gardens  are  excelPd  by  thine !  " 
Then  kissed  the  fair ;  (his  kisses  warmer  grow  55 

Than  such  as  women  on  their  sex  bestow.) 
Then  placed  beside  her  on  the  flow'ry  ground. 
Beheld  the  trees  with  autumn's  bounty  crown'd. 
An  Elm  was  near,  to  whose  embraces  led,  " 
The  curling  vine  her  swelling  clusters  spread :  60 

He  view'd  her  twining  branches  with  delight, 
And  prais'd  the  beauty  of  the  pleasing  sight. 

"  Yet  this  tall  elm,  but  for  his  vine  "  (he  said) 
"  Had  stood  neglected,  and  a  barren  shade ; 
And  this  fair  vine,  but  that  her  arms  surround  65 

Her  marry'd  elm,  had  crept  along  the  ground. 
Ah  beauteous  maid,  let  this  example  move 
Your  mind,  averse  from  all  the  joys  of  love. 
Deign  to  be  lov'd,  and  ev'ry  heart  subdue! 
What  nymph  could  e'er  attract  such  crowds  as  you  ?  70 

Not  she  whose  beauty  urg'd  the  Centaurs'  arms, 
Ulysses'  Queen,  nor  Helen's  fatal  charms. 
Ev'n  now,  when  silent  scorn  is  all  they  gain, 
A  thousand  court  you,  tho'  they  court  in  vain, 
A  thousand  sylvans,  demigods,  and  gods,  75 

That  haunt  our  mountains  and  our  Alban  woods. 
But  if  you  '11  prosper,  mark  what  I  advise. 
Whom  age,  and  long  experience  render  wise. 
And  one  whose  tender  care  is  far  above 
All  that  these  lovers  ever  felt  of  love,  80 

(Far  more  than  e'er  can  by  yourself  be  guess'd) 
Fix  on  Vertumnus,  and  reject  the  rest. 
For  his  firm  faith  I  dare  engage  my  own  j 


178  VERTUMNUS  AND  POMONA, 

Scarce  to  himself,  himself  is  better  known. 

To  distant  lands  Vertumnus  never  roves  ;  85 

Like  you  contented  with  his  native  groves ; 

Nor  at  first  sight,  like  most,  admires  the  fair ;         \ 

For  you  he  lives  ;  and  you  alone  shall  share  > 

His  last  affection,  as  his  early  care.  J 

Besides,  he 's  lovely  far  above  the  rest,  90 

With  youth  immortal,  and  with  beauty  blest. 

Add,  that  he  varies  ev'ry  shape  with  ease. 

And  tries  all  forms  that  may  Pomona  please. 

But  what  should  most  excite  a  mutual  flame, 

Your  rural  cares,  and  pleasures  are  the  same :  95 

To  him  your  orchard's  early  fruits  are  due, 

(A  pleasing  offering  when  't  is  made  by  you) 

He  values  these;  but  yet  (alas!)  complains, 

That  still  the  best  and  dearest  gift  remains. 

Not  the  fair  fruit  that  on  yon'  branches  glows  lOO 

With  that  ripe  red  th'  autumnal  sun  bestows ; 

Nor  tasteful  herbs  that  in  these  gardens  rise, 

Which  the  kind  soil  with  milky  sap  supplies  ; 

You,  only  you,  can  move  the  God's  desire : 

Oh  crown  so  constant  and  so  pure  a  fire!  105 

Let  soft  compassion  touch  your  gentle  mind ; 

Think,  'tis  Vertumnus  begs  you  to  be  kind! 

So  may  no  frost,  when  early  buds  appear. 

Destroy  the  promise  of  the  youthful  year ; 

Nor  winds,  when  first  your  florid  orchard  blows,  IIO 

Shake  the  light  blossoms  from  their  blasted  boughs ! " 

This  when  the  various  God  had  urg'd  in  vain, 
He  straight  assum'd  his  native  form  again ; 
Such,  and  so  bright  an  aspect  now  he  bears. 
As  when  thro'  clouds  th'  emerging  sun  appears,  115 

And  thence  exerting  his  refulgent  ray, 
Dispels  the  darkness,  and  reveals  the  day. 
Force  he  prepar'd  but  check'd  the  rash  design ; 
For  when,  appearing  in  a  form  divine. 

The  Nymph  surveys  him,  and  beholds  the  grace  120 

Of  charming  features,  and  a  youthful  face. 
In  her  soft  breast  consenting  passions  move. 
And  the  warm  maid  confess'd  a  mutual  love. 


IMITATIONS  OF  ENGLISH  POETS.  179 

IMITATIONS   OF   ENGLISH   POETS. 

Done  by  the  Author  in  his  Youth. 

[These  Imitations,  of  which  the  precise  date  is  unknown,  besides  proving  the 
imitative  powers  of  Pope  as  a  boy  show  him  to  have  been  even  at  that  period  of  his 
Hfe  the  most  facile  of  versifiers.  There  is  considerable  humour,  and  unfortunately 
not  a  little  pruriency,  in  some  of  these  productions.  The  imitation  of  Spenser,  while 
hitting  a  blot  of  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  deny  the  presence  in  some  passages  of 
the  noblest  of  English  poets,  is  in  spirit  unworthy  of  even  the  most  juvenile  parodist. 
Thomson  who  in  his  Castle  0/  Indolence  considered  that 'the  obsolete  words,  and  a 
simplicity  of  diction  in  some  of  the  lines,  which  borders  on  the  ludicrous,  were  neces- 
sary to  make  the  imitation  more  perfect,'  can  hardly  be  said  either  to  have  honoured 
Spenser's  poetic  name,  or  raised  his  own  by  that  elaborate  attempt  at  a  reverential 
burlesque.  Waller  was  one  of  the  poets  who  exercised  the  greatest  influence  upon 
Pope's  versification  ;  yet  the  imitations  are  hardly  successful,  except  as  to  the  treatment 
of  the  subject  in  the  lines  on  a  Fan.  The  Garden  (Cowley)  is  a  feeble  attempt  to 
reproduce  the  play  of  fancy,  admirable  even  in  its  extravagance,  of  the  most  magnificent 
among  the  poets  of  the  English  Fantastic  School.  Weeping  is  perhaps  slightly  more 
successful  in  this  direction  In  the  remaining  Imitations  Pope  found  both  fairer  and 
easier  game.  Rochester's  triplets  on  Nothing  are  happily  parodied  in  those  on  Silence, 
so  far  as  in  the  first  part  of  the  former  they  anticipated  the  meaningless  sonorousness 
of  reflexions  equal  in  value  to  the  famous 

'  Nought  is  everything,  and  everything  is  nought*  — 
but  they  miss  the  touch  of  genuine  wit  which  redeems  Rochester's  lines  towards  the 
close.  Dorset's  queer  mixture  of  French  frivolity  and  Dutch  coarseness  is  fairly 
reproduced  in  Artemisia  and  Phryne ;  though  an  imitation  at  least  equally  amusing 
exists  from  the  hand  of  Fenton,  who  among  the  styles  of  other  poets  was  so  successful 
in  appropriating  that  of  Pope  himself.  The  Happy  Life  of  a  Country  Parson  is  in 
Swift's  best  vein,  and  might  be  easily  mistaken  for  some  of  the  Dean's  own  verse, 
differing  from  prose  solely  by  the  quality  of  being  the  best  and  easiest  Enghsh  verse 
ever  written.] 


CHAUCER.i 

WOMEN  ben  full  of  Ragerie, 
Yet  swinken  not  sans  secresie. 
Thilke  Moral  shall  ye  understond, 
From  Schoole-boy's  Tale  of  fayre  Irelond : 
Which  to  the  Fennes  hath  him  betake,  5 

To  filch  the  gray  Ducke  fro  the  Lake. 
Right  then,  there  passen  by  the  Way 
His  Aunt,  and  eke  her  Daughters  tway. 
Ducke  in  his  Trowses  hath  he  hent, 

Not  to  be  spid  of  Ladies  gent.  10 

"  But  ho!  our  Nephew,"  (crieth  one) 

1  [Geoffry  Chaucer,  born  in  1328  died  in  1400.  metre  adopted  by  Pope,  which  is  that  of  Chau- 
The  above  imitates  the  style  of  some  of  the  Ca«-  cer's  earlier  poems,  the  Rotnaunt  of  the  Rose 
terbury  Tales,  of  which  however  none  is  in  the     and  the  House  of  Fame.\ 


i8o  IMITATIONS  OF  ENGLISH  POETS, 

"  Ho!"  quoth  another,  ''  Cozen  John  ;  " 

And  stoppen,  and  lough,  and  callen  out, — 

This  sely  Clerk  full  low  doth  lout : 

They  asken  that,  and  talken  this,  15 

"Lo  here  is  Coz,  and  here  is  Miss." 

But,  as  he  glozeth  with  Speeches  soote, 

The  Ducke  sore  tickleth  his  Erse-roote : 

Fore-piece  and  buttons  all-to-brest. 

Forth  thrust  a  white  neck,  and  red  crest.  20  . 

"  Te-he,"  cry'd  Ladies  ;  Clerke  nought  spake  : 

Miss  star'd :  and  gray  Ducke  crieth  Quake. 

"  O  Moder,  Moder,"  (quoth  the  daughter) 

"  Be  thilke  same  thing  Maids  longer  a'ter? 

Bette  is  to  pyne  on  coals  and  chalke,  25 

Then  trust  on  Mon,  whose  yerde  can  talke." 

II. 

SPENSER.i 


IN  ev'ry  Town,  where  Thamis  rolls  his  Tyde, 
A  narrow  pass  there  is,  with  Houses  low ; 
Where  ever  and  anon,  the  Stream  is  ey'd, 
And  many  a  Boat  soft  sliding  to  and  fro. 
There  oft  are  heard  the  notes  of  Infant  Woe, 
The  short  thick  Sob,  loud  Scream,  and  shriller  Squall : 
How  can  ye.  Mothers,  vex  your  Children  so? 
Some  play,  some  eat,  some  cack  against  the  wall, 
And  as  they  crouch  en  low,  for  bread  and  butter  call. 


And  on  the  broken  pavement,  here  and  there,  10 

Doth  many  a  stinking  sprat  and  herring  lie ; 

A  brandy  and  tobacco  shop  is  near. 

And  hens,  and  dogs,  and  hogs  are  feeding  by ; 

And  here  a  sailor's  jacket  hangs  to  dry. 

At  evVy  door  are  sun-burnt  matrons  seen,  15 

Mending  old  nets  to  catch  the  scaly  fry ; 

Now  singing  shrill,  and  scolding  eft  between ; 

Scolds  answer  foul-mouth'd  scolds  ;  bad  neighbourhood  I  ween. 

III. 

The  snappish  cur,  (the  passengers'  annoy) 

Close  at  my  heel  with  yelping  treble  flies ;  20 

1  [Edmund   Spenser,  born  in  1553,   died  in    ventured  to  parody  some  of  the  inferior  passages, 
1599.     l^xs  Faerie  Queene ,  oi  \i\)i\c}i\  Pope  has    waspublishedininstalmentsfrom  the  year  1590.] 


IMITATIONS  OF  ENGLISH  POETS.  i8i 

The  whimp'ring  girl,  and  hoarser-screaming  boy, 

Join  to  the  yelping  treble  shrilling  cries ; 

The  scolding  Quean  to  louder  notes  doth  rise, 

And  her  full  pipes  those  shrilling  cries  confound ; 

To  her  full  pipes  the  grunting  hog  replies ;  25 

The  grunting  hogs  alarm  the  neighbours  round, 

And  curs,  girls,  boys,  and  scolds,  in  the  deep  bass  are  drown'd. 


IV. 

Hard  by  a  Sty,  beneath  a  roof  of  thatch, 

Dwelt  Obloquy,  who  in  her  early  days 

Baskets  of  fish  at  Billingsgate  did  watch,  30 

Cod,  whiting,  oyster,  mackrel,  sprat,  or  plaice : 

There  learn'd  she  speech  from  tongues  that  never  cease. 

Slander  beside  her,  like  a  Mag-pie,  chatters. 

With  Envy,  (spitting  Cat)  dread  foe  to  peace ; 

Like  a  curs'd  Cur,  Malice  before  her  clatters,  35 

And  vexing  ev'ry  wight,  tears  clothes  and  all  to  tatters. 


V. 

Her  dugs  were  mark'd  by  ev'ry  Collier's  hand, 

Her  mouth  was  black  as  bull-dogs  at  the  stall : 

She  scratched,  bit,  and  spar'd  ne  lace  ne  band, 

And  bitch  and  rogue  her  answer  was  to  all ;  40 

Nay,  e^en  the  parts  of  shame  by  name  would  call :    • 

Yea,  when  she  passed  by  or  lane  or  nook. 

Would  greet  the  man  who  turned  him  to  the  Wall, 

And  by  his  hand  obscene  the  porter  took, 

Nor  ever  did  askance  like  modest  Virgin  look.  45 


VI. 

Such  place  hath  Deptford,  navy-building  town, 

Woolwich  and  Wapping  smelling  strong  of  pitch ; 

Such  Lambeth,  envy  of  each  band  and  gown, 

And  Twick'nam  such,  which  fairer  scenes  enrich. 

Grots,  statues,  urns,  and  Jo — n's  ^  Dog  and  Bitch,  50 

Ne  village  is  without,  on  either  side. 

All  up  the  silver  Thames,  or  all  adown  ; 

Ne  Richmond's  self,  from  whose  tall  front  are  ey'd 

Vales,  spires,  meandring  streams,  and  Windsor's  tow'ry  pride. 

J  Old  Mr.  Johnston,  the  retired  Scotch  Secretary  of  State,  who  lived  at  Twickenham.     Car* 
fiithers. 


1 82  IMITATIONS   OF  ENGLISH  POETS. 

III. 

WALLER.i 

Of  a  Lady  singing  to  her  Lute. 

FAIR  Charmer,  cease,  nor  make  your  voice's  prize, 
A  heart  resigiiM,  the  conquest  of  your  eyes  : 
Well  might,  alas!  that  threat'ned^  vessel  fail. 
Which  winds  and  light'ning  both  at  once  assail. 
We  were  too  blest  with  these  enchanting  lays,  5 

Which  must  be  heavenly  when  an  Angel  plays: 
But  killing  charms  your  lover's  death  contrive, 
Lest  heav'nly  music  should  be  heard  alive. 
Orpheus  could  charm  the  trees,  but  thus  a  tree, 
Taught  by  your  hand,  can  charm  no  less  than  he :  10 

A  poet  made  the  silent  wood  pursue. 
This  vocal  wood  had  drawn  the  Poet  too. 

On  a  Fan  of  the  Author's  Design,  in  which  was  painted  the 
Story  of  Cephalus  and  Procris,  with  the  Motto,  Aura  Veni. 

"  /"^OME  gentle  Air! "  th'  JEoXmn  shepherd  said, 

V^.  While  Procris  panted  in  the  secret  shade : 
"  Come,  gentle  Air,"  the  fairer  Delia  cries. 
While  at  her  feet  her  swain  expiring  lies. 

Lo  the  glad  gales  o'er  all  her  beauties  stray,  5 

Breathe  on  her  lips,  and  in  her  bosom  play! 
In  Delia's  hand  this  toy  is  fatal  found. 
Nor  could  that  fabled  dart  more  surely  wound : 
Both  gifts  destructive  to  the  givers  prove ; 
Alike  both  lovers  fall  by  those  they  love.  lo 

Yet  guiltless  too  this  bright  destroyer  lives, 
At  random  wounds,  nor  knows  the  wound  she  gives : 
She  views  the  story  with  attentive  eyes. 
And  pities  Procris,  while  her  lover  dies. 

IV. 
C0WLEY.8 

The  Garden. 

j*AIN  would  my  Muse  the  flow'ry  Treasures  sing, 
And  humble  glories  of  the  youthful  Spring ; 
Where  opening  Roses  breathing  sweets  diffuse, 

*  [Edmund  Waller,  born  In  1605,  died  in  1687,  2  ^\  p,-efer  placing  the  apostrophe  as  above, 

He  has  written  innumerable  pieces,  in  which  the  since  Waller  was  in  the  habit  of  sounding  the  e 

complimentary  element  overpowers  the  erotic,  in  the  pret.  and  part,  ending.] 

and  which  may  have  suggested  these  imitative  3  [Abraham  Cowley  was  born   in   1618   and 

attempts.]  lived  till  1667.     His  Pindaric  Odes  constitute 


F 


CA^'^^ 


IMITATIONS   OF  EATGLISH  POETS,  183 

And  soft  Carnations  show'r  their  balmy  dews ; 

Where  LiHes  smile  in  virgin  robes  of  white,  5 

The  thin  Undress  of  superficial  Light, 

And  varyM  Tulips  show  so  dazzling  gay, 

Blushing  in  bright  diversities  of  day. 

Each  painted  flow'ret  in  the  lake  below 

Surveys  its  beauties,  whence  its  beauties  grow ;  10 

And  pale  Narcissus  on  the  bank,  in  vain 

Transformed,  gazes  on  himself  again. 

Here  aged  trees  Cathedral  Walks  compose, 

And  mount  the  fiill  in  venerable  rows : 

There  the  green  Infants  in  their  beds  are  laid,  15 

The  Garden's  Hope  and  its  expected  shade. 

Here  Orange-trees  with  blooms  and  pendants  shine, 

And  vernal  honours  to  their  autumn  join  ; 

Exceed  their  promise  in  the  ripen'd  store, 

Yet  in  the  rising  blossom  promise  more.  20 

There  in  bright  drops  the  crystal  Fountains  play. 

By  Laurels  shielded  from  the  piercing  day ; 

Where  Daphne,  now  a  tree  as  once  a  maid, 

Still  from  Apollo  vindicates  her  shade. 

Still  turns  her  Beauties  from  th'  invading  beam,  25 

Nor  seeks  in  vain  for  succour  to  the  Stream. 

The  stream  at  once  preserves  her  virgin  leaves, 

At  once  a  shelter  from  her  boughs  receives. 

Where  Summer's  beauty  midst  of  Winter  stays. 

And  Winter's  Coolness  spite  of  Summer's  rays.  30 


Weeping. 

WHILE  Celia's  Tears  make  sorrow  bright. 
Proud  Grief  sits  swelling  in  her  eyes  ; 
The  Sun,  next  those  the  fairest  light, 

Thus  from  the  Ocean  first  did  rise : 
And  thus  thro'  Mists  we  see  the  Sun,  5 

Which  else  we  durst  not  gaze  upon. 

These  silver  drops,  like  morning  dew. 

Foretell  the  fervour  of  the  day  : 
So  from  one  Cloud  soft  show'rs  we  view. 

And  blasting  lightnings  burst  away.  10 

The  Stars  that  fall  from  Celia's  eye 
Declare  our  Doom  in  drawing  nigh. 

his  chief  title  to  poetic  fame;  but  his  love  of  Bot-  parodies  fall  short  of  Cowley's  ordinary  mannei 

any  to  whicti  The  Garden  alludes,  is  specially  in  variety  and  vigour,  as  well  as  in  extrava* 

exemplified  in  his  Latin  poem,  in  six  books,  of  gance.] 
Plants.     The  conceits  in  the  second   of  these 


1 84  IMITATIONS  OF  ENGLISH  POETS, 

The  Baby  in  that  sunny  Sphere 

So  like  a  Phaethon  appears, 
That  heaven,  the  threaten'd  World  to  spare,  15 

Thought  fit  to  drown  him  in  her  tears : 
Else  might  th'  ambitious  Nymph  aspire, 
To  set,  like  him,  Heav'n  too  on  fire. 

V. 

E.   OF  ROCHESTER.! 
On  Silence. 


SILENCE!  coeval  with  Eternity ; 
Thou  wert,  ere  Nature's-self  began  to  be, 
'Twas  one  vast  Nothing,  all,  and  all  slept  fast  in  thee. 


Thine  was  the  sway,  ere  heav'n  was  formed,  or  earth, 
Ere  fruitful  Thought  conceiv'd  creation's  birth. 
Or  midwife  Word  gave  aid,  and  spoke  the  infant  forth. 


Then  various  elements,  against  thee  join'd, 
In  one  more  various  animal  combined. 
And  framed  the  clam'rous  race  of  busy  Human-kind. 

IV. 

The  tongue  mov'd  gently  first,  and  speech  was  low,  10 

'Till  wrangling  Science  taught  it  noise  and  show, 
And  wicked  Wit  arose,  thy  most  abusive  foe. 


But  rebel  Wit  deserts  thee  oft'  in  vain ; 
Lost  in  the  maze  of  words  he  turns  again. 
And  seeks  a  surer  state,  and  courts  thy  gentle  reign.  15 

^  [John  Wilmot  Earl   of  Rochester,  born  at  \.x\\>i\'i,'\vi\-^\\A^ri\.  Trial  of  the  Poets  for  the  Bays  ^ 

Ditchley  near   Woodstock    in   Oxfordshire,   in  imitated  from  Boileau.     Thcy^xs^s  on  Nothing, 

1647,  came  to  court  in  his  eighteenth  year,  and  parodied  by  Pope,  are  said  to  have  been  due  in 

was  soon  admitted  into  the  closest  familiarity  part  to  George  Villiers  Duke  of  Buckingham, 

with  the  Merry  Monarch.    He  behaved  gallantly  See  Horace  Walpole's  account  of  Rochester's 

during  a  naval  campaign  in  which  he  took  part  writings,   prefixed   to   the    narrative    in   which 

in  1665,  and  after  his  return  to  court  became  a  bishop  Burnet  unctuously  recounts  his  conver- 

kind  of  coarse  Alcibiades  of  his  age.     His  poems  sion  of  so  unpromising  a  subject  on  the  eve  of 

have  little  wit  and  much  effrontery  —  perhaps  death  (1680)  .J 
the  best  specimen  of  either  quality  will  be  found 


IMITATIONS   OF  ENGLISH  POETS.  185 


Afflicted  Sense  thou  kindly  dost  set  free, 
Oppress'd  with  argumental  tyranny, 
And  routed  Reason  finds  a  safe  retreat  in  thee. 


With  thee  in  private  modest  Dulness  lies, 
And  in  thy  bosom  lurks  in  Thought's  disguise ;  20 

Thou  varnisher  of  Fools,  and  cheat  of  all  the  Wisel 

VIII. 

Yet  thy  indulgence  is  by  both  confest : 
Folly  by  thee  lies  sleeping  in  the  breast, 
And  't  is  in  thee  at  last  that  Wisdom  seeks  for  rest. 

IX. 

Silence  the  knave's  repute,  the  whore's  good  name,  25 

The  only  honour  of  the  wishing  dame  ; 
Thy  very  want  of  tongue  makes  thee  a  kind  of  Fame. 


But  could'st  thou  seize  some  tongues  that  now  are  free. 
How  Church  and  State  should  be  oblig'd  to  thee! 
At  Senate,  and  at  Bar,  how  welcome  would'st  thou  be!  30 

XI. 

Yet  speech  ev'n  there,  submissively  withdraws, 
From  rights  of  subjects,  and  the  poor  man's  cause : 
Then  pompous  Silence  reigns,  and  still  the  noisy  Laws. 

XII. 

Past  services  of  friends,  good  deeds  of  foes, 
What  Fav'rites  gain,  and  what  the  Nation  owes,  35 

Fly  the  forgetful  world,  and  in  thy  arms  repose. 

XIII. 

The  country  wit,  religion  of  the  town. 
The  courtier's  learning,  policy  o'  th'  gown. 
Are  best  by  thee  express'd  ;  and  shine  in  thee  alone. 

XIV. 

The  parson's  cant,  the  lawyer's  sophistry,  40 

Lord's  quibble,  critic's  jest ;  all  end  in  thee. 
All  rest  in  peace  at  last,  and  sleep  eternnlly. 


1 86  IMITAJJONS  OF  ENGLISH  FOETS. 

VI. 

E.  OF   DORSET.i 
Artemisia. 

THO'  Artemisia  talks,  by  fits, 
Of  councils,  classics,  fathers,  wits  ; 
Reads  Malbranche,  Boyle,  and  Locke : 
Yet  in  some  things  methinks  she  fails, 
'T  were  well  if  she  would  pare  her  nails,  5 

And  wear  a  cleaner  smock. 

Haughty  and  huge  as  High-Dutch  bride, 
Such  nastiness,  and  so  much  pride 

Are  oddly  join'd  by  fate  : 
On  her  large  squab  you  find  her  spread,  lo 

Like  a  fat  corpse  upon  a  bed. 

That  lies  and  stinks  in  state. 

She  wears  no  colours  (sign  of  grace) 
On  any  part  except  her  face ; 

All  white  and  black  beside  :  15 

Dauntless  her  look,  her  gesture  proud. 
Her  voice  theatrically  loud. 

And  masculine  her  stride. 

So  have  I  seen,  in  black  and  white 

A  prating  thing,  a  Magpye  hight,  20 

Majestically  stalk ; 
A  stately,  worthless  animal, 
That  plies  the  tongue,  and  wags  the  tail, 

All  flutter,  pride,  and  talk. 

Phryne. 

PHRYNE  had  talents  for  mankind. 
Open  she  was,  and  unconfin'd, 
Like  some  free  port  of  trade  : 
Merchants  unloaded  here  their  freight, 
And  Agents  from  each  foreign  state,  5 

Here  first  their  entry  made. 

Her  learning  and  good  breeding  such. 
Whether  th'  Italian  or  the  Dutch, 

Spaniards  or  French  came  to  her : 

1  [Charles  Sackville  Earl  of  Dorset  was  born  Dutch   admiral  Opdam's  vessel,  composed  his 

in   1637,  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  illustrious  famous  ballad  To  all  you  Ladies  now  at  land. 

author  of  the    Mirror  for  Magistrates   and  He  afterwards  became  a  favourite  courtier  of 

Gorboduc.     He  took  part  in   the   Dutch  war  King  William  III.  and  died  in  1706.     See  Epi- 

under  the  Duke  of  York,  and  before  the  engage-  taph,  No.  i.  in/raJ] 
ment  which  ended   in  the  blowing   up  of  the 


IMITATIONS  OF  ENGLISH  POETS.  187 

To  all  obliging  she'd  appear :  lo 

'T  was  Si  Sigfiior,  't  was  Vaw  Mynheer, 
'T  was  S''il  vous  plaist^  Monsieur, 

Obscure  by  birth,  renowned  by  crimes, 
Still  changing  names,  religions,  climes, 

At  length  she  turns  a  Bride  :  15 

In  diamonds,  pearls,  and  rich  brocades, 
She  shines  the  first  of  batter'd  jades, 

And  flutters  in  her  pride. 

So  have  I  known  those  Insects  fair 

(Which  curious  Germans  hold  so  rare)  20 

Still  vary  shapes  and  dyes ; 
Still  gain  new  Titles  with  new  forms ; 
First  grubs  obscene,  then  wriggling  worms, 

Then  painted  butterflies. 


VII. 
DR.   SWIFT. 

The  Happy  Life  of  a  Country  Parson. 

PARSON,  these  things  in  thy  possessing 
Are  better  than  the  Bishop's  blessing. 
A  Wife  that  makes  conserves ;  a  Steed 
That  carries  double  when  there 's  need : 
October  store,  and  best  Virginia,  5 

Tithe-Pig,  and  mortuary  Guinea : 
Gazettes  sent  gratis  down,  and  frank'd, 
For  which  thy  Patron's  weekly  thank'd : 
A  large  Concordance,  bound  long  since : 
Sermons  to  Charles  the  First,  when  Prince ;  lo 

A  Chronicle  of  ancient  standing ; 
A  Chrysostom  to  smooth  thy  band  in. 
The  Polyglot  —  three  parts,  —  my  text, 
Howbeit,  —  likewise  —  now  to  my  next. 
Lo  here  the  Septuagint,  —  and  Paul,  15 

To  sum  the  whole,  —  the  close  of  all. 

He  that  has  these,  may  pass  his  life, 
Drink  with  the  'Squire,  and  kiss  his  wife ; 
On  Sundays  preach,  and  eat  his  fill ; 

And  fast  on  Fridays  —  if  he  will ;  20 

Toast  Church  and  Queen,  explain  the  News, 
Talk  with  Church-Wardens  about  Pews, 
Pray  heartily  for  some  new  Gift, 
And  shake  his  head  at  Doctor  S — t. 


MORAL   ESSAYS. 

[It  may  be  well  to  preface  such  introductory  remarks  as  appear  called  for  by 
the  series  of  poems  comprehended  by  Warburton  under  the  general  title  of  Moral 
Essays^  by  a  statement  of  the  chronological  order  in  which  they  were  originally 
given  to  the  world.  It  will  thus  be  seen  at  a  glance,  that  their  present  arrange- 
ment was  due  solely  to  the  editorial  ingenuity  of  Pope's  friend  and  commentator, 
to  whose  suggestions,  as  he  informs  us,  the  poet  readily  agreed. 

The  5th  Epistle  of  the  Moral  Essays  (to  Addison)  was  written  in  171 5,  and 
first  published,  with  the  lines  on  Craggs  added,  in  Tickell's  edition  of  Addison's 
Works  in  1 720.  The  4th  Epistle  of  the  Moral  Essays  (to  the  Earl  of  Burlington) 
was  published  in  1731,  under  the  title  Of  Taste^  subsequently  altered  to  Of  False 
Taste,  and  ultimately  to  Of  the  Use  of  Riches.  The  3rd  Epistle  ( Of  the  Use  of 
Riches^  to  Lord  Bathurst)  followed  in  1732.  In  the  same  year  appeared  the  first 
two  Epistles  of  the  Essay  on  Man,  the  third  succeeding  in  1733.  In  this  ye&  also 
came  out  the  Epistle  On  the  Knowledge  and  Characters  of  Men,  addressed  to  Lord 
Cobham,  now  the  first  of  the  Moral  Essays.  The  4th  Epistle  of  the  Essay  on  Man 
was  published  in  1734,  when  the  whole  Essay  on  Man  was  also  brought  out  in  its 
present  form.  The  Epistle  (now  the  2nd  of  the  Moral  Essays)  to  a  Lady,  On  the 
Characters  of  Women,  appeared  in  1735 ;  and  finally  the  Universal  Prayer,  which 
now  appropriately  follows  the  Essay  on  Man.,  was  not  published  till  the  year  1738. 
Pope  died  before  the  entire  series  had  been  published  in  its  present  order  in  the 
complete  edition  of  his  works.  • 

From  Pope's  own  statement  with  regard  to  the  design  of  his  work,  repeated 
in  various  passages  of  his  correspondence,  it  is  certain  that  what  he  actually  wrote 
only  formed  part  of  a  great  scheme  which  he  had  long  carried  about  either  on 
paper,  or  in  his  mind;  but  which  he  never  accomplished  in  its  fulness.  So  much 
it  is  impossible  to  doubt,  without  in  the  least  degree  falling  in  with  the  belief 
that  the  system  as  developed  at  length  by  Warburton,  who  in  his  Commentary., 
became  a  kind  of  moral  sponsor  to  the  Essay  on  Man,  was  ever  clearly  in  Pope's 
head.  Warburton  states  that  the  Essay  was  intended  to  have  been  comprised  in 
four  books  :  the  first  (which  we  have  in  the  four  Epistles  bearing  the  general  title) 
treating  of  man  in  the  abstract  and  considering  him  under  all  his  relations;  tlue- 
second  taklrLpLnp  tViF  <;nhjprt  Qf  Ep.  T.  and  TT,  of  .the  fiist,  and  treating  of  man  in 
his  intp11<^^«-vial  (^Hipar^^Y  ^^  If^^t?^  [^  this  a  part  might  be  found  in  Bk.  I"^L,of  the 
Dunciad)',  the  third  resuming  the  subjecFoT  Ep.  III. "of  the"  first,  and  discussing 
Man  in  his  social,  political  and'Yetrgioiis  capacity  (which  Pope  afterwards  thought 
might  best  be^done  in  the  form  of  an_Epi^j)gem).;.,JJie,faurth  pursuing  the  subject 
of  Ep.  IV.  of  the  £rsVa«<lir£atiiigi  of  ^actLcal  morality.  Q£  this  f^rth  and  last 
book,  he  continues,  the  epistles,  bearing  the  title  of  MojjiL ^ssay^Sr^ere  detached 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  1S9 

pOEti^s,  the  two  first  {on  the  Characters  of  Men  and  Women)  forming  its  in- 
trodiiotory'^^ET?^''  ""     "      ' — 

In  a^ny^case,  therefore,  and  even  supposing  the  above  scheme  to  have  been 
Pope's  own,  the  four  Epistles  which  bear  the  title  of  the  Essay  on  Man  claim 
to  be  regarded  as  complete  in  themselves.  The  system  which  the  Essay  on  Man 
(to  restrict  the  application  of  that  title  in  the  remainder  of  these  remarks  to 
those  four  Epistles)  developes,  or  purports  to  develope,  was  explained  at  great 
length  in  Warburton's  Commentary.  Pope's  own  words  (in  a  letter  to  Warburton 
of  April  II,  1739)  are  sufficient  to  shew  the  relation  between  the  work  and  the 
exegesis;  'You  have  made  my  system  as  clear  as  I  ought  to  have  done  and  could 
not.  It  is  indeed  the  same  system  as  mine,  but  illustrated  with  a  ray  of  your  own, 
as  they  say  our-  natural  body  is  still  the  same  when  glorified.  I  am  sure  I  like  it 
better  than  I  did  before,  and  so  will  every  man  else.  I  know  I  meant  just  what 
you  explain,  but  I  did  not  explain  my  meaning  so  well  as  you.  You  understand 
me  as  well  as  I  do  myself,  but  you  express  me  better  than  I  could  express  myself. 
Pray  accept  the  sincerest  acknowledgments.'  It  therefore  becomes  necessary  to 
enquire  in  the  first  place,  what  is  the  system  which  the  Essay  on  Man  actually 
places  before  us;  and  secondly,  from  what  sources  the  poet  derived  the  philosophy 
which  he  has  endeavoured  to  express.  The  following  brief  summary,  founded 
chiefly  on  Aikin's  Introduction,  may  supply  an  answer  to  the  former  question. 

The  first  Epistle  is  especially  occupied  with  Man,  with  respect  to  the  place 
which  he  holds  in  the  system  of  the  Universe;  and  the  principal  topic  is  the 
refutation  of  all  objections  against  the  wisdom  and  benevolence  of  the  Providence 
which  placed  man  here,  objections  derived  from  the  weakness  and  imperfection 
of  his  nature.  The  first  principle  of  philosophical  enquiry  is  reasoning  from  what 
we  know  to  what  we  do  not  know.  But  if  we  are  to  inform  ourselves  as  to 
man's  place  in  the  universe,  we  are  hampered  by  our  ignorance  of  the  latter  itself, 
of  which  we  know  only  a  small  part,  viz.  our  own  earth.  Observation,  however, 
teacHes  that  the  Universe  contains  a  scale  of  beings,  rising  in  due  gradation  one 
above  the  other,  and  each  endowed  with  the  faculties  necessary  for  its  station. 
Those,  who  in  their  imperfect  knowledge  are  fain  to  interfere  with  that  scale, 
presumptuously  demand  to  re-settle  the  Order  of  Heaven.  It  is  this  Pride  which 
surveys  the  system  of  the  Universe  solely  from  its  own  point  of  view,  assuming 
everything  to  exist  for  the  benefit  of  the  individual  as  he  conceives  it.  Man 
cannot  read  the  riddles  of  Providence;  he  must  therefore  accept  the  double  truth 
that  the  Universe  and  all  its  several  parts  constitute  a  divine  and  perfect  Order,  but 
that  this  order  is  not  visible  or  recognisable  in  its  perfection  to  imperfect  man.  The 
second  Epistle  proceeds  to  lead  up  to  the  special  truth  illustrating  the  general  truth 
enunciated  by  its  predecessor,  viz.  that  even  in  the  passions  and  imperfections  of 
man,  the  ends  of  Providence  and  its  scheme  of  universal  good  are  fulfilled.  (It  is 
this  special  part  of  the  scheme  of  the  Universe  which  man  is  qualified  to  study; 
God  he  may  not  scan.)  In  human  nature,  two  principles  contend  for  mastery: 
self-love,  which  stimulates,  and  reason,  which  restrains.  In  both,  although  to  us 
the  one  appears  evil  and  the  other  good,  the  scheme  of  Creation  is  working  out 
its  beneficent  ends.  The  //^^>^  Epistle  once  more  resumes  the  general  proposi- 
tion of  which  the  second  presented  us  with  a  special  application,  and  insists  that 


I90  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

the  end  of  divine  government  is  the  production  of  general  good,  although  by  means 
of  which  we  are  not  always  able  to  distinguish  the  correlation.  The  main  argu- 
ment of  this  Epistle  tends  to  illustrate  this,  by  proving  that  in  the  divine  scheme 
self-love  and  social  work  to  the  same  end.  T\\t  fow^k  Epistle  offers,  so  to  speak, 
the  practical  ..application  of  the  fundamental  idea  of  the  entire  Essay.  The 
scheme  of  the  Universe  being  perfect,  is  of  course  designed  fox.  .the  happiness 
of  all;  all  happiness  therefore  is  general,  and  all  particular  happiness  depends 
on  gener^^^  It  is  therefore  necessary,  in  order  to  estimate  the  happiness  of  the 
individual  at  its  trUTs  value,  to  estimate  it,  not  according  as  it  is  felt  by  the  indi- 
vidual, but  as  it  finds  ijs  place  in  the  general  system.  AllTnen  are  equallyjiappy 
who  r^ogiiTse  the  Order  which  assigns  to  them  their  place;  and  GcTd  has  given 
to  all  that  happiness  which  springs-from  taking  the  right  means  towards  attaining 
to  it.  Thus  the  poem  at  its  close  recur^Jto  its-fundamental  idea  of  the  benevolent 
system  of  the  Uni¥erse;rtrrwhichevery  virtue,  as  well  as  every  passion,  has  its 
object  and  end.  ^ 

If  the  above  fairly  represent  the  outline  of  the  argument  of  this  celebrated 
essay,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  add  only  a  very  few  words,  in  order  to  shew  where  it 
halts.  The  optimistic  conclusion  of  the  first  Epistle  cannot  be  said  to  be  logically 
drawn  from  its  premises.  The  presumptuousness  of  attempting  to  judge  the  sys- 
tem of  the  Universe  from  the  peculiar  point  of  view  of  Man,  is  incontestably  de- 
monstrated; but  the  perfection  of  the  entire  system  is  merely  generalised  out  of  a 
few  phenomena,  which  man  may  misjudge  as  utterly  as,  according  to  the  poet,  he 
misjudges  extraordinary  occurrences  which  seem  evils  to  him.  And  from  an  ethical 
point  of  view,  the  result,  if  logically  followed  out,  is  pure  fatalism;  and  man, 
as  completely  as  every  other  organic  part  of  creation,  reduced  to  a  puppet.  To 
avert  this  conclusion.  Pope  in  the  Universal  Prayer  addresses  Providence  as  bind- 
ing nature,  i.  e.  the  rest  of  nature,  fast  in  fate,  but  leaving  the  human  will  free ! 
With  regard  to  the  application  of  the  general  proposition  to  the  special  case  of 
human  nature  in  the  second  Epistle,  it  is  obvious  that  the  distinction  drawn  be- 
tween self-love  and  reason,  is  wholly  illogical;  inasmuch  as  reason,  being  a  power 
of  the  mind,  may  be  employed  by  self-love  for  its  own  purposes,  so  that,  as  has 
been  well  pointed  out,  it  depends  upon  the  use  of  reason,  not  upon  the  direction 
given  to  self-love,  what  tendency  the  moral  being  of  man  will  assume.  The  third 
Epistle,  resuming  the  argument  of  the  first,  lands  us  in  the  same  result.  The 
theory  that  self-love  and  social  are  the  same,  amounts  to  nothing  short  of  this : 
that  civilisation  is  only  the  product  of  man's  instinct  of  self-defence  and  self- 
advancement,  that  the  institutions  of  society  are  merely  means  adopted  for  satis- 
fying in  the  most  convenient  manner  the  necessities  of  the  individual;  and  that 
men  are  therefore,  like  Mandeville's  bees,  only  being  guided  by  another  power 
to  co-operate  in  a  system  of  which  they  unconsciously  form  part.  This  view, 
which  since  Pope's  day  has  reappeared  in  many  forms,  may  be  true  or  false; 
it  is  certain  that  it  is  not  the  view  which  Pope  designed  to  enforce. 

The  truth  is,  that  Pope  endeavoured  to  develope  a  moral  system  which  (whether 
perfect  or  imperfect  in  itself)  was  at  all  events  imperfectly  understood  by  him. 
The  Essay  on  Man,  even  if  the  anecdote  be  untrustworthy  according  to  which 
its  scheme  was  originally  drawn  up  in  writing  by  Bolingbroke,  was  undoubtedly 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  19: 

due,  if  not  to  the  suggestion,  at  all  events  to  the  influence  and  conversation,  of 
that  nobleman  upon  Pope's  receptive  mind.  The  philosophic  stamina  of  the 
Essay,  to  use  Johnson's  expression,  belonged  to  Bolingbroke;  and  it  was  only  with 
regard  to  the  execution  that  the  latter  could  have  expressed  to  Swift  (letter  of 
November  19,  1729)  that  the  work,  'in  Pope's  hands,  would  be  an  original.' 
Bolingbroke's  most  recent  biographer,  Mr.  Macknight,  has  therefore  not  said  too 
much  when  he  avers :  '  There  is  no  doubt  whatever,  but  that  Pope  received 
from  BoHngbroke  the  leading  principles  of  his  Essay  on  Man.  Pope,  indeed, 
acknowledges  his  obligations  in  the  fullest  sense  at  the  beginning  of  the  first,  and 
the  end  of  the  fourth  Book;  and,  notwithstanding  Warburton's  defence,  the  Essay 
071  Man  and  the  principles  of  Bolingbroke  must  be  considered  one  and  the  same, 
though  they  are  less  openly  expressed  in  the  poem,  and  disguised  with  poetical 
ornament.  It  is  impossible  to  find  in  any  couplet  any  acknowledgment  of  revealed 
religion ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  all  that  admiration  of  nature,  of  looking  upward 
through  nature  to  nature's  God,  which  wa?  Bolingbroke's  main  tenet.  .  .  .  The 
tendency '  [of  the  leading  sentiments  of  the  Essay\^ so  far  as  they  have  a  tendency, 
is  undoubtedly  to  that  blind  fatalism  and  naturalism,  which  Bolingbroke  called 
pure  theism.  His  condemnation  of  metaphysics  really  meant  everything  that  is 
called  theology.' 

Even,  therefore,  if  Pope  (as  had  been  concluded  from  certain  passages  which 
prove  him  to  have  been  acquainted  with  parts  at  least  of  these  works)  had 
read  the  Theodicee  of  Leibnitz,  whose  optimism  is  that  of  the  first  Epistle,  Arch- 
bishop King's  Origin  of  Evil^  and  other  metaphysical  treatises,  it  is  in  the  Essay 
of  Bolingbrolce  that  the  germ  of  Pope's  argument  is  to  be  found.  These  Essays 
(which  their  author  had  not  the  courage  to  publish  before  his  death)  attempt  to 
apply  the  inductive  method  to  that  part  of  philosophy  which  concerns  the  rela- 
tions between  God  and  man;  and,  assuming  that  all  human  knowledge  is  derived 
through  the  medium  of  the  senses,  to  shew  that  it  is  only  from  a  study  of  the 
works  of  God  that  a  knowledge  of  his  character  is  attainable  by  us.  This  is,  in 
one  word,  the  natural  theology  of  Bolingbroke,  which  regards  all  other  theology 
not  only  as  superfluous,  but  as  futile  and  vain. 

Pope,  as  Bolingbroke  on  one  occasion  roundly  said  of  him,  though  in  a  differ- 
ent connexion,  was  *  a  very  great  wit,  and  a  very  indifferent  philosopher.'  The 
consequence  is,  that  although  as  the  development  of  a  doubtful  system  by  one 
who  imperfectly  understood  it,  the  Essay  on  Man  is  without  permanent  value  as 
a  philosophical  treatise,  it  has  many  unquestionable  merits  of  its  own.  Beattie 
(see  Forbes's  Life  of  B.  vol.  I.  p.  120)  appears  to  characterise  it  very  justly  in  de- 
scribing 'its  sentiments'  as  'noble  and  affecting';  'its  images  and  allusions'  as 
'  apposite,  beautiful  and  new';  its  wit  as  '  transcendently  excellent';  but  the 
'  scientific  part '  as  *  very  exceptionable.'  If  the  Essay  on  Man  were  shivered  into 
fragments,  it  would  not  lose  its  value ;  for  it  is  precisely  its  details  which  consti- 
tute its  moral  so  well  as  literary  beauties.  Nowhere  has  Pope  so  abundantly  dis- 
played his  incomparable  talent  of  elevating  truisms  into  proverbs,  in  his  mastery 
over  language  and  poetic  form.  It  is  particularly  in  the  fourth  Epistle,  where 
the  poet  undertakes  to  prove  the  incontestable  truth  that  all  men  may  be  happy, 
if  they  will  take  the  right  road  to  happiness,  that  he  is  thoroughly  in  his  element; 


r^i  ESSAY  OAT  MAN. 

and  demonstrates  so  palpable  a  truism  by  a  brilliant  series  of  arguments  and  illus- 
trations which  beguile  the  reader  into  a  belief  that  he  needed  to  be  convinced. 

The  Moral  Essays,  which  at  Warburton's  suggestion  were  pressed  into  the 
service  of  the  general  scheme,  appear  to  explain  themselves.  The  idea  of  the 
Master-Passion,  which  swallows  all  the  rest  {Essay  on  Man,  ii.  131),  if  carried 
to  its  logical  consequences,  results,  as  Johnson  points  out,  in  a  kind  of  moral 
predestination;  if  taken  cum  grano,  is  sufficiently  trite  and  commonplace.  As 
illustrated  by  the  first  and  second  of  these  Epistles,  it  resembles  that  which 
■suggested  the  title  and  subject  of  Young's  Universal  Passion.  Young,  however, 
treats  the  Love  of  Fame  as  the  Universal  Passion  in  either  sex.  The  third  and 
fourth  are  on  a  subject  familiar  to  all  satirists,  ancient  and  modern  :  the  fifth  is 
■only  perforce  included  in  the  series,  although  it  may,  in  the  place  which  it  occupies, 
be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  corollary  to  the  fourth,  as  Warburton  desired.  ] 


AN    ESSAY    ON   MAN. 

TO 

H.    ST.   JOHN   LORD    BOLINGBROKE.i 

THE   DESIGN. 

Having  proposed  to  write  some  pieces  on  Human  Life  and  Manners,  such  as  (to 
use  my  Lord  Bacon's  expression  2)  come  home  to  Metis  Business  and  Bosoms^  I  thought 
it  more  satisfactory  to  begin  with  considering  Man  in  the  abstract,  his  Nature  and  his 

1  [Henry  St.  John,  afterwards  Viscount  Bol-  lowed  Harley  out  of  office  in  1708.     Though  he 

ingbroke,  was  born  about  the  year  1678.     Edu-  had,  according  to  his  avowal,  done  for  ever  with 

Gated  at  Eton  and  Christ  Church,  he  commenced  politics  and  ambition,  he  returned  into  office  as 

a  life  of  dissipation  in  the  metropolis  towards  the  Secretary  of  State,  when  the  famous  intrigue  of 

close  of  the  century,  manifesting  however  liter-  1710  brought  the  Tories  into  power.     It  was  this 

ary  tastes  by  poetical  productions,  which  neither  ministry  which  resolved  upon  the  termination  of 

Swift  nor  Pope  could  ever  bring  themselves  to  the  war  with  France;    and  the  famous  Exam- 

praise.     In  1701  he  took  his  seat  in  Parliament,  iner  contained  no  bitterer  and  more  effective  on- 

as  member  for  the  family  borough  of  Wootton  slaughts  upon  Marlborough,  than  those  written 

Bassett,  which  he  afterwards  exchanged  for  the  by  his  former  protege  St.  John.     He  was  at  this 

family  county  of  Wilts.     In  politics,  he  at  once  time  on  intimate  terms  with  Prior  and  Swift,  with 

became   a    Tory  of  the   Tories,  and    a   High  whom  he  founded  the  Brothers' Club;  but  at  the 

Churchman    of   the    High    Churchmen;     soon  same  time  this  literary  minister  was  one  of  the 

raising  himself  by  the  fire  of  his  oratory,  the  most    determined   enemies    of    the    freedom   of 

bitterness  of  his  sarcasm,  and  the  cruel  unscrup-  the  press,  and  the  author  of  the  Stamp  Act,  from 

ulousness  of  his  invective,  to   a  distinguished  which,  in  the  end,  as  might  have  been  expected, 

position.      Such   different  judges  as  Pitt    and  the  Tory  publications   suffered  more   than  the 

Brougham    agree  in  concluding  him   to  have  Whig.     In  1712,  he  was  created  Viscount  Bol- 

heen   one  of  the   most  consummate  orators  of  ingbroke  and  Baron  St.  John ;  and  his  rivalry 

any  age.     In  1704  he  became  Secretary-at-war  with  Harley  (now  Earl  of  Oxford)  was  fast  ris- 

in  the  so-called  Compromise  ministry,  and  fol-  ing  into  open  enmity.     They  held  out  together 

2  [See  Bacon's  Dedication  of  his  Essays  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham.] 


ESSAY  ON  MAN. 


193 


State  ;  since,  to  prove  any  moral  duty,  to  enforce  any  moral  precept,  or  to  examine  the 
perfection  or  imperfection  of  any  creature  whatsoever,  it  is  necessary  first  to  know  what 
condition  and  relation  it  is  placed  in,  and  what  is  the  proper  end  and  purpose  of  its 
being. 

The  science  of  Human  Nature  is,  like  all  other  sciences,  reduced  to  a  few  clear 
points  :  There  are  not  many  certain  truths  in  this  world.  It  is  therefore  in  the  Anatomy 
of  the  mind  as  in  that  of  the  Body ;  more  good  will  accrue  to  mankind  by  attending  to 
the  large,  open,  and  perceptible  parts,  than  by  studying  too  much  such  finer  nerves  and 
vessels,  the  conformations  and  uses  of  which  will  for  ever  escape  our  observation.  The 
disputes  are  all  upon  these  last,  and,  I  will  venture  to  say,  they  have  less  sharpened  the 
wits  than  the  hearts  of  men  against  each  other,  and  have  diminished  the  practice,  more 
than  advanced  the  theory  of  Morality.  If  I  could  flatter  myself  that  this  Essay  has  any 
merit,  it  is  in  steering  betwixt  the  extremes  of  doctrines  seemingly  opposite,  in  passing 
over  terms  utterly  unintelligible,  and  in  forming  a  temperate  yet  not  inconsistent,  and  a 
short  yet  not  imperfect  system  of  Ethics. 

This  I  might  have  done  in  prose,  but  I  chose  verse,  and  even  rhyme,  for  two  reasons. 
The  one  will  appear  obvious;  that  principles,  maxims,  or  precepts  so  written,  both 
strike  the  reader  more  strongly  at  first,  and  are  more  easily  retained  by  him  afterwards  : 
The  other  may  seem  odd,  but  is  true,  I  found  I  could  express  them  more  shortly  this 
way  than  in  prose  itself;  and  nothing  is  more  certain,  than  that  much  of  the  force  sls 
well  as  grace  of  arguments  or  instructions,  depends  on  their  conciseness.  1  was  unable 
to  treat  this  part  of  my  subject  more  in  detail,  without  becoming  dry  and  tedious ;  or 
more  poetically,  without  sacrificing  perspicuity  to  ornament,  without  wandring  from  the 
precision,  or  breaking  the  chain  of  reasoning :  If  any  man  can  unite  all  these  without 
diminution  of  any  of  them,  I  freely  confess  he  will  compass  a  thing  above  my  capacity. 

What  is  now  published,  is  only  to  be  considered  as  2^  general  Map  of  MAN,  marking 
out  no  more  than  the  greater  parts,  their  extent,  their  limits,  and  their  connection,  and 


long  enough  to  ensure  the  conclusion  of  the 
peace  of  Utrecht  in  1713,  to  further  which  Bol- 
ingbroke  had  in  1712  visited  Paris,  when  he  was 
reported  to  have  had  an  interview  with  the  Pre- 
tender, At  all  events,  it  is  certain  that  with  the 
latter  Bolingbroke  was,  from  1713,  engaged  in 
secret  intrigues:  and  had  involved  himself  so 
deeply,  that  after  the  death  of  Queen  Anne,  a 
prosecution  threatened  him,  from  which  he 
saved  himself  by  flight  to  Paris,  in  March  1715. 
In  his  absence  he  was  attainted  of  treason,  and 
his  name  erased  from  the  roll  of  peers.  Before 
the  attainder,  he  had  accepted  at  the  hands  of 
the  Pretender  the  seals  of  the  Secretary  of  State. 
The  death  of  Louis  XIV.  in  September  put  an 
end  to  the  Pretender's  chances,  and  the  rising 
in  Scotland  with  which  the  year  closed,  was 
undertaken  against  the  express  opinion  of  Bol- 
ingbroke. Scotch,  Irish,  Jesuit  and  female 
intrigues  caused  him  to  be  rejected  by  the  Pre- 
tender; and  he  remained  a  total  exile  from  poli- 
tics till  1725.  In  his  retirement  at  La  Source 
near  Orleans,  he  composed  his  affected  Reflex- 
ions on  Exile,  and  his  celebrated  Letter  to 
Sir  William  Windham  (not  published  till 
1753),  the  latter  an  elaborate  vindication  of  his 
political  conduct.  He  also  occupied  himself 
with  the  philosophical  studies  which  resulted  in 
the  Essays  published  after  his  death  by  Mallet. 
In  1723,  he  obtained  a  pardon,  but  not  a  reversal 
of  his  attainder;  in  1725,  on  his  return  to  Eng- 
O 


land,  he  recovered  his  property  and  was  thus,  to 
use  his  own  expression,  *  two-thirds  restored.' 
During  the  years  from  1725  to  1735,  he  resided 
at  Dawley  near  Uxbridge,  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  Twickenham,  the  abode  of  his 
friend  and  admirer  Pope,  In  the  year  1727  he 
again  commenced  political  writing,  with  the 
hope  of  overthrowing  the  influence  of  Walpole. 
But  the  death  of  George  I.  failing  to  overthrow 
that  minister,  Bolingbroke  continued  his  hope- 
less attacks,  in  the  vain  hope  of  influencing  the 
mind  of  the  heir  to  the  throne  of  George  IL, 
Frederick  prince  of  Wales.  His  letters  on  the 
Spirit  of  Patriotism  and  the  Idea  of  a  Patriot 
King  were  political  bids  concealed  under  the 
pretence  of  a  philosophy  above  parties.  In 
1744,  after  his  father's  death,  he  settled  down 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  his  ancestral 
home  at  Battersea,  where  he  died  in  1751,  con- 
fident that  posterity  would  do  justice  to  his 
memory  when  acquainted  with  the  fulness  of  his 
genius  from  his  posthumous  writings.  Patriot- 
ism and  philosophy  were  ideas  with  which  he 
had  been  wont  to  make  free  throughout  his  life ; 
selfishness,  which  is  consonant  with  neither, 
was  the  motive  of  all  his  actions  and  the  spirit 
which  dictated  all  his  works.  The  national 
instinct  was  sure  enough  to  recognise  his  phi- 
losophy as  dangerous,  and  his  patriotism  as 
rotten.] 


194  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 

leaving  the  particular  to  be  more  fully  delineated  in  the  charts  which  are  to  follow. 
Consequently,  these  Epistles  in  their  progress  (if  I  have  health  and  leisure  to  make  any 
progress)  will  be  less  dry,  and  more  susceptible  of  poetical  ornament.  I  am  here  only 
opening  the  fountains ,  and  clearing  the  passage.  To  deduce  the  rivers,  to  follow  them 
in  their  course,  and  to  observe  their  effects,  may  be  a  task  more  agreeable.     P. 

ARGUMENT  OF  EPISTLE  I. 

Of  the  Nature  and  State  of  Man,  with  respect  to  the  UNIVERSE. 

Of  Man  in  the  abstract.  I.  That  we  can  judge  only  with  regard  to  our  own  system, 
being  ignorant  of  the  relations  of  systems  and  thhigs,  v.  17,  &c.  II.  That  Man  is  not  to 
be  deemed  imperfect,  but  a  Being  suited  to  his  place  and  rank  in  the  creation,  agreeable 
to  the  general  Order  of  things,  and  conformable  to  Ends  and  Relations  to  him  unknown, 
V.  35,  &c.  III.  That  it  is  pa?'tly  upon  his  ignorance  <?/"  future  events,  and  partly  upon 
the  hope  of  a  future  state,  that  all  his  happiness  in  the  present  depends,  v. ']'],  Sec.  IV.  The 
pride  of  aiming  at  more  knowledge,  and  pretending  to  more  Perfection,  the  cause  of  Man's 
error  and  7nisery.  The  impiety  of  putting  hi7?iself  in  the  place  of  God,  and  judging  of 
thefittiess  or  unfitness ,  perfection  or  imperfection,  justice  or  injustice  of  his  dispensations, 

V.  109,  &c.  V.  The  absurdity  of  conceiting  himself  the  final  cause  of  the  creation,  or 
expecting  that  perfection  in  the  moral  world,  which  is  not  in  the  natural,  v.  131,  &c. 

VI.  The  unreasonableness  of  his  complaints  against  Providence,  while  on  the  one  hand 
he  demands  the  Perfections  of  the  Angels,  and  on  the  other  the  bodily  qualifications  of  the 
Brutes  ;  though,  to  possess  any  of  the  sensitive  faculties  in  a  higher  degree,  would  render 
him  miserable,  v.  173,  «&c.  VII.  That  throughout  the  whole  visible  world,  an  universal 
order  a?id  gradation  in  the  sensual  and  mental  faculties  is  observed,  which  causes  a 
subordination  of  creature  to  creature,  and  of  all  creatures  to  Man.  The  gradations  of 
sense,  instinct,  thought,  reflection,  reason  ;  that  Reason  alone  countervails  all  the  other 
faculties,  V.  207.  VIII.  How  much  further  this  order  and  subordination  of  living 
creatures  may  extend,  above  and  below  us ;  were  any  part  of  which  broken,  not  that  part 
c'dy,  but  the  whole  connected  creation  must  be  destroyed,  v.  233.  IX.  The  extravagance, 
madness,  and  pride  of  such  a -desire,  v.  250.  X.  The  consequence  of  all,  the  absolute 
submission  due  to  Providence,  both  as  to  our  present  and  future  state,  v.  281,  &c.  to  the 
eftd. 

EPISTLE   I. 

AWAKE,  my  St.  John!    leave  all  meaner  things 
To  low  ambition,  and  the  pride  of  Kings. 
Let  us  (since  Life  can  little  more  supply 
Than  just  to  look  about  us  and  to  die) 

Expatiate  free  o'er  all  this  scene  of  Man  ;  5 

^fjti^^        A  mio^hty  maze!  but  not  without  a  plan  ;  1 
^^^^"^  \    ^'^     A  Wild,  where  weeds  and  flowVs  promiscuous  shoot ; 

\8/^        Or  Garden,  tempting  with  forbidden  fruit. 
\)^ jg^        Together  let  us  beat  this  ample  field, 
^  "  Try  what  the  open,  what  the  covert  yield ;  lo 

The  latent  tracts,  the  giddy  heights,  explore 
,  Of  all 'who  blindly  creep,  or  sightless  soar ; 
'^L  Eye  Nature's  walks,  shoot  Folly  as  it  fiies,^ 

1  [This  line  originally  read  thus:  *  A  mighty         2  Dryden,   Absalom   and  Achitophel,  part 
maze  of  walks  withottt  a  plan.'    The  emen-     II. :    '  and   shoots   their   treasons   as   they  fly.' 
dation  was  not  superfluous,  since,  as  Dr.  John-     Wakefield. 
son  remarks,  '  if  there  were  no  plan,  it  was  in 
vain  to  describe  or  to  trace  the  maze.'] 


£SSAy  OJV  MAN'.  195 

And  catch  the  Manners  living  as  they  rise ; 

Laugh  where  we  must,  be  candid  where  we  can;  15 

S.  But  vindicate*  the  ways  of  God  to  Man.^ 
'I.    Say  first,  of  God  above,  or  Man  below, 
^^<et        Wliai-  can  we  reason,  but  from  what  we  kn^w  ? 
^1^'  Of  Man,  what  see  we  but  his  station  here, 

From  which  to  reason,  or  to  which  refer?  20 

Thro'  worlds  unnumberd  tho'  the  God  be  known, 

'T  is  ours  to  trace  him  only  in  our  own. 

He,  who  thro'  vast  immensity  can  pierce, 

See  worlds  on  worlds  compose  one  universe, 

Observe  how  system  into  system  runs,  25 

What  other  planets  circle  other  suns. 

What  vary'd  Being  peoples  ev'ry  star, 

May  tell  why  Heav'n  has  made  us  as  we  are. 

But  of  this  frame  the  bearings,  and  the  ties, 

The  strong  connexions,  nice  dependencies,  30 

Gradations  just,  has  thy  pervading  soul 

Look'd  thro'?  or  can  a  part  contain  the  whole ?2 

I ^Jhg^ea.Uchain,  that  draws  all  to  agree, 
And  drawn  supports,  upheld  by  God,  or  thee  ? 
^'  II.    Presumptuous  Man!  the  reason  wouldst  thou  find,  35 

Why  form'd  so  weak,  so  little,  and  so  blind? 
First,  if  thou  canst,  the  harder  reason  guess. 
Why  form'd  no  weaker,  blinder,  and  no  less  ? 
Ask  of  thy  mother  earth,  why  oaks  are  made 
Taller  or  stronger  than  the  weeds  they  shade?  40 

Or  ask  of  yonder  argent  fields  above, 
Why  Jove's  satellites  3  are  less  than  Jove? 

Of  Systems  possible,  if 't  is  confest 
That  Wisdom  infinite  must  form  the  best, 

.  Where_all  must  full  or  not  coherent  be,^  45 

\  -V "      An3~kll  thaSlTsesTrt^e^TnTlue  degree  ; 
^..  -  •"  /Then,~iirtHe~scare  orreas^nmg'lite,  't  is  plain, 
»^^JL*^   Vrhere  must  be,  somewhere,  such  a  rank  as  Man: 
y^v^\   And  all  the  question  (wrangle  e'er  so  long) 

V  -^"^  Is  only  this,  if  God  has  plac'd  him  wrong?  -  50 

.r>f^\-^>w^'  Respecting  Man,  whatever  wrong  we  call, 
-■"^■^         May,  must  be  right,  as  relative  to  all. 

In  human  works,  tho'  labour'd  on  with  pain,^ 
A  thousand  movements  scarce  one  purpose  gain ; 

1  Milton's  phrase,  judiciously  altered,  who  ^  [^  Warton  quotes  tlie  Platonic,  *  The  part  is 

says  Justify  the  ways  of  God  to  Man.     Milton  created  for  the  sake  of  the  whole,  and  not  the 

was  addressing  himself  to  believers, .  .  .  Pope  whole  for  the  sake  of  the  part.'] 

...  to    unbelievers  .  .  .;    he,   therefore,    more  ^  [Satellites  is  here  a  tetrasyllable,  as  in  the 

fitly  employs  the  word   vindicate,  which  con-  original  Latin.] 

veys   the  idea   of  a  confutation  attended  with  *  |^i  g,  where  there  can  be  no  gap,  unless  there 

punishment.     Warburton.  is  to  be  a  want  of  cohesion.] 

[There  is  no  question  of  punishment,  only  ^  Verbatim  from  Bolingbroke,  Fragments  43 

of  a  decisive  and  final  confutation.]  and  63.     Warton. 


196  ESSAY  OAT  MAN". 

In  God's,  one  single  can  its  end  produce ;  55 

Yet  serves  to  second  too  some  other  use. 

So  Man,  who  here  se^jins  principal  alone, 

Perhaps  acts  second  to  some  sphere  unknown, 

Touches  some  wheel,  or  verges  to  some  goal ; 

^T  15^  hut  a.  partjyp  .^^Pex^-a^  not  a  IvJt^}^  6o 

When  the  proud  steed  shall  know  why  Man  restrains 
His  fiery  course,  or  drives  him  o'er  the  plains  : 
When  the  dull  Ox,  why  now  he  breaks  the  clod, 
K^  ^     Is  now  a  victim,  and  now  Egypt's  God  :  ^ 
Vs\.0^         Then  shall  Man's  pride  and  dulness  comprehend  65 

His  actions',  passions',  being's,  use  and  end ; 
Why  doing,  suflf 'ring,  check'd,  impell'd ;  and  why 
This  hour  a  slave,  the  next  a  deity. 

Then  say  not  Man  's  imperfect,  Heav'n  in  fault ; 
Say  rather,  MaiL's_as  perfect  as  he  ought :  70 

His  knowledge  measured  to  his  state  and  place ; 
His  time  a  moment,  and  a  point  his  space. 
If  to  be  perfect  in  a  certain  sphere. 
What  matter,  soon  or  late,  or  here  or  there  ? 
The  blest  to  day  is  as  completely  so,  75 

As  who  began  a  thousand  years  ago. 

III.     Heav'n  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  Fate, 
vV.^^^^V"  A^^  ^^^  ^^  P^S^  prescrib'd,  their  present  state  : 
^ft/^^  ^i'f^rom  brutes  what  men,  from  men  what  spirits  know : 
^  vV'"*''*      Or  who  could  suffer  Being  here  below  1  80 

fThe  lamb  thy  riot  dooms  to  bleed  to-day, 
Had  he  thy  Reason,  would  he  skip  and  play? 
.'  '      Pleas'd  to  the  last,  he  crops  the  flow'ry  food, 

And  licks  the  hand  just  rais'd  to  shed  his  blood. 
Oh  blindness  to  the  future !  kindly  giv'n,  85 

That  each  may  fill  the  circle  mark,'d  by  Heav'n : 
t        /:  Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 
^  ^  "^"(^'^A  hero  perish,  or  a  sparrow  fall,^ 
^.  -f\.,       Atoms  or  systems  into  ruin  hurl'd, 
*^ ^'  And  now  a  bubble  burst,  and  now  a  world.  '  90 

*^  ^  Hope  humbly  then  ;  with  trembling  pinions  soar ; 

y  ,.,.  Wait  the  great  teacher  Death  ;  and  God  adore. 

Jth  '      *   .-  What  future  bliss,  he  gives  not  thee  to  know, 
^>>^^  But  gives  that  Jiope  to  be  thy  blessing  now. 
'^t     Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast :  95 

Man  never  Is^  but  always  To  be  blest :  ^ 
The  soul,  uneasy  and  confin'd  from  home. 
Rests  and  expatiates  in  a  life  to  come. 

Lo,  the  poor  Indian!  whose  untutor'd  mind 

*  [Apis.]  Culex,  the  hero  of  the  poem  formerly  ascribed 

*  After  V.  88  in  the  MS.  to  Vergil.] 

*  No  great,  no  little;  't  is  as  much  decreed  ^  [Johnson's  strange  commentary  on  this  pas- 
That   Virgil's    Gnat    should    die    as    Caesar  sage  has  only  a  biographical  value.     See  Bos- 
bleed.*     Warburton.      [Vergil's    gnat    is    the  well  ad  aim.  1775.] 


\^t.> 


ESSAY  ON  MAN.  197 

Sees  God  in  clouds,  or  hears  him  in  the  wind :  loo 

His  soul,  proud  Science  never  taught  to  stray 
Far  as  the'soTar  walk,  or  milky  way ; 
,  "S^Yet  simple  Nature  to  his  hope  has  giv'n, 
^^^^       Behind  the  cloud-topt  hill,  an  humbler  heav'n ; 
,     r.^.         Some  safer  world  in  depth  of  woods  embraced,  105 

'-  U^a      Some  happier  island  in  the  watry  waste, 
^iL,v,.-^;.  Where  slaves  once  more  their  native  land  behold, 
>(^sr^    v^  No  fiends  torment,  no  Christians  thirst  for  gold.^ 


[ui^'^l»~*^To  Be,  contents  his  natural  desire, 

3^t<V 


^: 


^'n,  v-*     He  asks  no  AngePs  wing,  no  Seraph's  fire  ;  1 10 

^  '^  But  thinks,  admitted  to  that  equal  sky, 

His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company. 

IV.  Go,  wiser  thou!  and,  in  thy  scale  of  sense, 
Weigh  thy  Opinion  against  Providence ; 

Call  imperfection  what  thou  fancy'st  such,  115 

Say,  here  he  gives  too  little,  there  too  much : 
Destroy  all  Creatures  for  thy  sport  or  gust, 
,^,J,  Yet  cry.  If  Manjsjinhappy,  God 's  unjust ; 
\Wm^-'^         If  Man  aloriFengmss  not  Heaven's  high  care, 
■A      >^    Alone  made  perfect  here,  immortal  there:  120 

r^i/^         Snatch  from  his  hand  the  balance  and  the  rod, 
V'^'^*^      Re-judge  his  justice,  be  the_Ga£x-of  God. 
\x\Vr\(\^^  \y\  rpAs^ning  Pride,  our  error  lies  ; 

" " s. 

125 
Gods. 
Aspiring  to  be  Gods,  if  Angels  fell, 
Aspiring  to  be  Angels,  Men  rebel : 
'f  »\^'         And  who  but  wishes  to  invert  the  laws 

Of  Order,  sins  against  th'  Eternal  Cause.  130 

V.  Ask  for  what  end  the  heav'nly  bodies  shine, 
Earth  for  whose  use  ?  Pride  answers,  "  T  is  for  mine : 
For  me  kind  Nature  wakes  her  genial  Pow'r, 
"uckles  each  herb,  and  spreads  out  ev'ry  flow'r ; 
Annual  for  me,  the  grape,  the  rose  renew  135 
The  juice  nectareous,  and  the  balmy  dew ; 
For  me,  the  mine  a  thousand  treasures  brings ; 
For  me,  health  gushes  from  a  thousand  springs ; 
Seas  roll  to  waft  me,  suns  to  light  me  rise; 
My  foot-stool  earth,  my  canopy  the  skies."  ^                                 140 

1     But  errs  not  Nature  from  this  gracious  end,^ 

1  After  V.  108  in  the  first  Ed.  difficulties  concerning  the  Origin  of  Evil,  in  his 
*  But  does  he  say  the  maker  is  not  good,  Dictionary,  1695,  with  much  acuteness  and 
Till  he's  exalted  to  what  state  he  wou'd:  ability,  revived  the  Manichean  controversy  that 
Himself  alone  high  Heav'n's  peculiar  care,  had  been  long  dormant.  He  was  soon  answered 
Alone  made  happy  when  he  will,  and  where? '  by  Le  Clerc  in  his  Parrhasiana,  and  by  many 

Warburton.  articles  in  his  Bibliothkques.     But  by  no  writer 

2  Warburton  compares  Ep.  iii.  v.  27.  was  Bayle  so  powerfully  attacked,  as  by  the  ex- 
?  Bayle  was  the  person  who,  by  stating  the    cellent  Archbishop  King,  in  his  Treatise  D^ 


^^Su 


1 98  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 

h  ^v     '  '  From  burning  suns  when  livid  ^aths  descend, 
.^^r  .i^ti^When  earthquaT^es  swallow,  or  when  tempests  sweep 
^>  .t  Towns  to  one  gra:ve,  whole  nations  to  the  deep?^ 

"  No,  ('tis  reply'd)  the  first  Almighty  Cause  145 

Acts  not  by  partialj^  but  by  general  laws  ; 
Th'  exceptions  few  ;  some  change  since  all  began : 
And  what  created  perfect?" — Why  then  Man? 
If  the  great  end  be  human  Happiness, 
^/Then  Nature  deviates  ;  and  can  Man  do  less?^  150 

/  ''As  much  that  end  a  constant  course  requires 
Of  show'rs  and  sun-shine,  as  of  Man's  desires  ; 
As  much  eternal  springs  and  cloudless  skies, 
As  Men  for  ever  temp'rate,  calm,  and  wise. 
j^*  '' ,  If  plagues  or  earthquakes  break  not  Heav'n's  design,  155 

'*\^"''  Why  then  a  Borgia,  or  a  Catiline? 

Who  knows  but  he,  whose  hand  the  lightning  forms, 
Who  heaves  old  Ocean,  and  who  wings  the  storms ; 
Pours  fierce  Ambition  in  a  Caesar's  mind. 

Or  turns  young  Ammon  loose  to  scourge  mankind?  ^  160 

Fram_pride,  frpm.pride,  our  very  reas'ning  springs ; 
^    Account  for  moral,  as  for  nat'ral  things  : 
r*-  Why  charge  we  Heav'n  in  those,  in  these  acquit? 
^"^^^^  '^    I^  both,  to  reason  right  is  to  submit. 

\-^'^  "defter  for  Us,  perhaps,  it  might  appear,  165 

Were  there  all  harmony,  all  virtue  here ; 
That  never  air  or  ocean  felt  the  wind ; 
That  never  passion  discompos'd  the  mind. 
But  ALL_subsis_ts  by  elemental  strife ;  ^ 

An^  Passions  are  the  elements  of  Life.  170 

The  gen'ral  Order,  since  the  whole  began, 
"H^s  kept  in  Nature,  and  is  kept  in  Man. 
'       VI.     What  would  this  Man?     Now  upward  will  he  soar, 

Origine  Malt,  1702.  .  .  „    Lord  Shaftesbury  ...  of  the  great  earthquake  at  Lisbon.     See  Lewes 

in  1709,  wrote  the  famous   Dialogue,   entitled  Lz/e  of  Goethe^  Bk.  i,  chap.  3.] 

The  Moralists,  as  a  direct  confutation  of  the  2  Ver.   150.     Then  Nature  deviates,  &'c.'\ 

opinions  of  Bayle.  ...     In  1 710,  Leibnitz  wrote  *'  While  comets  move  in  very  eccentric  orbs,  in 

his  famous  Theodicee.  ...     In  1720,  Dr.  John  all  manner  of  positions,  blind  fate  could  never 

Clarke  published  his  Enquiry  into  the  Cause  make  all  the  planets  move  one  and  the  same 

and  Origin  of  Evil,  a  work  full  of  sound  rea-  way  in  orbs  concentric;    some  inconsiderable 

soning;  but  almost  every  argument  on  this  most  irregularities  excepted,  which  may  have  risen 

difficult  of  all   subjects  had  been  urged  many  from  mutual  actions  of  comets  and  planets  upon 

years  before  any  of  the  above-named  treatises  one  another,  and  which  will  be  apt  to  increase, 

appeared,  viz.  1678,  by  that  truly  great  scholar  'till  this  system  wants  a  reformation."    Sir  Isaac 

and  divine,  Cudworth,  in  that  inestimable  treas-  Newton  s  Optics,  Quest,  ult.     Warburton. 

ury  of  learning  and  philosophy,  his  Intellectual  3  [Alexander  the  Great,  who  was  saluted  as 

System  of  the    Universe,  to  which  so  many  of  divine  origin  by  the  priests  of  the   Libyan 

authors   have  been   indebted,   without  owning  Zeus  Ammon;  cf.  Temple  of  Fame,  \.  154.] 

their  obligations.     Warton.  *  But  all  subsists,  &'c.']    See  this  subject  ex- 

1  [Such  doubts  arose  in  the  mind  of  Goethe,  tended  in  Ep.   ii.  from  v.  90  to  112,  155,  A'c, 

in  his  sixth  year,  at  the  very  time  when  they  Warburton. 
were  being  agitated  by  Voltaire,  on  the  occasion 


7^^ 


ESSAY  ON  MAN,  199 

And  little  less  than  Angel, ^  would  be  more ; 
Now  looking  downwards,  just  as  griev'd  appears  175 

To  want  the  strength  of  bulls,  the  fur  of  bears. 
Made  for  his  use  all  creatures  if  he  call, 
Say  what  their  use,  had  he  the  pow'rs  of.all?     - 
J^ature  to  these,  without  profusion,  kind, 

The  proper  organs,  proper  pow'rs  assigned ;  180 

r.  ^^(j^i!^    Each  §_eeming  want  cjipipexLsated-Of  course, 
0(^.*Y^       ■    Here  witli  decrees  of  swiftness,jh^re,Qf  force  ;  ^ 
All  in  exact  proportion  to  the  state ; 
Nothing  to  add,  and  nothing  to  abate. 

Each  beast,  each  insect,  happy  in  its  own :  185 

Is  Heav'n  unkind  to  Man,  and  Man  alone  .f* 
Shall  he  alone,  whom  rational  we  call, 
.      Be  pleas'd  with  nothing,  if  not  blessed  with  all? 
y^H*^*         The  bliss  of  Man  (could  Pride  that  blessing  find) 
/VMj'Vj^^^    Is  nofto  act  or  think  beyond  mankind  ;  190 

^^^^^       '     No  pow'rs  of  body  or  of  soul  to  share, 

*.jtBut  what  his  nature  and  his  state  can  bear, 
h  .  MWhy  has  not  Man  a  microscopic  eye?  ^ 
^jrv^  jFor  this  plain  reason,  Man  is  not  a  Fly. 
"^t^Viy  '   I  Say  what  the  use,  were  finer  optics  giv'n,  195 

^^^         \L      \jT'  inspect  a  mite,  not  comprehend  the  heav'n? 
/      H^  Qj-  touch,  if  tremblingly  alive  all  o'er. 

To  smart  and  agonize  at  every  pore  ? 
Or  quick  efiiuvia  darting  thro'  the  brain, 

Die  of  a  rose  in  aromatic  pain?  20Q 

nature  thunder'd  in  his  op'ning  ears, 


%^^     Aju/^-^^^nd  stunn'd  him  with  the  music  of  the  spheres 


■^M^  How  would  he  wish  that  Heav'n  had  left  him  still 

The  whisp'ring  Zephyr,  and  the  purling  rill? 
Who  finds  not  Providence  all  good  and  \Yise,  205 

Alike  in  what  it  gives,  and  what  denies? 
TTT.     Far  as  Creation's  ample  range  extends, 
^      The  scale  "oT  sensual,  mental  pow'rs  ascends  : 
^_J^>^*A      Mark  how  it  mounts,  to  Man's  imperial  race, 
j^'T^  -      From  the  green  myriads  in  the  peopled  grass  :  210 

■  r  r^"  ■     What  modes  of  sight  betwixt  each  wide  extreme, 
•    '         The  mole's  dim  curtain,  and  the  lynx's  beam  : 

*  And  little  less  than  Angel,  &^c-.]     Thou  of  poetry,  is  taken  from  Locke's  Essay  on  the 

hast  made  him  a  little  lower  than  the  Angels,  Human   U?iderstanding,  Bk.  ii.  chap.  3,  sec. 

and  hast  crowned  him  with  glory  and  honour.  12.      Wakefield. 
Psalm  viii.  9.     Warburton.  4  stttnn'd    him     with    the    music    of    the 

2  Here  with  degrees  of  swiftness,  &'c.'\     It  spheres^     This   instance  is  poetical  and  even 

is  a  certain  axiom  in  the  anatomy  of  creatures,  sublime,  but  misplaced.     He  is  arguing  philo 

that  in  proportion  as  they  are  formed  for  strength,  sophically  in  a  case  that  required  him  to  emplo\ 

their  swiftness  is  lessened;  or  as  they  are  formed  the  real  objects  of  sense  only:    And  what   is 

for  swiftness,  their  strength  is  abated.     P.  worse,   he   speaks   of   this   as   a    real   object 

5  That  particular  expression ,  microscopic  eye^  Warburton. 
and  the  whole  reasoning  of  this  astonishing  piece 


ESSAY  OAT  MAN, 

Of  smell,  the  headlong  lioness  between, ^ 

And  hound  sagacious  on  the  tainted  green : 

Of  hearing,  from  the  life  that  fills  the  Flood,  21 5 

To  that  which  warbles  thro'  the  vernal  wood : 

The  spider's  touch,  how  exquisitely  fine! 

Feels  at  each  thread,  and  lives  along  the  line : 

In  the  nice  bee,  what  sense  so  subtly  true 

From  pois'nous  herbs  extracts  the  healing  dew?  220 

How  Instinct  varies  in  the  grov'ling  sXvine,  ^ 

Compared,  half-reas'ning  elephant,  with  thine! 

'Twixt  that,  and  Reason,  what  a  nice  barrier,^ 

For  ever  sep'rate,  yet  for  ever  near! 

Remembrance  and  Reflection  how  ally'd  ;  225 

What  thin  partitions  Sense  from  Thought  divide :  * 

^And  Middle  natures,  how  they  long  to  join, 
Yet  never  pass  th'  insuperable  line! 
Without  this  just^.i2^^tio^?  could  they  be 
Subje£t_ed^Jhese  to  those,  or  all  to  thee  ?  230 

The  pow^rs^raTTsulDdu^dby  tTiee  alone, 
Is  not  thy  Reason  all  these  pow'rs  in  one?  ^..-_, 

VIII.     See,  thro'  this  air,  this  ocean,  and  this  earth,       1  ^ 
All  matter  quick,  and  bursting  into  birth. 

Above,  how  high,  progressive  life  may  go!  !  235 

Around,  how  wide!  how  deep  extend  below! 
Vast  chain -ofBdu^-  which  from  God  began, 
ijj^atures  ethereal,  human,  angel,  man,*  j 

/^  Beast,  bird,  fish,  insect,  what  no  eye  can  see,  \ 

I     No  glass  can  reach  ;  from  Infinite  to  thee,  j    240 

^     From  thee  to  Nothing.  —  On  superior  pow'rs  ^ 
'^J^^'^^'il*  Were  we  to  press,  inferior  might  on  ours : 
'i^'^W      Or  in  the  full  creation  leave  a  void, 

*  I     Where,  one  step  broken,  the  great  scale's  destroy^: 
•  ^(From  Nature's  chain  whatever  link  you  strike,^  245 

Tenth  or  ten  thousandth,  breaks  the  chain  alike.  _J  air^ 

1  the  headlong  lioness]     The  manner  of  the    of  course  taken  from  Dryden's  Absalom  and 
Lions  hunting  their  prey  in  the  deserts  of  Africa    Achitophel.] 

is  this  :    At  their  first  going  out  in  the  night-         *  Ver.  238,  Ed.  i, 

time  they  set  up  a  loud  roar,  and  then  listen  to  *  Ethereal  essence,  spirit,  substance,  man.' 

the  noise  made  by  the  beasts  in  their  flight,  pur-  Warburton. 

suing  them  by  the  ear,  and  not  by  the  nostril.  ^  Warton  compares: 

It  is  probable  the  story  of  the  jackal's  hunting  '  Has  any  seen 

for  the  lion,  was  occasioned  by  observation  of  The  mighty  chain  of  beings,  lessening  down 

this  defect  of  scent  in  that  terrible  animal.     P.  From  infinite  Perfection,  to  the  brink 

2  [Dissyllable.]  Of  dreary  Nothing,  desolate  abyss! 

3  What   thin  partitions,    ^^c]     So    thin.     From    which    astonished    Thought    recoiling 
that  the  Atheistic  philosophers,  as  Protagoras,  turns?' 

held   that  thought  was  only  sense;  and  from  Thomson  \^Seasons,  Stunifter], 

thence  concluded,  that  every  itnaginatio7t  or  [The  whole  of  this  passage  was  added  by  Thom- 

opinion  of  every  man  was  true.      Warburton.  son  in  the  second  edition  of  his  poem.] 
[Hence  his  formula  that  'Man  is  the  measure  of         ^  Almost  the  words  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  1.  v. 

all  things.'     The  phraseology  of  these  lines  is  c.  8;  as  also  v,  265  from  the  same.     Warton. 


>Ae 


^- 


ESSAY  ON  MAN,  20I 

And,  if  each  system  in  gradation  roll 
Alike  essential  to  th'  amazing  Whole, 
The  least  confusion  but  in  one,  not  all 

That  system  only,  but  the  Whole  must  fall._J/  250 

Let  Earth  unbalance  from  her  orbit  fly. 
Planets  and  Suns  run  lawless  thro'  the  sky ; 
Let  ruling  angels  from  their  spheres  be  hurl'dj^ 
Being  on  Being  wreck'd,  and  world  on  world ; 
Heaven's  whole  foundations  to  their  centre  nod,  255 

"  nd  Nature  tremble  to  the  throne  of  God. 
All  this  dread  Order  break  —  for  whom  ?  for  thee  ? 
Vile  worm!  —  Oh  Madness!     Pride!     Impiety!    . 

IX.  What  if  the  foot,  ordain'd  the  dust  to  tread,^ 
Or  hand,  to  toil,  aspired  to  be  the  head  ?  260 
What  if  the  head,  the  eye,  or  ear  repined 
To  serve  mere  engines  to  the  ruling  Mind? 
Just  as  absurd  for  any  part  to  claim 

To  be  another,  in  this  gen'ral  frame  :  ^  ^.  a'*-*^^ 

Just  as  absurd,  to  mourn  the  tasks  or  pains,^      . '  '      265 

The  great  directing  Mind  of  All  ordains. 

All  are  but  parts  ot  one  stupendous  whole,       - 
•  fAVhose  body  Natuxe.is,  and  God  the  soul;*;  . 
That,  changed  thro'  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same ; 
Great  in  the  earth,  as  in  th'  ethereal  frame ;  270 

'  Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 

t  Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees, 

Tv4^^.      ^:'-'  Lives  thro'  all  life,  extends  thro'  all  extent, 
.y-^      ...      Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent; 
,^-'  *:  '       Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part,  275 

As  full,  as  perfect,  in  a  hair  as  heart : 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  vile  Man  that  mourns, 
As  the  rapt  Seraph  that  adores  and  burns  :  ^ 
To  him  no  high,  no  low,  no  great,  no  small ; 
He  fills,  he  bounds,  connects,  and  equals  all.  280 

X.  Cease  then,  nor  Order  Imperfection  name: 
Our  proper  bliss  depends  on  what  we  blame.^ 
Know  thy  own  point :  This  kind,  this  due  degree 

"^  Let  ruling  angels  ^cJl  The  poet,  through-  ^  y^st  Us  absurd,  &'c.'\  See  the  Prosecu- 
out  this  poem,  with  great  art  uses  an  advantage,  tion  and  application  of  this  in  Ep.  iv.  P. 
which  his  employing  a  Platonic  principle  for  *  [Warburton  has  a  long  and  ingenious  note 
the  foundation  of  his  Essay  had  afforded  him;  on  this  passage,  intended  to  vindicate  Pope 
and  that  is  the  expressing  himself  (as  here)  in  from  the  charge  of  having  given  vent  to  a  pan- 
Platonic  notions;  which,  luckily  for  his  purpose,  theistical  and  *  Spinozist*  conception,  by  adduc- 
are  highly  poetical,  at  the  same  time  that  they  ing  other  passages  from  the  Essay  in  which  a 
add  a  grace  to  the  uniformity  of  his  reasoning,  personal  God  is  acknowledged.] 
Warbtirton.                                                                        ^  As   the  rapt  Seraph,  <5r'c.]     Alluding  to 

^  What  if  the  foot,  i^cJ]     This  fine  illustra-  thGr^arciQ  Seraphim,  sigmiyingburners.  War- 

tion  in  defence  of  the  System  of  Nature,  is  burton. 
taken  from  St.  Paul,  who  employed  it  to  defend  ^  After  v.  282,  in  the  MS. 

the  System  of  Grace  [i  Cor.  xii.  15-21].  *  Reason,  to  think  of  God  when  she  pretends, 

Begins  a  Censor,  an  Adorer  ends.'  Warburton* 


ESSAY  ON  MAN, 


\ 


Of  blindness,  weakness,  Heav'n  bestows  on  thee. 

*  «3ttbtti^'  —  -^^  ^^^^^'  ^^  ^^y  other  sphere, 
Secure  to  be  as  blest  as  thou  canst  bear : 
Safe  in  the  hand  of  one  disposing  PowV, 
Or  in  the  natal,  or  the  mortal  hour.^ 

JL^VL^'^^^^r(^  k  hnt  Art^  nr^j^nnwn  tO^thce  ; 

V  All  Chance,  Direction,  whicTTtHou  canst  not  see; 
All  Discord,  Harmony  not  understood  ; 
All  partial  Evil,  universal  Good : 
And,  spite  of  Pride,  in  erring  Reason's  spite, 
One  truth  is  clear,  Wsat:&ver  is,  is  right.^ 


28s 


290 


ARGUMENT   OF   EPISTLE  II. 

Of  the  Nature  and  State  of  Man  with  respect  to  Himself,  as  an  Individual. 

I.  The  business  of  Man  not  to  pry  into  God,  but  to  study  himself.  His  Middle 
Nature ;  his  Powers  and  Frailties,  v.  i  to  19.  The  Limits  of  his  Capacity,  v.  19,  &c. 
II.  The  two  Principles  of  Man,  Self-love  and  Reason,  both  necessary,  v.  53,  &c.  Self- 
love  the  stronger,  and  why,  v.  67,  &c.  Their  efid  the  same,  v.  81,  &c.  III.  The  PAS- 
SIONS, and  their  use,  v.  93  to  130.  The  predominant  Passion,  and  its  force,  v.  132  to 
160.  Its  Necessity,  in  directing  Men  to  different  purposes,  v.  165,  &c.  Its  providential 
Use,  in  fixing  our  Principle,  and  ascertain mg  our  Virtue,  v.  177.  IV.  Virtue  and  Vice 
joined  in  our  mixed  Nature  ;  the  limits  near,  yet  the  things  separate  and  evident :  What 
is  the  Office  ^/Reason,  v.  202  to  216.  V.  How  odious  Vice  in  itself  and  how  we  deceive 
ourselves  into  it,  v.  217.  VI.  That,  however,  the  Ends  (9/"Providence  a«^  general  Good 
are  answered  in  our  Passions  and  Imperfections,  v.  238,  &c.  How  usefully  these  are  dis- 
tributed to  all  Orders  of  Men,  v.  241.  How  useful  they  are  to  Society,  v.  251.  And  to 
the  Individuals,  v.  263.     In  every  state,  and  every  age  of  life,  v.  273,  &c. 


EPISTLE   II. 


TV' NOW  then  thyself,  presume  not  God  to  scan^ 


I.      _ 

The  proper  study  of  Mankind  is  Man.^ 
Plac'd  on  this  isthmus  of  a  middle  state, 
A  Being  darkly  wise,  and  rudely  great : 
With  too  much  knowledge  for  the  Sceptic  side,* 
With  too  much  weakness  for  the  Stoic's  pride, 


1  [What  Bolingbroke  says  in  the  fine  pas- 
sage quoted   by  Warton  (with   the   pious  wish 

*  Si  sic  omnia  dixisset')  was  more  briefly,  but  as 
finely  expressed  by  the  child  Goethe  (v.  ante') : 

*  God   knows  very  well  that  an  immortal  soul 
can  receive  no  injury  from  a  mortal  accident.'] 

2  [Warburton  thus  explains  the  conclusion 
deduced  from  the  argument  of  the  Epistle:  That 
Nature  being  neither  a  blind  ckaiti  of  Causes 
and  Effects,  nor  yet  the  fortuitotis  result  of 
wandering  atoms,  but  the  ^vonderfid  A  rt  and 
Direction  of  an  all-wise,  all-good,  a7id  free 
Being;  Whatever  is,  is  Right,  with  regard 


to  the  Disposition  of  God,  and  its  ultimate 
Tende7icy;  which  once  granted,  all  complaints 
against  Providence  are  at  an  end.] 

3  Ver.  2,  Ed.  i. 
*  The  only  science  of  Mankind  is  Man.* 

Warburton. 

*  [Sceptics  was  one  of  the  names  assumed  by 
the  followers  of  Pyrrhon,  who  *  always  consid- 
ered and  never  discovered;  '  whose  philosophy 
therefore  was  negative;  while  the  Stoics  pro- 
claimed the  doctrine  that  the  true  end  of  life 
and  the  real  happiness  of  man  consist  in  the 
performance  of  duty  and  the  pursuit  of  virtue.] 


ESSAY  ON  MAN. 


203 


He  hangs  between  ;  in  doubt  to  act,  or  rest ; 

In  doubt  to  deem  himself  a  God,  or  Beast ; 

In  doubt  his  Mind  or  Body  to  prefer ; 

Born  but  to  die,  and  reasoning  but  to  err ;  10 

AHke  in  ignorance,  his  reason  such, 

Whether  he  thinks  too  Httle,  or  too  much : 

Chaos  of  Thought  and  Passion,  all  confus'd ; 

Still  by  himself  abus'd,  or  disabus'd  ; 

Created  half  to  rise,  and  half  to  fall ;  It; 

Great  lord  of  all  things,  yet  a  prey  to  all ; 

Sole  judge  of  Truth,  in  endless  Error  hurPd  :  ^ 

The  glory,  jest,  and  riddle  of  the  world! 

Go,  wondVous  creature!  moun^wliere_Sidencfi_guides, 
Go,  measure  earth,  weigh  air,  and  state  the  tides  ;     ~       x     20 
Instruct  the  planets  in  what  orbs  to  run. 
Correct  old  Time,  and  regulate  the  Sun ;  2 
Go,  soar  with  Plato  to  th'  empyreal  sphere, 
To  the  first  good,  first  perfect,  and  first  fair ; 
Or  tread  the  mazy  round  his  followers  trod,  25 

And  quitting  sense  call  imitating  God ; 
As  Eastern  priests  in  giddy  circles  run,^ 
And  turn  their  heads  to  imitate  the  Sun. 
-^  (  Go,  teach  Eternal  Wisdom  how  to  rule  — 

:- ,  Then  drop  into  thyself,  and  be  a  fool!*  30 

/Jk  /\  ■•i).         Superior  beings,  when  of  late  they  saw 
v'''^  \/  A  mortal  Man  unfold  all  Nature^s  law, 

^  Admir'd  such  wisdom  in  an  earthly  shape, 
And  shew'd  a  Newton  as  we  shew  an  Ape.^ 

Could  he,  whose  rules  the  rapid  Comet  bind,  35 

Describe  or  fix  one  movement  of  his  Mind? 
Who  saw  its  fires  here  rise,  and  there  descend. 
Explain  his  own  beginning,  or  his  end? 
Alas  what  wonder!  Man's  superior  part 
Unchecked  may  rise,  and  climb  from  art  to  art ;  40 

^  in  endless  Error  hrirl'd.']    To  kiirl  s\gm-  from   the   following  passage  in  the  Zodiac  of 

fies,  not  simply  to  cast,  but  to  cast  backward  Palingenius,  and  not,  as  hath  been  suggested  by 

and  forward,  and  is  taken  from  the  rural  game  Dr.  Hurd,  from  Plato.     Pope  was  a  reader  and 

called  hurling.     Warburton.     [Scotice:  curl-  publisher    [he    published   a   selection   in   1740, 

ing.]  founded  on  an  earlier  anthology  of  1684]  of  the 

2  Correct  old  Tijue,']  This  alludes  to  Sir  modern  poets  of  Italy  who  wrote  in  Latin.  The 
Isaac  Newton's  Grecian  Chronology,  which  he  words  are  — 

reformed  on  those  two  sublime  conceptions,  the  *  Simia   Coelicolum   risusque  jocusque  Deorum 

difference  between  the  reigns  of  kings,  and  the  est 

generations  of  men ;   and  the  position  of  the  co-  Tunc  Homo,  cum   temere   ingenio  confidit,  et 

lures  of  the  equinoxes  and  solstices  at  the  time  audet 

of  the  Argonautic  expedition.      Warburton.  Abdita  Naturae  scrutari  arcanaque  Divum,' 

3  [Eastern  priests,  as  e.g.  the  priests  of  the  Warton.  This  is  however  an  entirely  different 
Sun-God  Baal,]  sense   from   that  in  which   Pope   has   used  the 

*  Go,  teach  Eternal  Wisdom  &^c,'\  These  similitude:  in  the  one  case  the  superior  beings 
two  lines  are  a  conclusion  from  all  that  had  admire  the  wisdom,  in  the  other,  they  laugh 
been  said  from  v.  18.     Warburton.  at  the  folly.    Roscoe. 

*  as  we  shew  an  A/e.]   Evidently  borrowed 


^r^' 


204  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 

But  when  his  own  great  work  is  but  begun, 

What  Reason  weaves,  by  Passion  is  undone.     -^ 
Trace  Science  then,  with  Modesty  thy  guide ; 

First  strip  off  all  her  equipage  of  Pride  ; 

Deduct  what  is  but  Vanity,  or  Dress,  45 

Or  Learning's  Luxury,  or  Idleness  ;  ^ 

Or  tricks  to  shew  the  stretch  of  human  brain,^ 

Mere  curious  pleasure,  or  ingenious  pain ; 

Expunge  the  whole,  or  lop  th'  excrescent  parts 

Of  all  our  Vices  have  created  Arts  ;  ^  50 

Then  see  how  little  the  remaining  sum. 

Which  serv'd  the  past,  and  must  the  times  to  come! 
X.    .    -^-'IL     Two  Principles  in  human  nature  reign ; 
-fi^*'    ^.  Self-love,  to  urge,  and  Reason,  to  restrain  ; 

'Tf or  this  a  good,  nor  tE!t  a  bad  we  call,  55 

Each  works  its  end,  to  move  or  govern  all : 

And  to  their  proper  operation  still, 

Ascribe  all  Good  ;  to  their  improper.  111. 

Self-love,  the  spring  of  motion,  acts  ^  the  soul ; 
t?  i^     Jr^  Reason's  comparing  balance  rules  the  whole.  60 

V^ij^iAF  Man,  but  for  that,  no  action  could  attend, 
"^^  And  but  for  this,  were  active  to  no  end : 

Fix'd  like  a  plant  on  his  peculiar  spot. 

To  draw  nutrition,  propagate,  and  rot ; 

Or,  meteor-like,  flame  lawless  thro'  the  void,  65 

Destroying  others,  by  himself  destroyed. 

Most  strength  the  moving  principle  requires ; 

Active  its  task,  it  prompts,  impels,  inspires. 

Sedate  and  quiet  the  comparing  lies, 
^~  Form'd  but  to  check,  deliberate,  and  advise.  70 

\<^^i<f--    Self-love  still  stronger,  as  its  objects  nigh; 

Reason  's  at  distance,  and  in  prospect  lie :  ^ 

That  sees  immediate  good  by  present  sense ; 

Reason,  the  future  and  the  consequence.  ^ 

Thicker  than  arguments,  temptations  throng,  75 

At  best  more  watchful  this,  but  that  more  strong. 

The  action  of  the  stronger  to  suspend. 

Reason  still  use,  to  Reason  still  attend. 

Attention,  habit_and  experience  ^ains  ; 

1  [i.e.  what  is  done  by  Learning  after  a  fashion  ^  acts  {ox  actuates.     Bowles.     [The  verb  is 
intended  to  make   a  show  or  to  save   trouble,  used  in  the  same  sense  by  South.] 
Learning's  Luxury  and  Idleness  both  resort  to  ^  [A  false  concord;  unless,  which  seems  im- 
that   profuse   abuse    of  words   which    Mephis-  probable,  Pope  originally  wrote  Reasons  plur.] 
topheles  recommends  to  the  Scholar  in  Faust.'\  ^'  Reason,  the  future  and  the  conseguence.\ 

2  [*  Tours  de/orce.^'\  i.e.  By  experietice  Reason  collects  ^h^  future; 

3  [i.e.  expunge  all  this  (the  equipage  of  2indhy argumentation, the conseguetice.  War- 
Pride),  or  lop  the  excrescent  parts  nvhich  have  burton.  From  Bacon:  *  The  Affections  carry 
created  arts  (rexvat)  out  of  all  our  vices.  The  even  an  appetite  to  good,  as  Reason  doth.  The 
reference  is  obviously  to  such  arts  or  sciences  difference  is,  that  the  Affection  beholdeth  itierely 
as  gastronomy,  which  seek  to  gratify  the  carnal  \ht.  present ;  Reason  beholdeth  xhtfuttire  and 
demands  of  human  nature.]  j«;«  of  time.'     Bowles. 


ESSAV  OAT  MAN.  205 

Each..slxengtJtLeiisJReason,  and  Self-love  restrains.  80 

^  Let_^§]ibiJb-s€beolmen  teach  these  friends  to  fight,^     ^ 

'^'^ '^^^ji^"^-      More  studious  to  divide  than  to  unite ; 

And  Grace  and  Virtue,  Sense  and  Reason  split, 
With  all  the  rash  dexterity  of  wit. 

Wits,  just  like  Fools,  at  war  about  a  name,  85 

Have  full  as  oft  no  meaning,  or  the  same.^ 
Self-love  and^Reason  to  one  end  aspire, 
,  \^      Pain  their  av^t^iQA».  Pleasure  their  desire ; 
V^  fiut  greedy  That,  its  object  would  devour, 

This  taste  the  honey,  and  not  wound  the  flowV;  90 

Pleasure,  or  wrong  or  rightly  understood, 
Our  greatest  evil,  or  our  greatest  good. 

III.     Modes  of  Self-love  the  Passions  we  may  call ; 
'T  is  real  gooH,  or  seeming,  moves  them  all : 
But  since  not  evVy  good  we  can  divide,  95 

And  Reason  bids  us  for  our  own  provide ; 
Passions,  tho'  selfish,  if  their  means  be  fair, 
List  2  under  Reason,  and  deserve  her  care  ; 
Those,  that  imparted,  court  a  nobler  aim, 
Exalt  their  kind,  and  take  some  Virtue's  name.  lOO 

In  lazy  Apathy  let  Stoics  boast 
Their  Virtue  fix'd ;  't  is  fix'd  as  in  a  frost ;  * 
Contracted  all,  retiring  to  the  breast ; 
But  strength  of  mind  is  Exercise,  not  Rest : 
The  rising  tempest  puts  in  act  the  soul,  I05 

Parts  it  may  ravage,  but  preserves  the  whole. 
On  life's  vast  ocean  diversely  we  sail. 
Reason  the  card,^  but  Passion  is  the  gale ;  ^ 

1  Let  subtle  schoolmen  &'c.'\     From  this  de-  him,  of  the  more  ancient  Manicheans.    War- 

scription  of  Self-love  and  Reason  it  follows,  as  burton. 
the  poet  observes  (from  v.  80  to  93),  that  both  2  After  v.  86,  in  the  MS. 

conspire  to  one  end,  namely,  human  happiness,  *  Of  good  and  evil  Gods  what  frighted  Fools, 

though  they  be  not  equally  expert  in  the  choice  Of  good  and  evil  Reason  puzzled  Schools, 

of  the  means;  the  difference  being  this,  that  the  Deceiv'd,  deceiving,  taught  — .'       Warburton. 
first  hastily  seizes  every  thing  which  hath  the  3  [List,  i.e.  enlist  or  range  themselves.] 

appearance  of  good;  the  other  weighs  and  ex-  *  [Warton,  in  an  admirable  note,  points  out 

amines  whether  it  be  indeed  what  it  appears.  the  injustice  of  '  the  universal  censure  that  has 

This  shews,  as  he  next  observes,  the  folly  of  been  passed  upon   the   Stoics,  as  if  they  con- 

the  schoolmen,  who  consider  them  as  two  oppo-  stantly  and  strenuously  inculcated  a  total  insen-, 

site  principles,  the  one  good  and  the  other  evil,  sibility  with  respect  to  passion,  to  which  these 

The  observation  is  seasonable  and  judicious;  for  lines  of  Pope  allude;    when    it   is   certain   the 

this  dangerous  school-opinion  gives  great  sup-  Stoics  meant  only  a  freedom  from  strong  per- 

port  to  the  Manichean  or  Zoroastrian  error,  the  turbation,  from   irrational  and  excessive  agita- 

confutation   of  which  was  one  of  the  author's  tions  of  the  soul ;  and  no  more.] 
chief  ends  in  writing.    For  if  there  be /w^ /rz«-         ^  \^Tke  card,  i.e.  the  compass.]     This  pas- 

ciples  in  Man,  a  good  and  bad,  it  is  natural  to  sage  is  exactly  copied  from  Fontenelle,  torn.  i. 

think   him  the  joint  product  of  the  two  Mani-  p.  109.     Warton. 
chean  deities  (the  first  of  which  contributed  to         ^  After  ver.  108,  in  the  MS. 
his  Reason,  the  other  to  his  Passions)  rather         *  A  tedious  Voyage !  where  how  useless  lies 
than  the  creature  of  one  Individual  Cause.  This  The  compass,  if  no  pow'rful  gusts  arise? ' 

was  Plutarch's  notion,  and,  as  we  may  see  in  Warbuf^ton, 


>< 


206  ESSAY  ON  MAN, 

Nor  God  alone  in  the  still  calm  we  find, 

He  mounts  the  storm,  and  walks  upon  the  wind.  no 

J         .  Passions,  like  Elements,  tho'  born  to  fight, 

l*^!^  \     ^^^?  mix'd  and  soften'd,  in  his  work  unite  :  ^ 
/jAa^*^^  J,- These  't  is  enough  to  temper  and  employ; 
t\-^^.-^    But  what  composes  Man,  can  Man  destroy? 

Suffice  that  Reason  keep  to  Nature's  road,  115 

Subject,  compound  them,  follow  her  and  God. 

Love,  Hope,  and  Joy,  fair  Pleasure's  smiling  train, 

Hate,  Fear,  and  Grief,  the  family  of  Pain, 

These  mix'd  with  art,  and  to  due  bounds  confin'd, 

Make  and  maintain  the  balance  of  the  mind  :  120 

The  lights  and  shades,  whose  well  accorded  strife 

Gives  all  the  strength  and  colour  of  our  life. 
Pleasures  are  ever  in  our  hands  or  eyes ; 

And  when  in  act  they  cease,  in  prospect  ris.e : 

Present  to  grasp,  and  future  still  to  find,  125 

The  whole  employ  of  body  and  of  mind. 

All  spread  their  charms,  but  charm  not  all  alike ; 

On  diff'rent  senses  diff 'rent  objects  strike ; 

Hence  diif 'rent  Passions  more  or  less  inflame, 

As  strong  or  weak,  the  organs  of  the  frame  ;  130 

And  hence  one  master  Passion  in  the  breast, 

Like  Aaron's  serpent,  swallows  up  the  rest.^ 
As  Man,  perhaps,  the  moment  of  his  breath,^ 

Receives  the  lurking  principle  of  death  ; 

The  young  disease,  that  must  subdue  at  length,  135 

Grows  with  his  growth,  and  strengthens  with  his  strength : 

So,  cast  and  mingled  with  his  very  frame, 
t  The  Mind's  disease,  its  ruling  Passion  came ; 

^^^  "  Each  vital  humour  which  should  feed  the  whole, 

u^^a-*^       Soon  flows  to  this,  in  body  and  in  soul :  140 

•  x{,\N.^-         Whatever  warms  the  heart,  or  fills  the  head. 

As  the  mind  opens,  and  its  functions  spread, 

Imagination  plies  her  dang'rous  art. 

And  pours  it  all  upon  the  peccant  part. 

^  Nature  its  mother.  Habit  is  its  nurse ;  145 

Wit,  Spirit,  Faculties,  but  make  it  worse ; 

Reason  itself  but  gives  it  edge  and  powV ;  ^ 

As  Heav'n's  blest  beam  turns  vinegar  more  sour. 


>(  W 


^  After  ver.  112,  in  the  MS.  ni7is  Poeta   omnibus  annis   uno    die  natali 
'  The  soft  reward  the  virtuous,  or  invite;  tantuin  corripiebaturfebre,  et  eo  consumptus 
The  fierce,  the  vicious  punish  or  affright.'  est  satis   longa    senecia.     Plin.    1.  vii.  N.  H, 
Warburton.  This  Antipater  was   in  the  times  of  Crassus, 
2  [The  theory  that  every  man  has  one  mas-  and  is  celebrated  for  the  quickness  of  his  Parts 
ter  passion  which   at   length   absorbs   all   the  by  Cicero  \^de  Orat.  iii.  50].     Warburton. 
rest,]  the  poet  illustrates  at  large  in  his  epistle  *  Warburton  quotes  in  illustration  the  char- 
to  Lord  Cobham.     Here  (from  v.  126  to  149)  he  acter  of  Cotta  in  the  Epistle  (iii.)  of  the  use  of 
gives  us  the  cause  of  it.     Warburton.  Riches  (vv.  177  ff.). 
^  As  Many  perhaps,  &=c.'\  Antipater  Sido- 


VV  J 


>s<; 


4-? 


170 


ESSAY  ON  MAN,  207 

We,  wretched  subjects,  tho'  to  lawful  sway, 
In  this  weak  queen  some  fav'rite  still  obey :  150 

Ah!  if  she  lend  not  arms,  as  well  as  rules, 
What  can  she  more  than  tell  us  we  are  fools? 
Teach  us  to  mourn  our  Nature,  not  to  mend, 

sharp  accuser,  but  a  helpless  friend ! 
Or  from  a  judge  turn  pleader,  to  persuade  155 

The  choice  we  make,  or  justify  it  made ; 
Proud  of  an  easy  conquest  all  along. 
She  but  removes  weak  passions  for  the  strong : 
So,  when  small  humours  gather  to  a  gout, 
The  doctor  fancies  he  has  driv'n  them  out.  160 

Yes,  Nature^s  road  must  ever  be  pjrefer/d  \^ 
eason  is  herejig  guidCj,  but  stiir_a_guard : 
'T  is  hers  to  rectify,  not  overthrow. 
And  treat  this  passion  more  as  friend  than  foe : 
,  r  A  mightier  Pow'r  the  strong  direction  sends,  165 

^a,i>  *      ^nd  sev'ral  Men  impels  to  sev Val  ends  : 
/^^  Like  varying  winds,  by  other  passions  tost, 

*TnAj^  This  drives  them  constant  to  a  certain  coast. 
Jk  j^  *H^  Let  pow'r  or  knowledge,  gold  or  glory,  please, 
P^AA^^^^^^>A^r  (oft  more  strong  than  all)  the  love  of  ease ; 
^^\if^\Af  Thro'  life  't  is  followed,  ev'n  at  Hfe's  expense; 
'-'  MT*>i  The  merchant's  toil,  the  sage's  indolence, 
jM  iiv^  The  monk's  humility,  the  hero's  pride, 
^fi^'     All,  all  alike,  find  Reason  on  their  side. 

Th'  Eternal  Art  educing  good  from  ill,  175 

Graffs  on  this  Passion  our  best  principle : 
'T  is  thus  the  Mercury  of  Man  is  fix'd. 
Strong  grows  the  Virtue  with  his  nature  mix'd ; 
The  dross  cements  what  else  were  too  refin'd, 
And  in  one  int'rest  body  acts  with  mind.  180 

As  fruits,  ungrateful  to  the  planter's  care. 
On  savage  stocks  inserted,  learn  to  bear ; 
^^Jbp  s^^est  Virtues  thus  from  Passions^^ihoo^    ^ 
^TV/ild  Nature's  vigour  workmg  at  the^^oot. 
f   What  crops  of  wit  and  honesty  appear  185 

^f^^    .      From  spleen,  from  obstinacy,  hate,  or  fear! 
'^^  ;i'*^\       See  anger,  zeal  and  fortitude  supply  ; 

Ev'n  av'rice,  prudence  ;  sloth,  philosophy  ; 
Lust,  thro'  some  certain  strainers  well  refin'd, 
Is  gentle  love,  and  charms  all  womankind ;  190 

lJ-1^^,^     ^Envy,  to  which  th'  ignoble  mind  .'^  a  slayei_   ...m^".     ' 
^     Is  emulation  in  th^  tom'd  A!"  hxUe ; 

Nor  Virtue,  male  or  female,  can  we  name. 

But  what  will  grow  on  Pride,  or  grow  on  Shame.^ 

1  After  V.  194,  in  the  MS.  Peleus'  great  Son,  or  Brutus,  who  had  known, 

How    oft,   with    Passion,   Virtue    points    her  Had  Lucrece  been  a  Whore,  or  Helen  none? 

Charms !  But  Virtues  opposite  to  make  agree, 

Then  shines  the  Hero,  then  the  Patriot  warms.  That,  Reason!  is  thy  task;  and  worthy  Thee. 


2o8  ESSAY  ON  MAN, 

▼^  Thus  Nature  gives  us  (let  it  check  our  pride)  195 

Xli^J^Jrtue  nearest  to  our  vice  ally'd : 
Reason  the  bias  turns  to  good  from  ill, 
And  Nero  reigns  a  Titus,  if  he  will. 
.  r      The  fiery  soul  abhorr'd  in  Catiline, 
t  J^^i       In  Decius  charms,  in  Curtius  is  divine:^  200 

v*fvx,.<-        The  same  ambition  can  destroy  or  save, 
'^^^'^         And  makes  a  patriot  as  it  makes  a  knave. 

This  light  and  darkness  in  our  chaos  join'd, 
.     fj  What  shall  divide?     The  God  within  the  mind: 

i''  '*       *y -Extremes  in  Nature  equal  ends  produce,  205 

In  Man  they  join  to  some  mysterious  use ; 
Tho'  each  by  turns  the  other's  bound  invade. 
As,  in  some  well-wrought  picture,  light  and  shade, 
And  oft  so  mix,  the  din'rence  is  too  nice 
Where  ends  the  Virtue,  or  begins  the  Vice.  210 

Fools!  who  from  hence  into  the  notion  fall, 
That  Vice  or  Virtue  there  is  none  at  all. 
If  white  and  black  blend,  soften,  and  unite 
A  thousand  ways,  is  there  no  black  or  white? 
Ask  your  own  heart,  and  nothing  is  so  plain;  215 

'T  is  to  mistake  them  costs  the  time  and  pain. 

Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen ; 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face. 

We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace.  220 

But  where  th'  Extreme  of  Vice,  was  ne'er  agreed : 
Ask  where  's  the  North  ?  at  York,  't  is  on  the  Tweed ; 
..,  ^f        In  Scotland,  at  the  Orcades  ;  and  there, 
-^x'^'  At  Greenland,  Zembla,  or  the  Lord  knows  where. 

No  creature  owns  it  in  the  first  degree,  225 

But  thinks  his  neighbour  further  gone  than  he ;  ^ 
Ev'n  those  who  dwell  beneath  its  very  zone, 
Or  never  feel  the  rage,  or  never  own ; 
[What  happier  natures  shrink  at  with  affright, 
^he  hard  inhabitant  contends  is  right.  230 

'  ,pv  Virtuous  and  vicious  evVy  Man  must  be, 

eJ',^^        Few  in  th'  extreme,  but  all  in  the  degree; 
■  yy "       The  rogue  and  fool  by  fits  is  fair  and  wise ; 

Hard  task,  cries  Bibulus,  and  reason  weak.  i  [The  famous  heroes  of  the  battle  of  Vesu- 

—  Make  it  a  point,  dear  Marquess!  or  a  pique,  vius,  and  the  Curtian  Gulf.] 

Once,  for  a  whim,  persuade  yourself  to  pay  2  After  v.  226,  in  the  MS. 

A  debt  to  reason,  like  a  debt  at  play.  *  The  Col'nel  swears  the  Agent  is  a  dog, 

For  right  or  wrong  have  mortals  suffer'd  more  The  Scriv'ner  vows  th'  Attorney  is  a  rogue. 

B —  for  his  Prince,  or  *  *  for  his  Whore?  Against  the  Thief  th'  Attorney  loud  inveighs, 

Whose  self-denials  nature  most  controul?  For  whose  ten  pound  the  County  twenty  pays. 

His,  who  would  save  a  Sixpence  or  his  Soul?  The  Thief  damns  Judges,  and  the  Knaves  of 

Web  for  his  health,  a  Chartreux  for  his  Sin,  State; 

Contend  they  not  which  soonest  shall  grow  thin.  And   dying,  mourns  small  Villains  hang'd  by 

What,  we  resolve,  we  can:  but  here  *s  the  fault,  great.' 

We  ne'er  resolve  to  do  the  thing  we  ought.' 


ur 

Jw 


ESSAY  ON  MAN. 


209 


And  ev'n  the  best,  by  fits,  what  they  despise. 
'T  is  but  by  parts  we  follow  good  or  ill ;  235 

For,  Vice  or  Virtue,  Self  directs  it  still ; 
Each  individual  seeks  a  sev'ral  goal ; 
K^cjt^y^  But  Heaven's  great  view  is  One,  and  that  the  Whole. 
\y^P^'^  That  counter-works  each  folly  and  caprice ; 
y^^-J^  That  disappoints  th'  effect  of  ev'ry  vice  ;  240 

^  That,  happy  frailties  to  all  ranks  apply'd, 

Shame  to  the  virgin,  to  the  matron  pride. 
Fear  to  the  statesman,  rashness  to  the  chief, 
To  kings  presumption,  and  to  crowds  belief: 
That,  Virtue's  ends  from  Vanity  can  raise,  245 

Which  seeks  no  interest,  no  reward  but  praise ; 
And  build  on  wants,  and  on  defects  of  mind, 
The  joy,  the  peace,  the  glory  of  Mankind. 

Heav'n  forming  each  on  other  to  depend, 
A  master,  or  a  servant,  or  a  friend,  250 

Bids  each  on  other  for  assistance  call. 
Till  one  Man's  weakness  grows  the  strength  of  all. 
Wants,  frailties,  passions,  closer  still  ally 
The  common  interest,  or  endear  the  tie. 

To  these  we  owe  true  friendship,  love  sincere,  255 

Each  home-felt  joy  that  life  inherits  here ; 
Yet  from  the  same  we  learn,  in  its  decline. 
Those  joys,  those  loves,  those  interests  to  resign ; 
Taught  half  by  Reason,  half  by  mere  decay, 
To  welcome  death,  and  calmly  pass  away.  ^260 

Whatever  the  Passion,  knowledge,  fame,  or  pelf, 
.  Not  one  will  change  his  neighbour  with^^h^self. 
^.V^The  learn'd  is  happy  nature  to  explore,    "    '~*''^' 
^w^^'At)    'pi^g  f-QQi  jg  happy  that  he  knows  no  more ; 
^-^i/^'iU  T^^  ^^^^  is  happy  in  the  plenty  giv'n,  265 

"^  ,y/i^^  The  poor  contents  him  with  the  care  of  Heav'n. 
See  the  blind  beggar  dance,  the  cripple  sing, 
The  sot  a  hero,  lunatic  a  king ; 
The  starving  chiemist  in  his  golden  views 
, ;;  .Supremely  blest,  the  poet  in  his  Muse.^  270 

1;^  See  some  strange  comfort  ev'ry  state  attend,^ 

^0^         And  Pride  bestow'd  on  all,  a  common  friend ; 
See  some  fit  Passion  ev'ry  age  supply, 

1  the  poet  in  his  Muse.]    The  author  having  truth  when  he  published  his  last  Edition  of  the 

said,  that  no  one  would  change  his  profession  or  Essay,   he  reserved  the  lines  above  for  some 

views  for  those  of  another,  intended  to  carry  his  following  one.     Warburton. 
observation   still   further,  and  shew  that  Men         2  |^\\raj.ton  quotes  Gray's  beautiful  lines: 
were  unwilling  to  exchange  their  own  acquire-  *  Still  where  rosy  Pleasure  leads 

ments  even  for  those  of  the  same  kind,  confess-  See  a  kindred  grief  pursue; 

edly  larger,   and   infinitely   more    eminent,   in  Behind  the  steps  that  Misery  treads 

another.     To  this  end  he  wrote.  Approaching  Comfort  view,  &c. ; 

'  What  partly  pleases,  totally  will  shock:  and  the  same  thought  is  felicitously  expanded  in 

I  question  much,  if  Toland  would  be  Locke:  '  Akenside's  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination  (Bk. 

but  wanting  another  proper   instance  of   this  11.    '  Ask  the  faithful  youth,' &c.).] 


v^^ 


wo  ESSAY  ON  MAN, 

• 

Hope  travels  thro',  nor  quits  us  when  we  die. 
NiJ      Behold  the  child,  by  Nature's  kindly  law,  275 

^Pleas'd  with  a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  straw : 
Some  livelier  play-thing  gives  his  youth  delight, 
A  little  louder,  but  as  empty  quite : 
Scarfs,  garters,  gold,  amuse  his  riper  stage. 
And  beads  and  pray'r-books  are  the  toys  of  age :  280 

Pleas'd  with  this  bauble  still, ^as  that  before ; 
'Till  tir'd  he  sleeps,  and  Life's  poor  play  is  o'er. 

Mean-while  Opinion  gilds  with  varying  rays 
Those  painted  clouds  that  beautify  our  days; 
Each  want  of  happiness  by  hope  supply'd,  285 

And  each  vacuity  of  sense  by  Pride ; 
These  build  as  fast  as  knowledge  can  destroy ; 
In  Folly's  cup  still  laughs  the  bubble,  joy ; 
One  prospect  lost,  another  still  we  gain ; 

And  not  a  vanity  is  giv'n  in  vain  ;  290 

Ev'n  mean  Self-love  becomes,  by  force  divine, 
The  scale  to  measure  others'  wants  by  thine. 
See !  and  confess,  one  comfort  still  must  rise, 
'T  is  this,  Tho'  Man's  a  fool,  yet  God  is  wise. 


ARGUMENT  OF  EPISTLE  III. 

Of  the  Nature  and  State  of  Man  with  respect  to  Society. 

I.  The  whole  Universe  one  system  of  Society,  v.  7,  &c.  Nothing  made  wholly  for 
itself,  nor  yet  wholly  for  another,  v.  27.  The  happiness  of  Animals  mutual,  v.  49. 
II.  Reason  or  Instinct  operate  alike  to  the  good  of  each  Individual,  v.  79.  Reason  or 
Instinct  operate  also  to  Society,  in  all  animals,  v.  109.  IIL  How  far  Society  carried  by 
Instinct,  v.  115.  How  much  farther  by  Reason,  v.  128.  IV.  Of  that  which  is  called  the 
State  of  Nature,  v.  144.  Reason  instructed  by  Instinct  in  the  invention  of  Arts,  v.  166, 
and  in  the  Forms  of  Society,  v.  176.  V.  Origin  of  Political  Societies,  v.  196.  Origin 
of  Monarchy,  v.  207.  Patriarchal  government,  v.  212.  VL  Origin  of  true  Religion 
and  Government,  from  the  same  principle,  of  Love,  v.  231,  &c.  Origin  of  Superstition 
and  Tyranny,  from  the  same  principle^  of  Fear,  v.  237,  &c.  The  Influence  of  Self-love 
operating  to  the  social  and  public  Good,  v.  266.  Restoration  of  true  Religion  and  Gov- 
ernment on  their  first  principle,  v.  285.  Mixt  Government^  v.  288.  Various  Forms  of 
each,  and  the  true  end  of  all,  v.  300,  &c. 

EPISTLE   III. 

I.     TTERE  then  we  rest :  "  The  Universal  Cause  ^ 
jn     Acts  to  one  end,  but  acts  by  various  laws." 
In  all  the  madness  of  superfluous  health. 
The  trim  of  pride,  the  impudence  of  wealth. 
Let  this  great  truth  be  present  night  and  day ;  5 

'But  most  be  present,  if  we  preach  or  pray. 

Look  round  our  World  ;  behold  the  chain  of  Love 

1  In  several  Edit.  4to.  —  *  Learn,  Dulness,  learn !    **  The  Universal  Cause," '  &c.    Warhurton* 


/ 


-'  ESSAY  OAT  MAN".  211 

Combining  all  below  and  all  above. 
>j[3ee  plastic  Nature  working  to  this  end, 
■The  single  atoms  each  to  other  tend,  10 

Attract,  attracted  to,  the  next  in  place 
Form'd  and  impelPd  its  neighbour  to  embrace. 
See  Matter  next,  with  various  life  endu'd, 
^>   ..V     Press  to  one  centre  still,  the  general  Good. 
^  See  dpng  vegetables  life  sustain,  15 

See  life  dissolving  vegetate  again  : 
All  forms  that  perish  other  forms  supply, 
(By  turns  we  catch  the  vital  breath,  and  die,) 
Like  bubbles  on  the  sea  of  Matter  born. 

They  rise,  they  break,  and  to  that  sea  return.  20 

Nothing  is  foreign  :  Parts  relate  to  whole ; 
One  all-extending,  all-preserving  Soul  ^ 
Connects  each  being,  greatest  with  the  least ;  ^ 
Made  Beast  in  aid  of  Man,  and  Man  of  Beast ; 
All  servM,  all  serving :  nothing  stands  alone ;  25 

The  chain  holds  on,  and  where  it  ends,  unknown. 
Has  God,  thou  fool !  workM  solely  for  thy  good, 
Thy  joy,  thy  pastime,  thy  attire,  thy  food? 
Who  for  thy  table  feeds  the  wanton  fawn. 
For  him  as  kindly  spread  the  flow'ry  lawn :  30 

^-      Is  it  for  thee  the  lark  ascends  and  sings  ? 
-vVS^!  -      Joy  tunes  his  voice,  joy  elevates  his  wings. 
•^^V       Is  it  for  thee  the  linnet  pours  his  throat? 
^\\y^      Loves  of  his  own  and  raptures  swell  the  note. 
.j^-P  -phg  bounding  steed  you  pompously  bestride,  35 

Shares  with  his  lord  the  pleasure  and  the  pride. 
Is  thine  alone  the  seed  that  strews  the  plain? 
The  birds  of  heav'n  shall  vindicate  their  grain. 
Thine  the  full  harvest  of  the  golden  year? 
Part  pays,  and  justly,  the  deserving  steer :  40 

The  hog,  that  ploughs  not  nor  obeys  thy  call, 
Lives  on  the  labours  of  this  lord  of  all. 

Know,  Nature's  children  all  divide  her  care ; 
he  fur  that  warms  a  monarch,  warm'd  a  bear. 
While  Man  exclaims,  "  See  all  things  for  my  use  ! "  45 

"  See  man  for  mine  !  "  replies  a  pamper'd  goose :  * 

^  One  all-extending,  all-preserving  Soul]  *  Spiritus  intus  alit,  totamque  infusa  per  artus 

Which,  in  the  language  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  is  Mens  agitat  molem  et  magno  se  corpore  miscet.' 

Deus    omniprcesens    est,    non   per  virtutem  ^n.  vi.  726-7.] 

solanty  sed  etiam  per  substantiatn :  nam  vir-         ^  Taken  from  Peter  Charron  [the  author  of 

tus    sine    substantia    subsistere   non   potest,  the  book  ^^ /^  ^^^f^^f^y^,  into  which  he  admitted, 

Newt.  Princ.  Schol.  gan.  sub  fin.    Warburton.  with    modifications,   many   thoughts    from    his 

^  greatest  with  the  least ;\     As  acting  more  friend  Montaigne's  famous  uE'jfazf].     Warton. 
strongly  and  immediately  in  beasts,  whose  in-  After  v.  46,  in  the  former  Editions, 

stinct  is  plainly  an  external  reason;  which  made  *  What  care  to  tend,  to  lodge,  to  cram,  to  treat 
an  old   school-man  say,  with  great  elegance,  him! 

Deus    est   anima    brutorum.     Warburton.  All  this  he  knew;  but  not  that  *t  was  to  eat 
[Bowles  cites  Vergil's  him. 


212  ESSAY  ON  MJU^^^ 

And  just  as  short  of  reason  he  must  fall, 
Who  thinks  all  made  for  one,  not  one  for  all. 
^v^>^     Grant  that  the  powerful  still  the  weak  controul ; 

Be  Man  the  Wit  and  Tyrant  of  the  whole  :  ^  50 


>' 


V^t  A^^^^Tv^^^^''^  ^^^^  Tyrant  checks ;  he  only  knows, 
v.*  jtd*^       And  helps,  another  creature's  wants  and  woes. 


^■^-^ 


if^ 


Say,  will  the  falcon,  stooping  from  above, 
Smit  with  her  varying  plumage,  spare  the  dove? 
Admires  the  jay  the  insect's  gilded  wings?  55 

Or  hears  the  hawk  when  Philomela  sings? 
Man  cares  for  all :  to  birds  he  gives  his  woods, 
To  beasts  his  pastures,  and  to  fish  his  floods ; 
For  some  his  Interest  prompts  him  to  provide, 
For  more  his  pleasure,  yet  for  more  his  pride :  '  60 

All  feed  on  one  vain  Patron,  and  enjoy 
Th'  extensive  blessing  of  his  luxury.    - 
That  very  life  his  learned  hunger  craves, 
He  saves  from  famine,  from  the  savage  saves ; 
Nay,  feasts  the  animal  he  dooms  his  feast,  65 

And,  'till  he  ends  the  being,  makes  it  blest ; 
Which  sees  no  more  the  stroke,  or  feels  the  pain, 
Than  favour'd  Man  by  touch  ethereal  slain. ^ 
^       The  creature  had  his  feast  of  life  before ; 

Thou  too  must  perish,  when  thy  feast  is  o'er !  70 

To  each  unthinking  being  Heav'n,  a  friend, 
Gives  not  the  useless  knowledge  of  its  end :  ^ 
To  Man  imparts  it ;  but  with  such  a  view 
As,  while  he  dreads  it,  makes  him  hope  it  too : 
The  hour  conceal'd,  and  so  remote  the  fear,  75 

Death  still  draws  nearer,  never  seeming  near. 
Great  standing  miracle!  that  Heav'n  assigned 
Its  only  thinking  thing  this  turn  of  mind. 

n.    Whether  with  Reason,  or  with  Instinct  bjest, 
Know,  all  enjoy  that  pow'r  which  suits  them  best ;  80 

To  bliss  alike  by  that  direction  tend. 
And  find  the  means  proportion'd  to  their  end. 
Say,  where  full  Instinct  is  th'  unerring  guide, 
What  Pope  or  Council  can  they  need  beside? 
Reason,  however  able,  cool  at  best,  85 

Cares  not  for  service,  or  but  serves  when  prest, 
Stays  'till  we  call,  and  then  not  often  near ; 
But  honest  Instinct  comes  a  volunteer, 

As  far  as  Goose  could  judge,  he  reason'd  right;  sacred  persons,  and  the  particular  favourites  of 

But  as  to  Man,  mistook  the  matter  quite.'  Heaven.     P.     The  expression,  *  by  touch  ethe- 

Warburton.  real  slain,'  is  from  Milton.    Warton.    [Samson 

1  [i.e.   grant  that  man's    intellect   rules   all  Agonistes,  549.] 

creation.]  ^  [This  passage  finely  turns  the  common  con- 

2  Than  favour*  d  Man  ^'c.^     Several  of  the  trast  between  man  and  beast,  which  is  drawn  in 
ancients,  and  many  of  the  Orientals  since,  es-  Charron,  de  la  Sagesse,  Liv.  i.  chap.  8.] 
teemed  those  who  were  struck  by  lightning  as 


^ 


\<': 


> 


\ 


ESSAY  ON-  MAN-,  213 

Sure  never  to  o'er-shoot,  but  just  to  hit ; 

While  still  too  wide  or  short  is  human  Wit ;  90 

Sure  by.  quick  Nature  happiness  to  gain, 
WMch  heavier  Reason  labours  at  in  vain, 
This  too  serves  always,  Reason  never  long; 
One  must  go  right,  the  other  may  go  wrong. 
See  then  the  acting  and  comparing  pow'rs  95 

S^One  in  their  nature,  which  are  two  in  ours ; 
4^>  'And  Reason  raise  o'er  Instinct  as  you  can, 
"^  In  this  't  is  God  directs,  in  that  't  is  Man. 

Who  taught  the  nations  of  the  field  and  flood 
To  shun  their  poison,  and  to  choose  their  food?  lOO 

Prescient,  the  tides  or  tempests  to  withstand, 
Build  on  the  wave,  or  arch  beneath  the  sand  ? 
Who  made  the  spider  parallels  design, 
Sure  as  Demoivre,^  without  rule  or  line  ? 

Who  did  the  stork,  Columbus-like,  explore  105 

Heav'ns  not  his  own,  and  worlds  unknown  before? 
Who  calls  the  council,  states  the  certain  day. 
Who  forms  the  phalanx,  and  who  points  the  way? 

III.   God  in  the  nature  of  each  being  founds 
Its  proper  bliss,  and  sets  its  proper  bounds  :  1 10 

But  as  he  fram'd  a  Whole,  the  Whole  to  bless, 
On  mutual  Wants  built  mutual  Happiness  :  / 

So  from  the  first,  etfixnaL  Order  ran. 
And  creature  link'd  fo "creature,  man  to  man. 
Whatever  of  life  all-quick' ning  aether  keeps,  1 15 

Or  breathes  thro'  air,  or  shoots  beneath  the  deeps, 
Or  pours  profuse  on  earth,  one  nature  feeds 
~^he  vital  flame,  and  swells  the  genial  seeds. 
Not  Man  alone,  but  all  that  roam  the  wood, 
Or  wing  the  sky,  or  roll  along  the  flood,  120 

Each  loves  itself,  but  not  itself  alone. 
Each  sex  desires  alike,  'till  two  are  one. 
Nor  ends  the  pleasure  with  the  fierce  embrace ; 
They  love  themselves,  a  third  time,  in  their  race. 
Thus  beast  and  bird  their  common  charge  attend,  125 

The  mothers  nurse  it,  and  the  sires  defend ; 
The  young  dismiss'd  to  wander  earth  or  air,  / 

There  stops  the  Instinct,  and  there  ends  the  care; 
The  link  dissolves,  each  seeks  a  fresh  embrace, 
Another  love  succeeds,  another  race.  130 

A  longer  care  Man's  helpless  kind  demands ; 
That  longer  care  contracts  more  lasting  bands : 
Reflection,  Reason,  still  the  ties  improve, 
At  once  extend  the  int'rest,  and  the  love ; 
With  choice  we  fix,  with  sympathy  we  burn ;  135 

1  \^Demoivre.     This  famous  mathematician  was  born  at  Virty  in  Champagne  in  1667.    The 
allusion  in  the  text  is  to  his  fame  in  trigonometry.] 


214  ESSAY  OI\r  MAN", 

Each  Virtue  in  each  Passion  takes  its  turn ; 

And  still  new  needs,  new  helps,  new  habits  rise, 

That  graft  benevolence  on  charities. 

Still  as  one  brood,  and  as  another  rose. 

These  natVal  love  maintained,  habitual  those  :  140 

The  last,  scarce  ripen'd  into  perfect  Man, 

Saw  helpless  him  from  whom  their  life  began : 

MemVy  and  fore-cast  just  returns  engage. 

That  pointed  back  to  youth,  this  on  to  age  ; 

While  pleasure,  gratitude,  and  hope,  combined,  145 

Still  spread  the  int'rest,  and  preservM  the  kind. 
^^/^  IV.    Nor  think,  in  Nature's  State  they  blindly  trod ; 
^Y^he  state  of  Nature  was  the  reign  of  God : 
'- /Self4ove  and  Social  at  her  birth  began, 

Union,  the  bond  of  all.  things,  and  of  Man.  1 50 

Pride  then  was  -not ;  nor  Arts,  that  Pride  to  aid ; 

Man  walk'd  with  beast,  joint  tenant  of  the  shade ;  ^ 
^-        The  same  his  table,  and  the  same  his  bed ; 


\)^  j^      /^^  murder  clothM  him,  and  no  murder  fed. 
JXJ*^^       N  In  the  same  temple,  the  resounding  wood. 


..  15s 

All  vocal  beings  hymn'd  their  equal  God : 
The  shrine  with  gore  unstain'd,  with  gold  undrest, 
Unbrib'd,  unbloody,  stood  the  blameless  priest : 
Heav'n's  attribute  was  Universal  Care, 

And  Man's  prerogative  to  rule,  but  spare.  160 

Ah!  how  unlike  the  man  of  times  to  come! 
.  Of  half  that  live  the  butcher  and  the  tomb ;  ^ 
*Jwho,  foe  to  Nature,  hears  the  gen'ral  groan, 
^  Murders  their  species,  and  betrays  his  own. 
;  But  just  disease  to  luxury  succeeds,  165 

And  ev'ry  death  its  own  avenger  breeds ; 
The  Fury-passions  from  that  blood  began, 
/  And  turn'd  on  Man  a  fiercer  savage,  Man. 
-L,,^  See  him  from  Nature  rising  slow  to  Art! 
^    To  copy  Instinct  then  was  Reason's  part ;  170 

^  /  Thus  then  to  Man  the  voice  of  Nature  spake  — 
"  Go,  from  the  Creatures  thy  instructions  take : 
^,  y.v.-v  Learn  from  the  birds ^  what  food  the  thickets  yield; 

^'^^0'-'^'    Learn  from  the  beasts  the  physic  of  the  field  ;  * 

1  Man  waW  d  ivith  beast,  joint  tetiant  of  the  and  sensations;  and  that  it  was  by  slow  degrees 

shade ;'\  The  poet  still  takes  his  imagery  from  they  came  to  the  use  of  speech.     This  opinion 

Platonic  ideas,  for  the  reason  given  above.    Plato  was  afterwards  held  by  Lucretius,  Diodorus  Sic. 

had   said  from  old   tradition,  that,  during  the  and  Gregory  of  Nyss.     Warbiirton. 
Golden  age,  and  under  the  reign  of  Saturn,  the  2  [Thomson's  diatribe  in  the  Seasons,  against 

primitive  language  then  in  use  was  common  to  the  barbarous  practice  of  eating  animal  food,  will 

man  and  beasts.     Moral  philosophers  took  this  be  remembered;    as  well  as  the  circumstance 

in  the  popular  sense,  and  so  invented  those  fables  that  he  draws  the  line  at  fish.] 
which  give  speech  to  the  whole  brute-creation.         ^  Learn  from  the  birds,  &'c.'\     Taken,  but 

The  naturalists  understood  the  tradition  to  sig-  finely  improved,  from  Bacon's  Advancement  oj 

nify,  that,  in  the  first  ages,  Men  used  inarticu-  Learning  \^V..  11.].     IVarton. 
late  sounds  like  beasts  to  express  their  wants         ^  Learn  from  the  beasts  y  &r'c.'\     See  Pliny's 


ESSAY  ON  MAN.  215 

Thy  arts  of  building  from  the  bee  receive ;  175 

Learn  of  the  mole  to  plough,  the  worm  to  weave ; 

Learn  of  the  little  Nautilus  to  sail,^ 

Spread  the  thin  oar,  and  catch  the  driving  gale. 

Here  too  all  forms  of  social  union  find, 

And  hence  let  Reason,  late,  instruct  Mankind :  180 

Here  subterranean  works  and  cities  see ; 

There  towns  aerial  on  the  waving  tree. 

Learn  each  small  People's  genius,  policies, 

The  Ant's  republic,  and  the  realm  of  Bees ; 

How  those  in  common  all  their  wealth  bestow,  185 

And  Anarchy  without  confusion  know ; 

And  these  for  ever,  tho'  a  Monarch  reign, 

Their  separate  cells  and  properties  maintain. 

Mark  what  uavary'd  laws  preserve  each  state, 

Laws  wise  as  Nature,  and  as  fix'd  as  Fate.  190 

In  vain  thy  Reason  finer  webs  shall  draw. 

Entangle  Justice  in  her  net  of  Law, 

And  right,  too  rigid,  harden  into  wrong ; 

Still  for  the  strong  too  weak,  the  weak  too  strong. 

Yet  go!  and  thus  o'er  all  the  creatures  sway,  195 

Thus  let  the  wiser  make  the  rest  obey ; 

And,  for  those  Arts  mere  Instinct  could  afford, 
ylBe  crown'd  as  Monarchs,  or  as  Gods  ador'd." 
•      -      f^  V.    Great  Nature  spoke  ;  observant  Men  obey'd ; 

Cities  were  built,  Societies  were  made :  200 

^^      Here  rose  one  little  state  ;  another  near 
^^■^*^      Grew  by  like  means,  and  join'd,  thro'  love  or  fear. 

Did  here  the  trees  with  ruddier  burdens  bend, 

And  there  the  streams  in  purer  rills  descend? 

What  War  could  ravish.  Commerce  could  bestow,  205 

And  he  return'd  a  friend,  who  came  a  foe. 

Converse  and  Love  mankind  might  strongly  draw, 
^J    When  Love  was  Liberty,  and  .^^ture_Law. 
\  ^  \,Z|^Thus  States  were  form'd ;  the  name  oT  King  unknown, 
'       "  'Till  common  infrest  plac'd  the  sway  in  one.  210 

'T  was  Virtue  only  ^  (or  in  arts  or  arms. 

Diffusing  blessings,  or  averting  harms) 

The  same  which  in  a  Sire  the  Sons  obey'd, 

A  Prince  the  Father  of  a  People  made. 


Nat.  Hist.  L.  viii.  c.  27,  where  several  instances  feet  like  masts,  and  extend  a  membrane  between, 

are  given  of  Animals  discovering  the  medicinal  which  senflcs  as  a  sail ;  the  other  two  feet  they 

efficacy  of  herbs,  by  their  own  use  of  them ;  and  employ  as  oars  at  the  side.     They  are  usually 

pointing  out  to  some  operations  in  the  art  of  seen  in  the  Mediterranean."    P. 

healing,  by  their  own  practice.     Warburton.  ^  'T  was  Virtue  only,  &*£:.]      Our  author 

1  Learn   of  the   little   Nautilus']    Oppian.  hath  good  authority  for  his  account  of  the  ori- 

Halieut.  Lib.  i.  describes  this  fish  in  the  fol-  gin  of  kingship.     Aristotle  assures  us  of  this 

. lowing  manner :  "  They  swim  on  the  surface  of  truth,  that  it  was  Virtue   only,  or  in  arts  or 

the  sea,  on  the  back  of  their  shells,  which  ex-  arms.     {Polit.  v.  lo.  3.]      Warburton. 
actly  resemble  the  hulk  of  a  ship ;  they  raise  two 


2i6  ESSAY  ON  MAN-, 

A     VI.     'Till  then,  by  Nature  crown'd,  each  Patriarch  sate,    215 
V  King,  priest,  and  parent  of  his  growing  state ; 
On  him,  their  second  Providence,  they  hung, 
Their  law  his  eye,  their  oracle  his  tongue. 
He  from  the  wond'ring  furrow  call'd  the  food, 
Taught  to  command  the  fire,  control  the  flood,  '         220 

Draw  forth  the  monsters  of  th'  abyss  profound, 
Or  fetch  th'  aerial  eagle  to  the  ground. 
'Till  drooping,  sick'ning,  dying  they  began 
Whom  they  rever'd  as  God  to  mourn  as  Man : 
Then,  looking  up  from  sire  to  sire,  explor'd  225 

One  great  first  Father,  and  that  first  ador'd. 
Or  plain  tradition  that  this  All  begun, 
Convey'd  unbroken  faith  from  sire  to  son ; 
The  worker  from  the  work  distinct  was  known, 
And  simple  Reason  never  sought  but  one :  230 

^  v^t^t-  Ere  Wit  oblique  had  broke .thg-t^stead^Jfebt,^ 

v'^  )5\   >       Man,  like  his^  Maker,"'saw  that  all  was  right ; 
r.'^^tj'^W        To  Virtue,  in  the  paths  of  Pleasure,  trod, 
'^rV'  *  ^^^  own'd  a  Father  when  he  own'd  a  God. 

^  ' '        I    Love  all  the  faith,  and  all  th'  allegiance  then ;  235 

^X^For  Nature  knew  no  right  xli¥iiieJi3,,M,^n, 
^^  Aja*     ■'^^  ^^^  could  fear  in  God ;  and  understood 
^-'*Tft^      A  sovereign  being  but  a  sov'reign  good. 
^  True  faith,  true  policy,  united  ran, 

This  was  but  love  of  God,  and  this  of  Man.  240 

Who  first  taught  souls  enslav'd,  and  realms  undone, 
Th'  enormous  faith  2  of  many  made  for  one ; 
That  proud  exception  to  all  Nature's  laws, 
T'  invert  the  world,  and  counter-work  its  Cause? 
Force  first  made  Conquest,  and  that  conquest,  Law ;  245 

'Till  Superstition  taught  the  tyrant  awe. 
Then  shar'd  the  Tyranny,  then  lent  it  aid. 
And  Gods  of  Conqu'rors,  Slaves  of  Subjects  made : 
She  'midst  the  lightning's  blaze,  and  thunder's  sound, 
When  rock'd  the  mountains,  and  when  groan'd  the  ground,  250 
She  taught  the  weak  to  bend,  the  proud  to  pray, 
To  Pow'r  unseen,  and  mightier  far  than  they : 
She,  from  the  rending  earth  and  bursting  skies, 
Saw  Gods  descend,  and  fiends  infernal  rise : 
Here  fix'd  the  dreadful,  there  the  blest  abodes ;  255 

1  Ere  Wit  oblique  &=c.'\     A  beautiful  allu-         2  xh'  enormous  faith  ^'c'l     In  this  Aris- 

sion  to  the  effects  of  the  prismatic  glass  on  the  totle  placeth  the  difference  between  a  King  and 

rays   of  light.      Warburton.     [*  For  however  a  Tyrant,  that  the  first  supposeth  himself  made 

men  may   amuse   themselves,   and  admire,  or  for  the  People;  the  other,  that  the  People  are 

almost  adore  the  mind,   it  is  certain  that,  like  made  for  him.     Pol.  Lib.  v.  cap.  10.      Warbur- 

an  irregular  glass,  it  alters  the  rays  of  things  ion.     [i.e.  the  unnatural  doctrine  that  many  are 

by  its  figure  and  different  intersections.'    Bacon,  made  for  one  —  *  the  mania  of  the  Caesars,'  as  it 

Inst.  Magn.    There  is  a  similar  passage  in  the  has  been  finely  called.] 
Advancement  of  Learning,  ^\i.ii.'\ 


i- 


Y- 


ESSAY  ON  MAN.  217 

Fear  made  her  Devils,  and  weak  Hope  her  Gods ; 

Gods  partial,  changeful,  passionate,  unjust, 

Whose  attributes  were  Rage,  Revenge,  or  Lust ; 

Such  as  the  souls  of  cowards  might  conceive, 

And,  form'd  like  tyrants,  tyrants  would  believe.  260 

Jk^^jJ^^W^        7^^^  ^>^^"i  nnt  rViarJty,  heramp  \^(^  prnjdp  ; 

'^Jr^^^^  And  hell  was  built  on  spite,  and  heav'n  on  pride, 

Then  sacred  seemM  th'  ethereal  vault  no  more ; 
Altars  grew  marble  then,  and  reek'd  with  gore : 
Then  first  the  Flamen  tasted  living  food  ;  ^  265 

Next  his  grim  idol  smearM  with  human  blood ;  ^ 
With  Heav'n^s  own  thunders  shook  the  world  below, 
And  playM  the  God  an  engine  on  his  foe. 
QS  Q«^  So  drives  Self-love,  thro'  just  and  thro'  unjust, 

^*^^  '  To  one  Man's  pow'r,  ambition,  lucre,  lust :  ^  270 

^       The  same  Self-love,  in  all,  becomes  the  cause 
Of  what  restrains  him.  Government  and  Laws. 
For,  what  one  likes  if  others  like  as  well. 
What  serves  one  will,  when  many  wills  rebel? 
How  shall  he  keep,  what,  sleeping  or  awake,  275 

A  weaker  may  surprise,  a  stronger  take? 
His  safety  must  his  liberty  restrain : 
All  join  to  guard  what  each  desires  to  gain. 
Forc'd  into  virtue  thus  by  Self-defence, 

Ev'n  Kings  learn'd  justice  and  benevolence :  280 

Self-love  forsook  the  path  it  first  pursu'd, 
Anff  found  the  private  in  the  public  good. 

'T  was  then,  the  studious  head  or  gen'rous  mind, 
Follow'r  of  God  or  friend  of  human-kind, 
Poet  or  Patriot,  rose  but  to  restore  285 

^h»  The  Faith  and  Moral  Nature  gave  before ; 
Re-lum'd  her  ancient  light,  not  kindled  new ; 
If  not  God's  image,  yet  his  shadow  drew : 
Taught  Pow'r's  due  use  to  People  and  to  Kings, 
Taught  not  to  slack,  nor  strain  its  tender  strings,  290 

The  less,  or  greater,  set  so  justly  true, 
^J^        That  touching  one  must  strike  the  other  too ; 
<.»''^*^*^   »     ('Till  jarring  int'rests,  of  themselves  create 
^'*^^    ^Th'  according  music  of  a  well-mix'd  State. ^ 
^^^  Such  is  the  World's  great  harmony,  that  springs  295 

1  [living,  i.e.    animal.     By   employing  the    Of  human  sacrifice  and  parents'  tears, 

term  Jlamen,   Pope  does  not   appear  to  refer  Tho' for  the  noise  of  drums  and  timbrels  loud, 

specially  to   the  priests   and   sacrifices   of  the  Their  children's  cries  unheard  that  pass'd  thro* 

Roman   cultus,  though  among  the  latter  it  is  fire 

certain  that  human  sacrifices  were  up  to  a  late        To  his  grim  idol* 

period  included.]  [The  passage  is  parodied  in  the  Dunciad,  Bk. 

2  Warton   quotes    from    Milton    [Paradise  iv.  v.  142.] 

Lost,  Bk.  1.  V.  392  foil.]  :  ^  <  Quae  harmonia  a  musicis  dicitur  in  cantu, 

*  First  Moloch,  horrid  king,  besmear'd  with    ea  est  in  civitate  concordia.'    Cicero,  de  Republ. 

blood  Warton. 


2i8  ESSAY  ON  MAJSr. 

From  Order,  Union,  full  Consent  of  things : 
Where  small  and  great,  where  weak  and  mighty,  made 
To  serve,  not  suffer,  strengthen,  not  invade ; 
More  powerful  each  as  needful  to  the  rest. 
And,  in  proportion  as  it  blesses,  blest ;  300 

Draw  to  one  point,  and  to  one  centre  bring 
Beast,  Man,  or  Angel,  Servant,  Lord,  or  King, 
j  .  -A-     For  Forms_of  Government  let  fools  contest ; 
Whatever  is  best  administer^  is  best : 

For  Modes  of  Faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight ;  305 

His  can't  be  wrong  whose  life  is  in  the  right :  ^ 
^         In  Faith  and  Hope  the  world  will  disagree. 
But  all  Mankind's  concern  is  Charity : 
All  must  be  false  that  thwart  this  One  great  End ; 
And  all  of  God,  that  bless  Manlcind  or  mend.  310 

Man,  like  the  gen'rous  vine,  supported  lives ; 
The  strength  he  gains  is  from  th'  embrace  he  gives. 
On  their  own  Axis  as  the  Planets  run. 
Yet  make  at  once  their  circle  round  the  Sun ;  2 
So  two  consistent  motions  act  ^  the  Soul ;  315 

And  one  regards  Itself,  and  one  the  Whole. 

Thus  God  and  Nature  link'd  the  gen'ral  frame, 
And  bade  Self-love  and  Social  be  the  same. 

ARGUMENT  OF  EPISTLE  IV. 

Of  the  Nature  and  State  of  Man  with  respect  to  HAPPINESS. 

I.  FALSE  Notions  of  Happiness,  Philosophical  and  Popular,  answered  from  v.  19  to 
77.  II.  //  is  the  End  of  all  Men,  and  attainable  by  all,  v.  30.  God  intends  Happiness 
to  be  equal ;  and  to  be  so,  it  must  be  social,  since  all  particular  happiness  depends  on  gen- 
eral, and  since  he  gover7is  by  general,  not  particular  Laws,  v.  37.  As  it  is  necessary  for 
Order,  and  the  peace  and  welfare  of  Society,  that  external  goods  should  be  unequal. 
Happiness  is  not  made  to  consist  in  these,  v.  51.  But,  notwithstanding  that  inequality,  the 
balance  of  Happiness  among  Mankind  is  kept  even  by  Providence,  by  the  two  Passions  of 
Hope  and  Fear,  v.  70.  IIL  What  the  Happiness  ^/Individuals  is,  as  far  as  is  consist- 
ent with  the  constitution  of  this  world ;  and  that  the  good  Man  has  here  the  advantage, 
V.  JT.  The  error  of  imputing  to  Virtue  what  are  only  the  calainities  t?/" Nature,  or  of 
Fortune,  v.  94.  IV.  The  folly  of  expecting  that  God  should  alter  his  general  Laws  in 
favour  of  particulars,  v.  121.  V.  That  we  are  not  judges  who  are  good ;  but  that,  who- 
ever they  are,  they  must  be  happiest,  v.  133,  &c.  VI.  That  external  goods  are  ftot  the 
proper  rewards,  but  often  inconsistent  with,  or  destructive  of  Virtue,  v.  165.  That  even 
these  can  make  no  Man  happy  without  Virtue :  Instanced  in  Riches,  v.  183.  Honours, 
V.  191.  Nobility,  v.  203.  Greatness,  v.  215.  Fame,  v.  235.  Superior  Talents,  v.  257, 
&c.  With  pictures  of  human  Infelicity  in  Men  possessed  of  them  all,  v.  267,  &c. 
VII.  That  Virtue  only  constitutes  a  Happiness,  whose  object  is  universal,  and  whose 
prospect  eterna.],  v.  307,  &c.  That  the  perfection  tJ/Virtue  and  Happiness  consists  in  a 
conformity  to  the  ORDER  of  PROVIDENCE  here,  and  a  Resignation  to  it  here  and  here- 
after, V.  326,  &c. 

^  [*  His  faith  perhaps,  in  some  nice  tenets  Warton  thinks  that  Cowley  may  have  himself 

might  taken  the  hint  from  a  Latin  distich   by  Lord 

Be  wrong;  his  life,  I'm  sure,  was  in  the  Herbert  of  Cherbury,] 

right,'  2  ^^i  once,  i.e.  at  one  and  the  same  time.] 

Cowley,  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  Crashaw.         3  \act.    See  above,  Ep.  ii.  line  59.] 


ESSAV  ON  MAN.  219 


EPISTLE    IV. 

OH  Happiness!  our  being^s  end  and  aim!  ^ 
Good,  Pleasure,  Ease,  Content !  whate'er  thy  name : 
That  something  still  which  prompts  th'  eternal  vsigh, 
For  which  we  bear  to  live,  or  dare  to  die, 

Which  still  so  near  us,  yet  beyond  us  lies,  5 

O'er-look'd,  seen  double,^  by  the  fool,  and  wise. 
Plant  of  celestial  seed!  if  dropt  below, 
Say,  in  what  mortal  soil  thou  deign'st  to  grow? 
Fair  opening  to  some  Courf  s  propitious  shine,^ 
Or  deep  with  diamonds  in  the  flaming  mine  ?  10 

Twin'd  with  the  wreaths  Parnassian  laurels  yield, 
,  ^r\  Or  reap'd  in  iron  harvests  of  the  field  ? 

^  Where  grows?  —  where  grows  it  not?     If  vain  our  toil, 

We  ought  to  blame  the  culture,  not  the  soil : 
Fix'd  to  no  spot  is  Happiness  sincere,^  15 

'T  is  nowhere  to  be  found,  or  everywhere ; 
'T  is  never  to  be  bought,  but  always  free, 
And  fled  from  monarchs,  St.  John!  dwells  with  thee. 

Ask  of  the  Learn 'd  the  way?     The  Learn'd  are  blind ; 
This  bids  to  serve,  and  that  to  shun  mankind ;  20 

Some  place  the  bliss  in  action,^  some  in  ease, 
Those  call  it  Pleasure,  and  Contentment  these ; 
y  Some  sunk  to  Beasts,  find  pleasure  end  in  pain; 

Some  swelPd  to  Gods,  confess  ev'n  Virtue  vain ; 
,   '  ,     Or  indolent,  to  each  extreme  they  fall,  25 

To  trust  in  ev'ry  thing,  or  doubt  of  all. 

Who  thus  define  it,  say  they  more  or  less 
Than  this,  that  Happiness  is  Happiness? 

Take  Nature's  path,  and  mad  Opinion's  leave ; 


■?:;-:x 


1  Oh  Happiness!  &>c.'\  in  the  MS.  thus,  eral  mistakes  that  this  epistle  is  employed  in 
*  Oh  happiness !  to  which  we  all  aspire,  confuting.     Warburton. 

Wing'd  with  strong  hope,  and   borne  by   full         »  [skt'ney  a  substantive;   so  used  in  Spenser 

desire;  F.  Q.  Bk.  i.  Canto  x.  st.  67;  and  in  the  Prayer- 

That  ease,  for  which  in  want,  in  wealth  we  sigh;  book    Psalms,  xcvii.  4:    'his  lightnings  gave 

That  ease,  for  which  we  labour  and  we  die.'  shine  into  the  world.'] 
Warburton      [The  same  editor  points  out  how         *  {sincere,  i.e.  pure,  unalloyed.] 
the  lines  afterwards  substituted  for  these  sue-         ^  Some  place  the  bliss  in  action,  —  Some 

cessfully  imitate  the  classical  mode  of  invoking  a  sunk  to   Beasts,   dr*c.]     i.    Those  who  place 

Deity  by  his  several  names  and  places  of  abode.  Happiness,  or  the  summum.  bonum,  in  Pleas- 

as  in  the  Homeric  Hymns  (or  in  several  Odes  ure,  such  as  the  Cyrenaic  sect.     2.   Those  who 

of  Horace).     Eudaimonia,  Harmonia,  Hygieia,  place  it  in  a  certain  tranquillity  or  calmness  of 

Paidia,  Pandaisia  and  others  were  often  repre-  Mind,  such  as  the  Democritic   sect.     3.    The 

sented  by  the  Greeks  as  daughters,  or  as  hand-  Epicurean.     4.    The   Stoic.     5.    The   Protago- 

maids,  of  Aphrodite.]  rean,  which  held  that  Man  was  the  measure  oj 

2  O'erlook'd,  seen  double^  O'erlook'd  by  all  things;  for  that  all  things  which  appear  to 
those  who  place  Happiness  in  any  thing  exclu-  him  are,  and  those  things  which  appear  not  to 
sive  of  Virtue;  seen  double  by  those  who  admit  any  Man  are  not;  so  that  every  imagination 
any  thing  else  to  have  a  share  with  Virtue  in  or  opinion  of  every  man  was  true.  6.  The 
procuring  Happiness;  these  being  the  two  gen-  Sceptic.     Warburton. 


220  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 

All  states  can  reach  it,  and  all  heads  conceive ;  30 

Obvious  her  goods,  in  no  extreme  they  dwell ; 

There„n££4s_but  thinking  right,  and  meaning  well; 

And  mourn  our  various  portions  as  we  please, 

Equal  is  Common  Sense,  and  Common  Ease. 

Remember,  Man,  ^^the  Universal  CaUSe""^  '35 

Acts  not  by  partial,  but  by  gen'ral  laws ;  " 

And  makes  what  Happiness  we  justly  call 

Subsist  not  in  the  good  of  one,  but  all. 

There  's  not  a  blessing  Individuals  find, 

But  some  way  leans  and  hearkens  to  the  kind :  40 

No  Bandit  fierce,  no  Tyrant  mad  with  pride, 

No  cavern'd  Hermit,  rests  self-satisfy'd : 

Who  most  to  shun  or  hate  Mankind  pretend, 

Seek  an  admirer,  or  would  fix  a  friend : 

Abstract  what  others  feel,  what  others  think,  45 

All  pleasures  sicken,  and  all  glories  sink : 

Each  has  his  share ;  and  who  would  more  obtain, 

Shall  find,  the  pleasure  pays  not  half  the  pain. 
.>i,  Order  is  Heav'n's  first  law ;  and  this  confest, 

•> -^^"^'^        Some  are^  ami  must  be,  greater  thaa  the  rest,^  50 

\  \  i^^^\-^    More  ricTi,  more  wise ;  but  who  infers  from  hence 
rV  ^iV^      That  such  are  happier,  shocks  all  common  sense.^ 
\u^j^^\       Heaven  to  Mankind  impartial  we  confess, 
^\\  If  all  are  equal  in  their  Happiness : 

But  mutual  wants  this  Happiness  increase ;  55 

fSAU  Nature's  difference  keeps  all  Nature's  peace. 

Condition,  circumstance  is  not  the  thing ; 

Bliss  is  the  same  in  subject  or  in  king. 

In  who  obtain  defence,  or  who  defend. 

In  him  who  is,  or  him  who  finds  a  friend :  60 

Heav'n  breathes  thro'  ev'ry  member  of  the  whole 

One  common  blessing,  as  one  common  soul. 

But  Fortune's  gifts  if  each  alike  possest. 

And  each  were  equal,  must  not  all  contest? 

If  then  to  all  Men  Happiness  was  meant,  65 

God  in  Externals  could  not  place  Content. 
,,  Fortune  her  gifts  uiay  variously  dispose, 

^ ^^  ^SL^/    And  these  be  happy  call'd,  unhappy  those ; 
'  ^  ^      But  Heav'n's  just  balance  equal  will  appear, 

While  those  are  plac'd  in  Hope,  and. these  in  Fear:  70 

Nor  present  good  or  ill,  the  joy  or  curse,  "^        " 

But  future  views  of  better,  or  of  worse. 

^  Warton  aptly  refers  to  passages  distinguish-  And  for  one  Monarch  makes  a  thousand  slaves." 
ing  between  the  true  and  false  doctrines  of  You  '11  find,  when  Causes  and  their  Ends  are 
Equality  in  Montesquieu    {Esprit    des   Lois,  known, 

VIII.    3)    and  Voltaire   {Esprit   des    Nations^    *T  was  for  the  thousand  Heav'n  has  made  that 
c.  67).  one.' 

2  After  V.  52,  in  the  MS. 
^  *  Say  not,  "  Heav'n's  here  profuse,  there  poorly 
savesy 


ESSAY  OAT  MAN,  221 

Oh  sons  of  earth!  attempt  ye  still  to  rise, 
By  mountains  piPd  on  mountains,  to  the  skies  ?  ^ 
Heav'n  still  with  laughter  the  vain  toil  surveys,  75 

And  buries  madmen  in  the  heaps  they  raise. 
,^     ,       Know,  all  the  good  that  individuals  find, 
"\/  Or  God  and  Nature  meant  to  mere  Mankind, 
^'^^ Reason's  whole  pleasure,  all  the  joys  of  Sense, 

Lie  in  three  words.  Health,  Peace,  and  Competence.^  80 

But  Health  consists  with  Temperance  alone ; 

And  Peace,  oh  Yixtiie!  Peace  is  all  thy  own. 

The  good  or  bad  the  gifts  of  Fortune  gain ; 

But  these  less  taste  them,  as  they  worse  obtain. 

Say,  in  pursuit  of  profit  or  delight,  85 

Who  risk  the  most,  that  take  wrong  means,  or  right? 

Of  Vice  or  Virtue,  whether  blest  or  curst. 

Which  meets  contempt,  or  which  compassion  first? 

Count  all  th'  advantage  prosperous  Vice  attains, 

'T  is  but  what  Virtue  flies  from  and  disdains :  90 

And  grant  the  bad  what  happiness  they  would, 

One  they  must  want,  which  is,  to  pass  for  good.^ 

Oh  blind  to  Truth,  and  God's  whole  scheme  below, 
Who  fancy  Bliss  to  Vice,  to  Virtue  Woe !  ^ 
Who  sees  and  follows  that  great  scheme  the  best,  95 

Best  knows  the  blessing,  and  will  most  be  blest. 
But  fools  the  Good  alone  unhappy  call, 
For  ills  or  accidents  that  chance  to  all. 
See  Falkland^  dies,  the  virtuous  and  the  just!^ 
See  god-like  Turenne  prostrate  on  the  dust !  ^  loo 

See  Sidney  bleeds  amid  the  martial  strife !  "^ 

1  [Alluding  to  the  Titans'  attempt  to  scale    with  more  innocence.'    Waller,  the  most  fastid- 
Olympus.]  ious  of  English  [poets,  would  have  gladly  wel- 

2  [The  irXovQvyUia  of  Aristophanes.]  corned  Falkland  among  their  sacred  order : 

8  After  V.  92,  in  the  MS.  *  Ah,  noble  friend!  with  what  impatience  all 

*  Let  sober  Moralists  correct  their  speech,  That  know  thy  worth,  and  know  how  prodigal 
No  bad  man's  happy:  he  is  great  or  rich.'  Of  thy  great  soul  thou  art  (longing  to  twist 

Warburton.     Bays  with  that  ivy  which  so  early  kissed 

*  [i.e.  that  Bliss  accompanies  Vice,  and  Woe    Thy  youthful  temples),  with  what  horror  we 
Virtue.]  Think  of  the  blind  events  of  war  and  thee !  '] 

5  [Lucius  Gary  Lord  Falkland,  who  after  tak-  6  [Henry,  Vicomte  de  Turenne,  Marshal  of 
ing  part  in  the  opposition  against  the  oppressive  France,  after  commanding  the  French  armies  in 
measures  of  Charles  I.  and  the  policy  of  Straf-  the  latter  part  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  raised 
ford,  seceded  with  Hyde  and  others  from  the  his  military  fame  to  the  highest  pitch,  without 
popular  party  at  the  time  of  the  Grand  Remon-  preserving  it  intact  from  the  blot  of  barbarous 
strance,  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State,  and  conduct,  in  the  Alsatian  and  Palatinate  cam- 
fell,  fighting  under  the  Royal  Standard,  in  the  paigns  developed  out  of  the  peace  of  West- 
battle  of  Newbury,  Sept.  20,  1643.  It  is  of  him  phalia.  He  was  struck  dead  by  a  cannon-ball 
that  Glarendon,  in  one  of  the  most  eloquent  pas-  at  Salzbach  in  Baden  in  1675;  and  was  buried 
sages  of  his  History,  speaks  as  of  that  *  incom-  among  the  Kings  of  France  at  St.  Denis.] 
parable  young  man  who  in  the  brief  span  of  life  7  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the  author  of  the  A  rca- 
allotted  to  him'  (for  he  fell  in  his  34th  year)  dia,  who  was  wounded  to  the  death  in  the  glo- 
*  had  so  much  dispatched  the  business  of  life,  rious  but  useless  cavalry  charge  at  Zutphen  in 
that  the  oldest  rarely  attain  to  that  immense  1586.] 
knowledge,  and  the  youngest  enter  not  the  world 


222  ESSAY  ON  man; 

Was  this  their  Virtue,  or  Contempt  of  Life? 
Say,  was  it  Virtue,  more  tho'  Heav'n  ne'er  gave, 
Lamented  Digby!^  sunk  thee  to  the  grave? 
Tell  me,  if  Virtue  made  the  Son  expire,  105 

Why,  full  of  days  and  honour,  lives  the  Sire? 
Why  drew  Marseille's  good  bishop  purer  breath,^ 
;  When  Nature  sicken'd,  and  each  gale  was  death  ?3 
Or  why  so  long  (in  life  if  long  can  be) 

Lent  Heav'n  a  parent  to  the  poor  and  me?^  no 

.      What  makes  all  physical  or  moral  ill  ? 
Vj  There  deviates  Nature,  and  here  wanders  WiU. 

^' 'God  sends  not  ill ;  if  rightly  understood, 
'  '     Or  partial  111  is  universal  Good, 
0^-''''^i^.\  *.. /Or  Change  admits,  or  Nature  lets  it  fall ;  1 15 

'\5L^    /  Short,  and  but  rare,  till  Man  improved  it  all.^ 
We  just  as  wisely  might  of  Heav'n  complain 
That  righteous  Abel  was  destroy'd  by  Cain, 
As  that  the  virtuous  son  is  ill  at  ease 

When  his  lewd  father  gave  the  dire  disease.  120 

Think  we,  like  some  weak  Prince,  th'  Eternal  Cause 
Prone  for  his  fav'rites  to  reverse  his  laws? 
Shall  burning  ^tna,^  if  a  sage  requires, 
^    Forget  to  thunder,  and  recall  her  fires? 

On  air  or  sea  new  motions  be  imprest,  125 

^y^'^"  Oh  blameless  Bethel!"^  to  relieve  thy  breast? 

When  the  loose  mountain  trembles  from  on  high, 
Shall  gravitation  cease,  if  you  go  by  ? 
Or  some  old  temple,  nodding  to  its  fall, 

J  [The  Hon.  Robert  Digby,  third  son  of  Lord  ^  After  v.  116,  in  the  MS. 

Digby,  who  died  in  1724.    See  Epitaph  vii.  and  *  Of  ev'ry  evil,  since  the  world  began, 

Note.]  The  real  source  is  not  in  God,  but  man.* 

"^  Marseille's  good  bishop. "l     M.  de  Belsance  Warburton. 

was  made  bishop  of  Marseilles  in  1709.     In  the  ^  Shall  burning  y^tna,  &'c.'\     Alluding  to 

plague  of  that  city,  in  the  year  1720,  he  distin-  the  fate  of  those  two  great  Naturalists,  Emped- 

guished  himself  by  his  zeal  and  activity,  being  ocles  and  Pliny,  who  both  perished  by  too  near 

the  pastor,  the  physician,  and  the  magistrate  of  an  approach  to  iEtna  and  Vesuvius,  while  they 

his  flock,  whilst  ^that  horrid  calamity  prevailed,  were  exploring  the  cause  of  their  eruptions. 

[After  receiving  extraordinary  distinctions  in  Warburton. 

recognition  of  his  services  both  from  the  Pope  "^  Pope  seems  to  hint  at  this  passage  in  a  let- 

and  King  Louis  XV.]    He  died  in  the  year  1755.  ter  written  to  Mr.  Bethel,  soon  after  the  death 

Warton.  of  his  mother:   *I  have  now  too  much  melan- 

[*  I  believe  your  prayers  will  do  me  more  good  choly  leisure,  and  no  other  care  but  to  finish 

than  those  of  all  the  Prelates  in  both  kingdoms,  my  Essay  on  Man.     There  will  be  in  it  but  one 

or  any  Prelates  in  Europe  except  the  Bishop  of  line  that  will  offend  you  (I  fear),  and  yet  I  will 

Marseilles.*     Swift  to  Pope,  May  12,  1735.]  not  alter  it  or  omit  it,  unless  you  come  to  town 

3  Warton  refers   to  Dryden's  Miscellanies,  and  prevent  it.     It  is  all  a  poor  Poet  can  do,  to 

V.  6.]  bear  testimony  to  the  virtue  he  cannot  reach.' 

*  The  mother  of  the  author,  a  person  of  great  Rjiffhead.     [Mr.   Hugh   Bethell,   a   Yorkshire 

piety  and  charity,  died  the  year  this  poem  was  gentleman  and  one  of  Pope's  intimate  friends, 

finished,  viz.  1733.     Warburton.     [For  Pope's  to  whom  the  Imitation  of  the  Second  Satire  oj 

relations  to  his  mother,  see  Introductory  Me-  the  Second  Book  of  Horace  is  addressed.     See 

moir.^  note  to  this  Imit.\ 


1^ 


ESSAY  ON  MAN.  223 

For  Chartres^  head  reserve  the  hanging  wall?^  130 

But  still  this  world  (so  fitted  for  the  knave) 

Contents  us  not.     A  better  shall  we  have? 

A  kingdom  of  the  Just  then  let  it  be : 

But  first  consider  how  those  Just  agree. 

The  good  must  merit  God's  peculiar  care ;  •  135 

But  who,  but  God,  can  tell  us  who  they  are? 

One  thinks  on  Calvin  Heaven's  own  spirit  fell ; 

Another  deems  him  instrument  of  hell ; 

If  Calvin  feel  Heav'n^s  blessing,  or  its  rod, 

This  cries  there  is,  and  that,  there  is  no  God.  140 

What  shocks  one  part  will  edify  the  rest, 

Nor  with  one  system  can  they  all  be  blest. 

The  very  best  will  variously  incline. 

And  what  rewards  your  Virtue,  punish  mine. 

Whatever  is,  is  right.  —  This  world,  'tis  true,  145 

Was  made  for  Caesar  —  but  for  Titus  too  : 

And  which- more  blest?  who  chained  his  country,  say, 

Or  he  whose  Virtue  sigh'd  to  lose  a  day?^ 

"  But  sometimes  Virtue  starves,  while  Vice  is  fed." 

What  then?     Is  the  reward  of  Virtue  bread?  150 

That,  Vice  may  merit,  't  is  the  price  of  toil ; 

The  knave  deserves  it,  when  he  tills  the  soil, 
..    •     The  knave  deserves  it,  when  he  tempts  the  main. 

Where  Folly  fights  for  kings,  or  dives  for  gain. 

The  good  man  may  be  weak,  be  indolent ;  155 

Nor  is  his  claim  to  plenty,  but  content. 

But  grant  him  Riches,  your  demand  is  o'er? 

"  No  —  shall  the  good  want  Health,  the  good  want  Pow*r  ?  " 

Add  Health,  and  Pow'r,  and  ev'ry  earthly  thing, 

"Why  bounded  Pow'r?  why  private?  why  no  king?"  160 

Nay,  why  external  for  internal  giv'n  ? 

Why  is  not  Man  a  God,  and  Earth  a  Heav'n? 

Who  ask  and  reason  thus,  will  scarce  conceive 

God  gives  enough,  while  he  has  more  to  give : 

Immense  the  pow'r,  immense  were  the  demand ;  165 

Say,  at  what  part  of  nature  will  they  stand  ? 
What  nothing  earthly  gives,  or  can  destroy. 

The  souPs  calm  sunshine,  and  the  heart-felt  joy, 

Is  Virtue's  prize  :  A  better  would  you  fix  ? 

Then  give  humility  a  coach  and  six,  170 

Justice  a  Conq'ror's  sword,  or  Truth  a  gown. 

Or  Public  Spirit  its  great  cure,  a  Crown. 
^  /  Weak,  foolish  man!  will  Heav'n  reward  us  there 
"^  VWith  the  same  trash  mad  mortals  wish  for  here? 

1  Eusebius  is  weak  enough  to  relate,  from  the  Warton.     [For  Pope's  own  sketch  of  the  char- 
testimonies  of  Irenaeus  and  Polycarp,  that  the  acter  of  Chartres,  see  his  note  to  ^t?ra/ £waj)/f, 
roof   of    the    building   under  which   Cerinthus  in.  20.] 
the  heretic  was  bathing,  providentially  fell  down         2  [Sueton.     Titus,  c.  8.] 
and  crushed  him  to  death.    Lib.  in.  cap.  29. 


224  ESSAY  ON  MAN. 

The  Boy  and  Man  an  individual  makes,^  175 

Yet  sigh'st  thou  now  for  apples  and  for  cakes? 

Go,  like  the  Indian,^  in  another  life 

Expect  thy  dog,  thy  bottle,  and  thy  wife : 

As  well  as  dream  such  trifles  are  assigned, 

As  toys  and  empires,  for  a  god-like  mind.  180 

Rewards,  that  either  would  to  Virtue  bring 

No  joy,  or  be  destructive  of  the  thing : 

How  oft  by  these  at  sixty  are  undone 

The  Virtues  of  a  saint  at  twenty-one! 

To  whom  can  Riches  give  Repute,  or  Trust,  185 

Content,  or  Pleasure,  but  the  Good  and  Just? 

Judges  and  Senates  have  been  bought  for  gold, 

Esteem  and  Love  were  never  to  be  sold. 

Oh  fool!  to  think  God  hates  the  worthy  mind, 

The  lover  and  the  love  of  human-kind,  190 

Whose  life  is  healthful,  and  whose  conscience  clear, 

Because  he  wants  a  thousand  pounds  a  year. 

Honour  and  shame  from  no  Condition  rise; 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honour  lies. 
Fortune  in  Men  has  some  small  diif'rence  made,  195 

One  flaunts  in  rags,  one  flutters  in  brocade ; 
The  cobbler  apronM,  and  the  parson  gownM, 
The  friar  hooded,  and  the  monarch  crown'd. 
"What  differ  more  (you  cry)  than  crown  and  cowl?" 
I  '11  tell  you,  friend !  a  wise  man  and  a  Fool.  200 

You  '11  find,  if  once  the  monarch  acts  the  monk, 
Or,  cobbler-like,  the  parson  will  be  drunk, 
Worthmakes  the  man,  and  want  of  it,  the  fellow; 
The  rest  is  all  but  leather  or  prunella.^ 

Stuck  o'er  with  titles  and  hung  round  with  strings,  205 

That  thou  may'st  be  by  kings,  or  whores  of  kings.'* 
Boast  the  pure  blood  of  an  illustrious  race. 
In  quiet  flow  from  Lucrece  to  Lucrece  :  ^ 
But  by  your  fathers'  worth  if  yours  you  rate, 
Count  me  those  only  who  were  good  and  great.  210 

Go!  if  your  ancient,  but  ignoble  blood 
Has  crept  thro'  scoundrels  ever  since  the  flood, 
Go!  and  pretend  your  family  is  young; 
Nor  own,  your  fathers  have  been  fools  so  long. 
What  can  ennoble  sots,  or  slaves,  or  cowards?  215 

>  Alas!  not  all  the  blood  of  all  the  Howards. 
.^J^^'      Look  next  on  Greatness  ;  say  where  Greatness  lies? 
Ua^»      .    "Where,  but  among  the  Heroes  and  the  wise? " 

1  [Tke  Boy  and  Man,  i.e.  the  conjunction  of  ^  [prunella  ;    because    clergymen's    gowns 
boy  and  man;  hence  the  verb  is  properly  in  the  were  often  made  of  this  kind  of  stuff.] 
singular.]  *  [That  is  here  the  demonstrative.] 

2  Go,  like  the  Indian^  ^r'c.'l  Alluding  to  ^  These  two  lines  are  taken  from  Boileau 
the  example  of  the  Indian  in  Epist.  i.  v.  99.  {Sat.  v.  vv.  85-6.)  IVarton.  [Hence  the 
Warburton.  French  pronunciation  of  the  name  Lucrece.} 


ESSAV  ON  MAN.  225 

Heroes  are  much  the  same,  the  point 's  agreed, 
From  Macedonia's  madman  to  the  Swede  ;  ^  220 

The  whole  strange  purpose  of  their  Hves,  to  find 
Or  make,  an  enemy  of  all  mankind! 
Not  one  looks  backward,  onward  still  he  goes, 
Yet  ne'er  looks  forward  farther  than  his  nose. 
No  less  alike  the  Politic  and  Wise ;  225 

All  sly  slow  things,  with  circumspective  eyes : 
Men  in  their  loose  unguarded  hours  they  take. 
Not  that  themselves  are  wise,  but  others  weak. 
But  grant  that  those  can  conquer,  these  can  cheat ; 
'T  is  phrase  absurd  to  call  a  Villain  Great :  230 

Who  wickedly  is  wise,  or  madly  brave, 
.,,-Js  but  the  more  a  fool,  the  more  a  knave. 
,_fi,';  \    Who  noble  ends  by  noble  means  obtains, 
\N ^^^ij'     Q^  failing,  smiles  in  exile  or  in  chains, 

Like  good  Aurelius  ^  let  him  reign,  or  bleed  235 

Like  Socrates,^  that  Man  is  great  indeed. 
What 's  Fame  ?   a  fancy'd  life  in  others'  breath, 
,j    A  thilig~Heyond  us,  ev'n  before  our  death. 
/"^J^J  Just  what  you  hear,  you  have,  and  what's  unknown 
A^^    The  same  (my  Lord)  if  TuUy's,  or  your  own.  240 

All  that  we  feel  of  it  begins  and  ends 
In  the  small  circle  of  our  foes  or  friends  ; 
To  all  beside  as  much  an  empty  shade 
An  Eugene  living,^  as  a  Caesar  dead ; 

Alike  or  when,  or  where,  they  shone,  or  shine,  245 

Or  on  the  Rubicon,  or  on  the  Rhine. 
A  Wit 's  a  feather,  and  a  Chief  a  rod  ;  ^ 
An  h pnest  Manjs  thejioblest  work  of  God . * 

1  [It  is  of  course  only  a  shallow  misconcep-  Voltaire's  Histoire  de  Charles  XII.  had  ap- 

tion  of  a  great  historical   character  which  can  peared  in  1730.] 

view  Alexander  the  Great  as  a  madman,  or  (see  2  [Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus  reigned  from 

ante,  Ep.  i.  v.  160)  as  the  scourge  of  mankind.  161  to  180  a.d.     Whatever  may  have  been  the 

He  was  *  great,'  says  Thirlwall,  '  not  merely  in  errors  of  judgment  into  which  he  was  led  by  the 

the  vast  compass,  and  the  persevering  ardour,  *  unsuspecting  goodness  of  his  heart  *  (Gibbon), 

of  his  ambition:    nor  in  the  qualities  by  which  his   character   remains   one   of  the  purest   and 

he  was  enabled  to  gratify  it,  and  to  crowd  so  noblest  in  the  history  of  the  Empire  of  which 

many  memorable  actions  within  so  short  a  pe-  he  witnessed  the  first  Decline.     A  comparison, 

riod:  but  in  the  course  which  his  ambition  took,  says  Merivale,  'might  be  drawn  with  unusual 

in  the  collateral  aims  which  ennobled  and  puri-  precision  between  the  wise,  the  virtuous,  the 

fied  it,  so  that  it  almost  grew  into  one  with  the  much-suffering  Aurelius,  and  our  own  great  and 

highest  of  which  man  is  capable,  the  desire  of  good  King  Alfred.'] 

knowledge,  and  the  love  of  good.     In  a  word,  ^  Considering  the  manner  in  which  Socrates 

great  as  one  of  the  benefactors  of  his  kind.'  was  put  to  death,  the  word  *  bleed  *  seems  to  be 

Warton  justly  observes  that  *  Charles  XII.  de-  improperly  used.     Warton. 

served  not  to  be  joined  with  him:  Charles  XII.  *  [Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy,  the  commander 

tore  out  the  leaf  in  which  Boileau  had  censured  of  the  Imperial  armies  in  the  war  of  the  Spanish 

Alexander.'    Charles  XII.  was  with  admirable  Succession,  and  the  joint  hero  with  Marlborough 

tact  substituted  by  Johnson  in  his  Vanity  of  of  Blenheim  and  Malplaquet.] 

Human    Wishes    for    Juvenal's    Hannibal    to  ^  [i.e.  a  mere  scourge,  as  was  said  of  Attila.] 

*  point   the  moral '  of  the  vanity  of  ambition.  ^  noble ^  for  noblest,  in  Warburton's  edition, 


:^^ 


226  ESSAV  OAT  MA  AT. 

Fame  but  from  death  a  villain's  name  can  save, 

As  Justice  tears  his  body  from  the  grave ;  250 

When  what  t'  oblivion  better  were  resigned, 

Is  hung  on  high,  to  poison  half  mankind. 

All  fame  is  foreign,  but  of  true  desert ; 

Plays  round  the  head,  but  comes  not  to  the  heart : 

One  self-approving  hour  whole  years  out-weighs  255 

Of  stupid  starers,  and  of  loud  huzzas  ; 

And  more  true  joy  Marcellus  exiPd  feels,^ 

Than  Caesar  with  a  senate  at  his  heels. 

In  Parts  superior  what  advantage  lies? 
Tell  (for  You  can)  what  is  it  to  be  wise?  260 

'Tis  but  to  know  how  little  can  be  known  ^ 
To  see  all  others'  faults,  and  feel  our  own : 
Condemned  in  business  or  in  arts  to  drudge, 
Without  a  second,  or  without  a  judge : 

Truths  would  you  teach,  or  save  a  sinking  land  265 

All  fear,  none  aid  you,  and  few  understand. 
Painful  pre-eminence !  yourself  to  view 
Above  life's  weakness,  and  its  comforts  too. 

Bring  then  these  blessings  to  a  strict  account ; 
Make  fair  deductions  ;  see  to  what  they  mount :  270 

How  much  of  other  each  is  sure  to  cost ; 
How  each  for  other  oft  is  wholly  lost ; 
How  inconsistent  greater  goods  with  these ; 
How  sometimes  life  is  risk'd,  and  always  ease : 
Think,  and  if  still  the  things  thy  envy  call,^  275 

Say,  would'st  thou  be  the  Man  to  whom  they  fall? 
To  sigh  for  ribbands  if  thou  art  so  silly, 
Mark  how  they  grace  Lord  Umbra,^  or  Sir  Billy : 
Is  yellow  dirt  the  passion  of  thy  life? 

Is  obviously  a  misprint.   Mr.  Darley,  in  his  Intro-  Dictator  by  his  friends,  Cicero   making  in  his 

duction  to  the  works  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  behalf  an  oration  conceived  in  a  very  different 

points  out  that  Fletcher,  in  his  poem  of  ^  « //^«-  spirit   from  that  which   Pope   attributes  to  the 

est  Man's  Fortune,  gave  the  same  criterion  of  orator's  client.     Its   genuineness   has   however 

human  perfection:  been  doubted.     Marcellus  was   assassinated  at 

*  Man  is  his  own  star;  and  that  soul  that  can  Athens  on  his  way  home,]     By  Marcellus,  Pope 
Be  honest,  is  the  only  perfect  man.'  was  said  to  mean  the  Duke  of  Ormond.      War- 

*  If,'  adds  Mr.  Darley,  'Pope  stole  this  aph-  ton.  [The  Duke  of  Ormond,  as  commander  of 
orism,  he  should  have  improved  it,  for  it  is  false,  the  English  forces  in  Flanders,  refused  to  act 
and  degrading  to  man,  derogatory  to  God.  An  on  the  offensive  against  the  enemy  with  Prince 
honest  man  is  no  more  the  noblest  work  of  God  Eugene,  and  drew  off  with  20,000  men  from  the 
than  an  honest  book  is  the  noblest  of  a  writer;  allied  army.  In  171 5  he  disappointed  the  hopes 
an  honest  able  book  is  nobler  than  a  dull  book  of  the  Jacobites  by  his  precipitate  flight  to 
be  it  ever  so  honest.  .  .  .  Fletcher  came  nearer  France;  was  attainted;  and  after  Bolingbroke's 
the  truth  elsewhere  (in  the  Triumph  of  Love,  dismissal  became  Secretary  of  State  to  the  Pre- 
Sc.  2) :  "  An  honest  able  man  's  a  prince's  tender,  whose  cause  his  rash  counsels  helped 
mate." ']  finally  to  ruin.] 

1  [M.  Marcellus,  one  of  the  most  determined         2  \call,   i.e.   demand.     So  again,   infra,  v. 

opponents  of  Julius  Caesar,  had  fled  to  Mitylene  285.] 

after  the  battle  of  Pharsalus ;   and  as  he  dared  ^  ^Lord  Umbra,  or  Sir   Billy,  see  Ep.  to 

not  himself  solicit  pardon,  it  was  asked  of  the  Arbuthnot,  v.  280  and  Note.] 


ESSAY  ON  MAN.  227 

Look  but  on  Gripus  or  on  Gripus'  wife  :  ^  280 

If  Parts  allure  thee,  think  how  Bacon  shin'd, 

The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind  :  ^._,,^*— ^^ 

Or  ravish'd  with  the  whistling  of  a  Name,* 

See  Cromwell,  damn'd  to  everlasting  fame! 

If  all,  united,  thy  ambition  call,  285 

From  ancient  story  learn  to  scorn  them  all. 

There,  in  the  rich,  the  honoured,  fam'd,  and  great, 

See  the  false  scale  of  Happiness  complete! 

In  hearts  of  Kings,  or  arms  of  Queens  who  lay, 

How  happy!  those  to  ruin,  these  betray.  290 

Mark  by  what  wretched  steps  their  glory  grows. 

From  dirt  and  sea-weed  as  proud  Venice  rose ;  * 

In  each  how  guilt  and  greatness  equal  ran, 

And  all  that  rais'd  the  Hero,  sunk  the  Man : 

Now  Europe's  laurels  on  their  brows  behold,  295 

But  stain'd  with  blood,  or  ill  exchanged  for  gold ; 

Then  see  them  broke  with  toils,  or  sunk  in  ease, 

Or  infamous  for  plundered  provinces.^ 

Oh  wealth  ill-fated!  which  no  act  of  fame 

E'er  taught  to  shine,  or  sanctify'd  from  shame!  300 

What  greater  bliss  attends  their  close  of  life? 

Some  greedy  minion,  or  imperious  wife. 

The  trophy'd  arches,  story'd  halls  invade 

And  haunt  their  slumbers  in  the  pompous  shade. 

Alas !  not  dazzled  with  their  noon-tide  ray,  305 

Compute  the  morn  and  ev'ning  to  the  day ; 

The  whole  amount  of  that  enormous  fame, 
-    A  Tale,  that  blends  their  glory  with  their  shame ! 
A,  0-^^\      Know  then  this  truth  (enough  for  Man  to  know) 
xj-'"    'j^    "  Virtue  alone  is  Happiness  below."  310 

^/^♦"t^  T\i^  only  point  where  human  bliss  stands  still, 

And  tastes  the  good  without  the  fall  ^  to  ill ; 

Where  only  Merit  constant  pay  receives, 

Is  blest  in  what  it  takes,  and  what  it  gives ; 

1  [The  name  Gripus  translates  that  of  Har-  called  Lagune,  where  the  inhabitants  of  the  great 
pagon,  the  hero  of  Moli^re's  Avare.    Gripe  is  cities  of  Venetia  had  taken  refuge  from  the  Huns 
a  character  in  Vanbrugh's  Confederacy y  whose  three  centuries  and  a  half  before  that  date.] 
wife  spends  his  money.]  ^  In  the  MSS.  it  was  thus: 

2  That  part  of  Macaulay's  brilliant  essay  on  — *  or  sunk  in  years, 
Bacon,  which  may  be  described  as  a  paraphrase            Lost  in  unmeaning,  unrepenting  tears.' 

of  the  above  famous  line,  has  been  criticised  by  Meaning  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who 

many  writers,  by  none  more  keenly   than  by  sunk  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  into  a  state  of 

Kuno    Fischer    (whose    book  has  been    trans-  perfect  childhood  and  dotage.     Warton.     [The 

lated  into  English  by  Mr.  Oxenford)  with  the  personal  allusion  is  clear  from  the  references  to 

object  of  showing  the  fallacy  involved  in  the  the  *  wealth  ill-fated '  and  the  *  imperious  wife.' 

antithesis.]  See  note  to  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  ii.  v.  115.     This 

3  From  Cowley,  in  his  imitation  of  Virgil ;  passage  probably  contains  the  gist  of  the  char- 
*  Charm'd  with  the  foolish  whistlings  of  a  name.'  acter  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  suppressed 

Warton.        by  Pope.    As  to  the  cause  of  this  suppression 
*  [The  city  of  Venice  was  built  in  809  on  the    see  Introductory  Memoir. ^ 
island  of  the  Rialto,  in  the  midst  of  the  marshes         '^  {without  the/all^  i.e.  without  inclining.] 


228  ESSAV  ON  MAN. 

The  joy  unequall'd,  if  its  end  it  gain,  31 5 

And  if  it  lose,  attended  with  no  pain :  ^ 

Without  satiety,  tho'  e'er  so  bless'd, 

And  but  more  relish'd  as  the  more  distressed : 

The  broadest  mirth  unfeeling  Folly  wears, 

Less  pleasing  far  than  Virtue's  very  tears  :  320 

Good,  from  each  object,  from  each  place  acquired, 

For  ever  exercis'd,  yet  never  tir'd ; 

Never  elated,  while  one  man  's  oppressed ; 

Never  dejected,  while  another  's  bless'd ; 

And  where  no  wants,  no  wishes  can  remain,  325 

Since  but  to  wish  more  Virtue,  is  to  gain. 

See  the  sole  bhss  Heav'n  could  on  all  bestow! 
Which  who  but  feels  can  taste,  but  thinks  can  know : 
Yet  poor  with  fortune,  and  with  learning  blind, 
The  bad  must  miss  ;  the  good,  untaught,  will  find ;  330 

\^^lave  to  no  sect,  who  takes  no  private  road. 


itgut  looks  thro'  Nature  up  to  Nature's  God ;  2 
e  .      }  J  {Pursues  that  Chain  which  links  th'  immense  ue: 
tA^^J^t*-*'  '     Joins  heav'n  and  earth,  and  mortal  and  divine ; 


A^ 


Sees,  that  no  Being  any  bliss  can  know,  335 

But  touches  some  above,  and  some  below ; 
Learns,  from  this  union  of  the  rising  Whole, 
The  first,  last  purpose  of  the  human  soul ; 
/'And  knows,  where  Faith,  Law,  Morals,  all  began, 
^wl  end,  in  Love  of  God,  and  Love  of  Man.  340 

For  him  alone,  Hope  leads  from  goal  to  goal, 
And  opens  still,  and  opens  on  his  soul ;  ^ 
'Till  lengthen'd  on  to  Faith,  and  unconfin'd. 

Jit  pours  the  bliss  that  fills  up  all  the  mind. 
H^  sees,  why  Nature  plants  in  Man  alone  345 

Hope  of  known  bliss,  and  Faith  in  bliss  unknown : 
(Nature,  whose  dictates  to  no  other  kind 
Are  giv'n  in  vain,  but  what  they  seek  they  find ;) 
Wise  in  her  present ;  she  connects  in  this 
His  greatest  Virtue  with  his  greatest  Bliss ;  350 

At  once  his  own  bright  prospect  to  be  blest, 
And  strongest  motive  to  assist  the  rest. 
Self-love  thus  push'd  to  social,  to  divine, 
fvgr  4***^  Gives  thee  to  make  thy  neighbour's  blessing  thine. 

V     ^    0^  Is  this  too  little  for  the  boundless  heart?  355 

1  After  V.  316  in  the  MS.  2  Verbatim    from    Bolingbroke's    Letters    to 

*  Ev'n  while  it  seems  unequal  to  dispose,  Pope.     Wartoii. 
And  checquers  all  the  good  Man's  joys  with         ^  [Warburton  compares  Plato  de  Republ.  i. 

woes,  c.  5,  in  which  a  beautiful  passage  is  quoted  from 

'T  is  but  to  teach  him  to  support  each  state,  Pindar   {Fragin.    130;    and    Euripides,   Here. 

With  patience  this,  with  moderation  that;  Ftcr.  vv.  105-6).    The  sublimation  of  Hope  into 

And  raise  his  base  on  that  one  solid  joy,  -  Faith,  of  which  Pope  speaks,  constitutes  the  cli- 

Which  conscience  gives,  and  nothing  can  de-  max  of  Campbell's  noble  poem.  J 

stroy.'  Warbtirton. 


.£■ 


ESSAY  ON  MAISr.  229 

Extend  it,  let  thy  enemies  have  part : 

Grasp  the  whole  worlds  of  Reason,  Life,  and  Sense, 

In  one  close  system  of  Benevolence : 

Happier  as  kinder,  in  whatever  degree. 

And  height  of  Bliss  but  height  of  Charity.  360 

God  loves  from  Whole  to  Parts  :  but  human  soul 
Must  rise  from  Individual  to  the  Whole. 
- '-       '  Self-love  but  serves  the  virtuous  mind  to  wake, 
As  the  small  pebble  stirs  the  peaceful  lake ; 
The  centre  mov'd,  a  circle  straight  succeeds,  365 

Another  still,  and  still  another  spreads  ;  ^ 
Friend,  parent,  neighbour,  first  it  will  embrace ; 
His  country  next ;  and  next  all  human  race ; 
Wide  and  more  wide,  th'  o'erflowings  of  the  mind 
Take  ev'ry  creature  in,  of  evVy  kind ;  370 

Earth  smiles  around,  with  boundless  bounty  blest, 
And  Heaven  beholds  its  image  in  his  breast. 

Come  then,  my  Friend !  my  Genius !  come  along ; 
Oh  master  of  the  poet,  and  the  song! 

And  while  the  Muse  now  stoops,  or  now  ascends,  375 

To  Man's  low  passions,  or  their  glorious  ends, 
^OTeach  me,  like  thee,  in  various  nature  wise, 
To  fall  with  dignity,  with  temper  rise ; 
Eorm'd  by  thy  converse,  happily  to  steer 

From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe ;  380 

Correct  with  spirit,  eloquent  with  ease. 
Intent  to  reason,  or  polite  to  please. 
Oh !  while  along  the  stream  of  Time  thy  name 
Expanded  flies,  and  gathers  all  its  fame, 
^  Say,  shall  my  little  bark  attendant  sail,  385 

Pursue  the  triumph,  and  partake  the  gale  ? 
When  statesmen,  heroes,  kings,  in  dust  repose, 
Whose  sons  shall  blush  their  fathers  were  thy  foes, 
Shall  then  this  verse  to  future  age  pretend 
Thou  wert  my  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend?  390 

That  urg'd  by  thee,  I  turnM  the  tuneful  art 
From  sounds  to  things,  from  fancy  to  the  heart ; 
For  Wit's  false  mirror  held  up  Nature's  light ; 
Shew'd  erring^iHe,  whatever  is,  is  right  ; 
i-~    That  Reason,  Passion,  answer  one  great  aim  ;  395 

That  true  Self-love  and  Social  are  the  same; 
That  Virtue  only  makes  our  Bliss  below ; 
And  all  our  Knowledge  is,  ourselves  to  know. 2 

*  Pope  took  the  simile  of  the  Lake  from  Chau-         2  That  Virtue  only,  &^tr.]     In  the  MS.  thus, 
cer,  whose  House  of  Fame  he  had  imitated.  *  That  just  to  find  a  God  is  all  we  can 

(Book  II,  vv.  280  ff.)     Bowles.  And  all  the  Study  of  Mankind  is  Man.' 

Warburton, 


230  THE  UNIVERSAL  PRAYER. 

THE   UNIVERSAL   PRAYER.i 
DEO   OPT.   MAX. 

[The  Universal  Prayer,  put  forth  in  1738,  may  be  fairly  ascribed  to  Pope's  desire  to 
avail  himself  of  the  Commentary  of  Warburton,  which  had  been  designed  to  show  that 
the  system  developed  in  the  Essay  on  Man  recognises  freewill  and  does  not  logically 
tend  to  the  establishment  of  fatalism.  It  can  hardly  be  called  a  Paraphrase  of  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  which  it  only  follows  at  the  commencement,  and  in  the  last  four  stanzas. 
Warton  states  that  the  prayer  was  by  'many  orthodox  persons'  called  the  Deist's 
Prayer,  and  that  on  account  of  translating  it  a  French  advocate,  Le  Franc  de  Pom- 
pignan,  incurred  a  reprimand  from  the  Chancellor  Aguesseau.] 


FATHER  of  All !  in  evVy  Age, 
In  ev'ry  Clime  adord, 
By  Saint,  by  Savage,  and  by  Sage, 
Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord! 

Thou  Great  First  Cause,  least  understood :  5 

Who  all  my  Sense  confined 
To  know  but  this,  that  Thou  art  Good, 

And  that  myself  am  blind ; 

Yet  gave  me,  in  this  dark  Estate, 

To  see  the  Good  from  111 ;  10 

And  binding  Nature  fast  in  Fate, 

Left  free  the  Human  Will.^ 

What  Conscience  dictates  to  be  done. 

Or  warns  me  not  to  do. 
This,  teach  me  more  than  Hell  to  shun,  15 

That,  more  than  Heav'n  pursue. 

1  Universal    Prayer.]       Concerning    this  the  Lord's  Prayer,  which  of  all  others,  best 

poem,  it  may  be  proper  to  observe,  that  some  deserves  the  title  prefixed  to  this  Paraphrase, 

passages,  in  the  preceding  Essay,  having  been  Warburton. 

unjustly  suspected  of  a  tendency  towards  Fate  2  Originally  Pope  had  written  another  stanza, 

and   Naturalism,  the   author  composed    this  immediately  after  this: 

Prayer  as  the  sum  of  all,  to  shew  that  his  sys-  *  Can  sins  of  moments  claim  the  rod 

tem  was  founded  \n  free-will,  and   terminated  Of  everlasting  fires? 

in  piety;    That  the  First  Cause  was  as  well  the  And  that  offend  great  Nature's  God 

Lord  and  Governor  of  the  Universe  as  the  Crea-  Which  Nature's  self  inspires? ' 

tor  of  it ;  and  that,  by  submission  to  his  will  (the  Warton. 

great  Principle  inforced  throughout  the  Essay)  [This   *  licentious    stanza '    was,    according    to 

was  not  meant  the  suffering  ourselves  to  be  car-  Mrs.  Piozzi,  discovered  by  a  curious  clergyman 

ricd  along  with  a  blind  determination;  but  a  re-  (whose   name  seems  to  have  been  Dr.  Lort) ; 

ligious  acquiescence,  and  confidence  full  of  Ho/>e  and  the  idea  was  traced  by  Johnson  to  Guarini's 

and  Immortality.     To  give  all  this  the  greater  Pastor  Fido.] 
weight  and  reality,  the  poet  chose  for  his  model 


THE  UNIVERSAL  PRAYER,  231 

What  Blessings  thy  free  Bounty  gives, 

Let  me  not  cast  away ; 
For  God  is  payM  when  Man  receives, 

T'  enjoy  is  to  obey.  20 

Yet  not  to  Earth's  contracted  Span 

Thy  Goodness  let  me  bound, 
Or  think  Thee  Lord  alone  of  Man, 

When  thousand  Worlds  are  round : 

Let  not  this  weak,  unknowing  hand  25 

Presume  thy  bolts  to  throw, 
And  deal  damnation  round  the  land, 

On  each  I  judge  thy  Foe. 

If  I  am  right,  thy  grace  impart, 

Still  in  the  right  to  stay ;  30 

If  I  am  wrong,  oh  teach  my  heart 

To  find  that  better  way. 

Save  me  alike  from  foolish  Pride, 

Or  impious  Discontent, 
At  aught  thy  Wisdom  has  deny'd,  35 

Or  aught  thy  Goodness  lent. 

Teach  me  to  feel  another's  Woe, 

To  hide  the  Fault  I  see ; 
That  Mercy  I  to  others  show, 

That  Mercy  show  to  me.  40 

Mean  tho'  I  am,  not  wholly  so. 

Since  quick'ned  by  thy  Breath ; 
Oh  lead  me  wheresoever  I  go. 

Thro'  this  day's  Life  or  Death. 

This  day,  be  Bread  and  Peace  my  Lot :  45 

All  else  beneath  the  Sun, 
Thou  know'st  if  best  bestow'd  or  not ; 

And  let  Thy  Will  be  done. 

To  thee,  whose  Temple  is  all  Space, 

Whose  Altar  Earth,  Sea,  Skies,  50 

Ooe  Chorus  let  all  Being  raise. 

All  Nature's  Incense  rise! 


232  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

MORAL   ESSAYS, 
IN  FOUR  EPISTLES   TO   SEVERAL  PERSONS. 

Est  brevitate  opus,  ut  currat  sententia,  neu  se 
Impcdiat  verbis  lassis  onerantibus  aures: 
Et  sermone  opus  est  modo  tristi,  saepe  jocoso, 
Defendente  vicem  modo  Rhetoris  atque  Poetse, 
Interdum  urbani,  parcentis  viribus,  atque 
Extenuantis  eas  consultb.  —  Hor.  \^Sat.  i.  x.  17-22.] 

EPISTLE   I. 
To  Sir  Richard  Temple,  Lord  Cobham.i 

ARGUMENT. 

Of  the  Knowledge  and  Characters  of  Men. 

I.  THA  Tit  is  not  sufficient  for  this  knowledge  to  consider  Man  in  the  Abstract :  Books 
will  not  serve  the  purpose,  nor  yet  our  own  Experience  singly,  v.  i.  General  maxims, 
unless  they  be  formed  upon  both,  will  be  but  notional,  v.  10.  Some  Peculiarity  in  every 
man,  characteristic  to  himself,  yet  varying  from  himself  v.  15.  Difficulties  arising  from 
our  own  Passions,  Fancies,  Faculties,  &c.  v.  31.  The  shortness  of  Life,  to  observe  in,  and 
the  uncertainty  of  the  Principles  of  action  in  men,  to  observe  by,  v.  37,  &c.  Our  own 
Principle  of  action  often  hid  from  ourselves,  v.  41.  Some  few  Characters  plain,  but  in 
general  confounded,  dissembled,  or  inconsistent,  v.  51.  The  same  man  utterly  different  in 
different  places  and  seasons,  v.  71.  Unimaginable  weaknesses  in  the  greatest,  v.  70,  &c. 
Nothing  constant  and  certain  but  God  and  Nature,  v.  95.  No  judging  of  the  Motives  from 
the  actions ;  the  same  actions  proceeding  from  contrary  Motives^  and  the  same  Motives 
influencing  contrary  actions,  v.  100.  II.  Yet  to  form  Characters,  we  can  only  take  the 
strongest  actions  of  a  man^s  life,  and  try  to  make  them  agree  :  The  utter  uncertainty  of 
this,  from  Nature  itself,  and  from  Policy,  v.  120.  Characters  ^2X'<?«  according  to  the  rank 
of  men  of  the  world.,  v.  135.  And  some  reason  for  it,  v.  140.  Education  alters  the 
Nature,  or  at  least  Character  of  many,  v.  149.  Actions,  Passions,  Opinions,  Manners, 
Humours,  or  Principles  all  subject  to  change.  No  judging  by  Nature, //'^w  v.  158  to  178. 
III.  It  only  remains  to  find  {if  we  can)  his  RULING  PASSION:  That  will  certainly  influ- 
ence all  the  rest,  and  can  recoficile  the  seeming  or  real  inconsistency  of  all  his  actions,  v. 
175.  Instanced  in  the  extraordinary  character  of  Clodio,  v.  179.  A  caution  against 
mistaking  second  qualities  y»r  first,  which  will  destroy  mil  possibility  oftlie  knowledge  of 
mankind,  v.  210.  Examples  of  the  strength  of  the  Ruling  Passion,  and  its  continuation 
to  the  last  breath,  v.  222,  &c. 

1  [Sir  Richard  Temple,  created  Viscount  Cob-  Ing  to  Pope  from  Stowe  Nov.  i,  1733,  gracefully 

ham  by  George  I.  in  1718,  and   made  a  Field  says  that  *  though  he  has  not  modesty  enough 

Marshal  in  1742,  was  on   intimate   terms  with  to  be  pleased  with  the  extraordinary  compliment 

Pope  during  the  latter  part  of  the  Poet's  life,  paid  him,  he  has  wit  enough  to  know  how  little 

Pope  speaks,  in  his  last  letter  to  Swift,  of  '  gen-  he  deserves  it;  '  and  after  declaring  the  Epistle 

erally  rambling  in  the  summer  for  a  month  to  to  be  '  the  clearest  and  cleanest  of  all '  Pope  has 

Lord  Cobham's,  the  Bath,  or  elsewhere.'     (The  written,  recommends  a  judicious  alteration  of  a 

beauties  of  Lord  Cobham's   seat  at  Stowe  are  passage  which  might  have  militated  against  the 

enthusiastically  described  in  the  4th  of  these  applicability  of  one  of  these  epithets.] 
Epistles,  v.  70  and  foil.)     Lord  Cobham,  writ- 


MORAL  ESSAYS,  233 

YES,  you  despise  the  man  to  Books  confin'd, 
Who  from  his  study  rails  at  human  kind ; 
Tho'  what  he  learns  he  speaks,  and  may  advance 
Some  gen'ral  maxims,  or  be  right  by  chance. 
The  coxcomb  bird,  so  talkative  and  grave,^  5 

That  from  his  cage  cries  Cuckold,  Whore,  and  Knave, 
Tho'  many  a  passenger  he  rightly  call, 
You  hold  him  no  Philosopher  at  all. 

And  yet  the  fate  of  all  extremes  is  such. 
Men  may  be  read  as  v^ell  as  Books,  too  much.^  10 

To  observations  which  ourselves  we  make. 
We  grow  more  partial  for  th'  Observer's  sake ; 
To  written  Wisdom,  as  another's,  less  : 
Maxims  are  drawn  from  Notions,  these  from  Guess. 
There  's  some  Peculiar  in  each  leaf  and  grain,  15 

Some  unmark'd  fibre,  or  some  varying  vein : 
Shall  only  Man  be  taken  in  the  gross  ? 
Grant  but  as  many  sorts  of  Mind  as  Moss. 

That  each  fromjithejiilifiersy  first  confess  ; 
Nexfc^atile' varies  from_himself-no  less  :  20 

Add  Nature^Custbm's,  Reason's,  Passion's  strife, 
And  all  Opinion's  colours  cast  on  life. 

Our  depths  who  fathoms,  or  our  shallows  finds, 
Quick  whirls,  and  shifting  eddies,  of  our  minds  ? 
On  human  actions  reason  tho'  you  can,  25 

It  may  be  Reason,  but  it  is  not  Man : 
His  Principle  of  action  once  explore. 
That  instant  't  is  his  Principle  no  more. 
Like  following  life  thro'  creatures  you  dissect. 
You  lose  it  in  the  moment  you  detect.  30 

Yet  more  ;  the  diff 'rence  is  as  great  between 
The  optics  seeing,  as  the  object  seen. 
All  Manners  take  a  tincture  from  our  own ; 
Or  come  discolour'd  thro'  our  Passions  shown. 
Or  Fancy's  beam  enlarges,  multiplies,  35 

Contracts,  inverts,  and  gives  ten  thousand  dyes. 

Nor  will  Life's  stream  for  Observation  stay 
It  hurries  all  too  fast  to  mark  their  way : 
In  vain  sedate  reflections  we  would  make. 
When  half  our  knowledge  we  must  snatch,  not  take  40 

Oft,  in  the  Passions'  wild  rotation  tost. 
Our  spring  of  action  to  ourselves  is  lost : 
Tir'd,  not  determin'd,  to  the  last  we  yield, 

1  The  coxco77tb  bird,  &=c.'\  A  fine  turn'd  al-  2  '  gay  what  they  will  of  the  great  Book  of  the 
lusion  to  what  Philostratus  said  of  Euxenus,  the  World,  we  must  read  others  to  know  how  to  read 
Tutor  of  Apollonius,  that  he  could  only  repeat  that.'  Mad.  de  S^vign^  toM.  Rabutin.  War- 
some  sentences  of  Pythagoras,  like  those  cojt:-  ton.  [Warburton  thinks  that  the  passage  in  the 
comb  birds,  who  were  taught  their  eu  Trparre  text  covertly  refers  to  the  Maxims  of  Roche- 
and  their  Zeus  tA.etu?,  but  knew  not  what  they  foucault.] 
signified.     Warburton, 


234  MORAL  ESSAYS, 

And  what  comes  then  is  master  of  the  field. 

As  the  last  image  of  that  troubled  heap,  45 

When  Sense  subsides,  and  Fancy  sports  in  sleep, 

(Tho'  past  the  recollection  of  the  thought,) 

Becomes  the  stuff  of  which  our  dream  is  wrought : 

Something  as  dim  to  our  internal  view. 

Is  thus,  perhaps,  the  cause  of  most  we  do.  50 

True,  some  are  open,  and  to  all  men  known ;  • 
Others  so  very  close,  they  're  hid  from  none ; 
(So  Darkness  strikes  the  sense  no  less  than  Light) 
Thus  gracious  Chandos  ^  is  belov'd  at  sight ; 
And  ev'ry  child  hates  Shylock,  tho'  his  soul 
Still  sits  at  squat,  and  peeps  not  from  its  hole. 
At  half  mankind  when  gen'rous  Manly  raves,^ 
All  know  't  is  Virtue,  for  he  thinks  them  knaves : 
When  universal  homage  Umbra  pays,^ 

All  see  't  is  Vice,  and  itch  of  vulgar  praise.  60 

When  FlattVy  glares,  all  hate  it  in  a  Queen,* 
While  one  there  is  who  charms  us  with  his  Spleen.^ 

But  these  plain  Characters  we  rarely  find ; 
Tho'  strong  the  bent,  yet  quick  the  turns  of  mind  : 
Or  puzzling  Contraries  confound  the  whole ;  65 

Or  Affectations  quite  reverse  the  soul. 
The  Dull,  flat  Falsehood  serves  for  policy ; 
And  in  the  Cunning,  Truth  itself 's  a  lie : 
Unthought-of  Frailties  cheat  us  in  the  Wise ; 
The  Fool  lies  hid  in  inconsistencies.  70 

See  the  same  man,  in  vigour,  in  the  gout ; 
Alone,  in  company  ;  in  place,  or  out ; 
Early  at  Business,  and  at  Hazard  late ; 
Mad  at  a  Fox-chase,  wise  at  a  Debate ; 

Drunk  at  a  Borough,  civil  at  a  Ball ;  75 

Friendly  at  Hackney,  faithless  at  Whitehall. 

1  [James   Brydges,  first   Duke  of  Chandos,  Harley's  friends  and  35  millions  found  not  passed, 

for  whose  splendid  hospitality  and  supposed  per-  'about  14  of  these  belonged  to  the  Paymaster's 

sonal  munificence  to  Pope  the  latter  was  accused  department.     He  was  successfully  defended  by 

of  having  made  a  base  return  by  satirising  the  St,  John.] 

decorations  and  furniture  of  the  Duke's  house  2  [Manly  is  the  hero  of  Wycherley's  Plain 

at  Canons  in  the  Epistle  on  Taste ^  subsequently  Dealer,  a  coarse  caricature  of  the  Misanthrope 

entitled  0/ False  Taste,  and  finally  incorporated  of  Moliere.     The   play  and  character  were  so 

with  the  Moral  Essays  as  the  fourth  of  the  series,  popular,  that  the  author  himself  was  commonly 

under  the  same  title  as  the  third,  o/the  Use  of  known  by  the  flattering  title  of  Manly  Wycher- 

Riches.     See  Ep.  iv.  lines  97  and  foil.     Pope  ley.] 

denied  the  pecuniary  obligation,  and  defended  ^  [Umbra  is  Bubb  Doddington.     See  Epistle 

himself  against  the  charge  of  his  having  alluded  to  Arbuthnot,  v.  280.] 

to  the  Duke's  house.     The  Duke  accepted  the  *  [Supposed  to  refer  to  Queen  Caroline,  the 

explanation;    and  the  line  in  the  text  is  due  to  wife  of  George  II.,  who  was  also  the  subject  ot 

Pope's  recognition  of  the  urbanity  displayed  by  Swift's  irony.] 

his  noble  acquaintance.     See  also  Pope's  note  ^  Qoggiy  copje^j  fj-Qjn  Boileau : 

to  Ep.  III.  on  p.  220.     B.  was  Paymaster  of  the  '  Un  esprit  n^  plait  par  son  chagrin  meme.' 

Forces  under  Godolphin;  and  when,  in  1711,  the  It  is  a  compliment  to  Swift.     Warton. 
public  accounts  of  the  latter  were  examined  by 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  235 

Catius  ^  is  ever  moral,  ever  grave, 
Thinks  who  endures  a  knave,  is  next  a  knave, 
Save  just  at  dinner  —  then,  prefers,  no  doubt, 
A  Rogue  with  Ven'son  to  a  Saint  without.  80 

Who  would  not  praise  Patritio's  high  desert,^ 
His  hand  unstained,  his  uncorrupted  heart. 
His  comprehensive  head!  all  I nt Vests  weigh'd. 
All  Europe  savM,  yet  Britain  not  betray'd. 
He  thanks  you  not,  his  pride  is  in  Piquet,  85 

New-market-fame,  and  judgment  at  a  Bet.^ 

What  made  (say  Montagne,  or  more  sage  Charron!*) 
Otho  a  warrior,^  Cromwell  a  buffoon  ? 
A  perjurM  Prince  a  leaden  Saint  revere,^ 

A  godless  Regent  tremble  at  a  Star?"^  90 

The  throne  a  Bigot  keep,  a  Genius  quit,^ 
Faithless  thro'  Piety,  and  dup'd  thro'  Wit? 
Europe  a  Woman,  Child,  or  Dotard  rule. 
And  just  her  wisest  monarch  made  a  fool  ?  ^ 

Know,  God  and  Nature  only  are  the  same :  95 

In  Man,  the  judgment  shoots  at  flying  game, 
A  bird  of  passage  I  gone  as  soon  as  found. 
Now  in  the  Moon  perhaps,  now  under  ground. 

In  vain  the  Sage,  with  retrospective  eye. 

Would  from  th'  apparent  What  conclude  the  Why,  100 

Infer  the  Motive  from  the  Deed,  and  shew, 

That  what  we  chancM  was  what  we  meant  to  do. 
1    Behold!  If  Fortune  or  a  Mistress  frowns, 
\    Some  plunge  in  business,  others  shave  their  crowns : 

To  ease  the  Soul  of  one  oppressive  weight,  105 

1  Charles  Dartineuf.  Carruthers.  [See  Imi-  Mary,  which  when  he  swore  by,  he  feared  to 
tations  of  Horace^  Bk.  ii.  Ep.  ii.  v.  87,  note.]  break  his  oath.     P. 

2  Lord  G — n.  Warburton.  [Lord  Godol-  '^  A  godless  Regent  tremble  at  a  Star  ?\ 
phin,  appointed  Lord  Treasurer  at  the  accession  Philip  Duke  of  Orleans,  Regent  of  France  in 
of  Queen  Anne,  a  Whig  and  the  patron  of  Addi-  the  minority  of  Louis  XV.,  superstitious  in  ju- 
son.  'Most  of  the  time  which  he  could  save  dicial  astrology,  tho' an  unbeliever  in  all  religion, 
from  public  business  was  spent  in  racing,  card-  Warburton. 
playing,  and  cock-fighting.'    Macaulay.']  *  The  throne  a  Bigot  keep,  a  Genius  qtiit^ 

3  After  V.  86  in  the  former  Editions,  Philip  V.  of  Spain,  who,  after  renouncing  the 
*  Triumphant  leaders,  at  an  army's  head,  throne  for  Religion,  resumed  it  to  gratify  his 
Hemm'd    round    with   glories,   pilfer   cloth   or  Queen;    and  Victor  Amadeus  IL  King  of  Sar- 

bread;  dinia,  who  resigned  the  Crown,  and   trying  to 

As  meanly  plunder  as  they  bravely  fought,  reassume  it,  was  imprisoned  till  his  death.     P. 
Now  save  a  People,  and  now  save  a  groat.'  ^  [The  reference  appears  to  be  to  the  succes- 

[AUuding  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.]  sion  of  Tsarinas  in  Russia,  and  to  the  protracted 

4  [See  note  to  Essay  on  Man,  Ep.  iii.  v.  46,  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  the  minority  of  his 
p.  209.]  successor,   in   France.     If  her  wisest  monarch 

5  [The  Roman  Emperor  Otho,  the  effeminate  signify  Louis  XIV.,  the  agent  who  subjected 
associate  of  Nero's  debauches,  for  a  time  dis-  him  to  the  process  referred  to  might  possibly  be 
played  a  manful  spirit  against  Vitellius.]  Mme.  de  Maintenon;  but  it  is  impossible  to  find 

'^  A  perjurd  Prince\  Louis  XI.  of  France,  chapter  and  verse  for  such  vague  allusions  as 
wore  in  his  Hat  a  leaden  image  of  the  Virgin    those  in  the  text.] 


236  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

This  quits  an  Empire,  that  embroils  a  State : 
The  same  adust  complexion  has  impelPd 
Charles  to  the  Convent,  Philip  to  the  Field. ^ 

Not  always  Actions  shew  the  man  :  we  find 
Who  does  a  kindness,  is  not  therefore  kind;  110 

Perhaps  Prosperity  becalmM  his  breast. 
Perhaps  the  Wind  just  shifted  from  the  east : 
Not  therefore  humble  he  who  seeks  retreat. 
Pride  guides  his  steps,  and  bids  him  shun  the  great : 
Who  combats  bravely  is  not  therefore  brave,  115 

He  dreads  a  death-bed  like  the  meanest  slave 
Who  reasons  wisely  is  not  therefore  wise. 
His  pride  in  Reasoning,  not  in  Acting  lies. 

But  grant  that  Actions  best  discover  man ; 
Take  the  most  strong,  and  sort  them  as  you  can.  120 

The  few  that  glare  each  character  must  mark, 
You  balance  not  the  many  in  the  dark. 
What  will  you  do  with  such  as  disagree? 
Suppress  them,  or  miscall  them  PoHcy? 

I  Must  then  at  once  (the  character  to  save)  125 

I  The  plain  rough  Hero  turn  a  crafty  Knave? 
I  Alas!  in  truth  the  man  but  chang'd  his  mind, 
Perhaps  was  sick,  in  love,  or  had  not  din'd. 
Ask  why  from  Britain  Caesar  would  retreat  ? 
Caesar  himself  might  whisper  he  was  beat.  I30 

Why  risk  the  world's  great  empire  for  a  Punk?^ 
Caesar  perhaps  might  answer  he  was  drunk. 
But,  sage  historians!  't  is  your  task  to  prove 
One  action  Conduct ;  one,  heroic  Love. 

'T  is  from  high  Life  high  Characters  are  drawn ;  135 

A  Saint  in  Crape  ^  is  twice  a  Saint  in  Lawn ; 
A  Judge  is  just,  a  Chancellor  juster  still ; 
A  Gownman,  learn'd ;  a  Bishop,  what  you  will ; 
Wise,  if  a  Minister  ;  but,  if  a  King, 

More  wise,  more  learn'd,  more  just,  more  evVything.*  140 

Court-virtues  bear,  like  Gems,  the  highest  rate. 
Born  where  Heav'n's  influence  scarce  can  penetrate 
In  life's  low  vale,  the  soil  the  Virtues  like. 
They  please  as  beauties,  here  as  wonders  strike. 
Tho'  the  same  Sun  with  all-diffusive  rays  145 

Blush  in  the  Rose,  and  in  the  Diamond  blaze, 
We  prize  the  stronger  effort  of  his  pow'r, 

1  [The  complexion  of  Charles  V.  has  been  ^  [^j  g  y^  t^g  gown  of  an  ordinary  clergyman.] 
attributed  by  modern  historians  to  an  imperfect  *  [The  merits  of  great  and  small  are  judged  in 
and  over-tried  digestion;  but  he  was  certainly  the  inverse  ratio  of  that  applied  to  their  foibles, 
*  impelled  to  the  field '  more  frequently  than  his  according  to  the  familiar  passage  in  Measure  for 
son  Philip  II.]  Measure^  Act  ii.  Sc.  2:  *  What  in  the  captain's,' 

2  [Cleopatra.     It  need  hardly  be  added  that  &c.] 
this  view  of  Caesar's  conduct  in  Egypt  is  falla- 
cious.] 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


m 


And  justly  set  the  Gem  above  the  Flow'r. 

'T  is  Education  forms  the  common  mind, 
Just  as  the  Twig  is  bent,  the  Tree  's  inclined.  150 

Boastful  and  rough,  your  first  Son  is  a  Squire ; 
The  next  a  Tradesman,  meek,  and  much  a  liar ; 
Tom  struts  a  Soldier,  open,  bold,  and  brave ; 
Will  sneaks  a  Scrivener,  an  exceeding  knave : 
Is  he  a  Churchman?  then  he  's  fond  of  pow'r:  )  155 

A  Quaker?  sly:  A  Presbyterian?  sour:  v 

A  smart  Free-thinker?  all  things  in  an  hour.     ) 

Ask  men's  Opinions  :  Scoto  ^  now  shall  tell 
How  Trade  increases,  and  the  world  goes  well ; 
Strike  off  his  Pension,  by  the  setting  sun,  160 

And  Britain,  if  not  Europe,  is  undone. 

That  gay  Free-thinker,  a  fine  talker  once, 
What  turns  him  now  a  stupid  silent  dunce? 
Some  God,  or  Spirit  he  has  lately  found : 

Or  chancM  to  meet  a  Minister  that  frownM.  165 

r      Judge  we  by  Nature  ?  Habit  can  efface, 
•   Infrest  o'ercome,  or  Policy  take  place  : 
By  Actions  ?  those  Uncertainty  divides  : 
By  Passions  ?  these  Dissimulation  hides  : 
/>"  i  Opinions?  they  still  take  a  wider  range :  170 

Find,  if  you  can,  in  what  you  cannot  change. 

Manners  with  Fortunes,  Humours  turn  with  Climes, 
Tenets  with  Books,  and  Principles  with  Times. 

Search  then  the  RULING  PASSION  :  2  there,  alone, 
The  Wild  are  constant,  and  the  Cunning  known ;  1 75 

The  Fool  consistent,  and  the  False  sincere ; 
Priests,  Princes,  Women,  no  dissemblers  here. 
This  clue  once  found,  unravels  all  the  rest. 
The  prospect  clears,  and  Wharton  stands  confest.' 
Wharton,  the  scorn  and  wonder  of  our  days,  180 

Whose  ruling  Passion  was  the  Lust  of  Praise  : 
Born  with  whatever  could  win  it  from  the  Wise, 
Women  and  Fools  must  like  him  or  he  dies ; 
Tho'  wond'ring  Senates  hung  on  all  he  spoke, 
The  Club  must  hail  him  master  of  the  joke.  185 

Shall  parts  so  various  aim  at  nothing  new? 
He  '11  shine  a  Tully  and  a  Wilmot  too.'* 

lln  the  first  edition:  *  J — n  now  shall  tell; '  tron),  after  a  life  of  mad  dissipation  and  advent- 
meaning  perhaps  Johnston,  the  Scottish  Secre-  ure,  died  in  the  year  1731  in  a  Spanish  convent 
tary  ...  a  neighbour  of  Pope's  at  Twickenham,  in  the  habit  of  the  monks  who  had  given  him  a 
Carruthers.  last  refuge.     His  career  is  described  in  Vol.  ii. 

2  Search  then  the  Ruling  Passion  .•]     See  of  Lord  Stanhope's  Hist,  of  Engl. '\ 

Essay  on  Man,  Ep.  11.  v.  133.  &  seq.     War-         *  John  Wilmot,  E.  of  Rochester,  famous  for 

hurton.  his  Wit    and    Extravagancies   in   the   time   of 

3  [Philip  Duke  of  Wharton,  the  notorious  son  Charles  the  Second.    P.     [See  note  p.  184.] 
of  an  only  less  notorious  father  (Addison's  pa- 


238  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

Then  turns  repentant,  and  his  God  adores 
With  the  same  spirit  that  he  drinks  and  whores ;  ^ 
Enough  if  all  around  him  but  admire,  190 

And  now  the  Punk  applaud,  and  now  the  Friar. 
9  ^  Thus  with  each  gift  of  nature  and  of  art, 

^  ^  And  wanting  nothing  but  an  honest  heart ; 

Grown  all  to  all,  from  no  one  vice  exempt ; 
And  most  contemptible,  to  shun  contempt :  195 

y^'^  His  Passion  still,  to  covet  genYal  praise, 

;/'  His  Life,  to  forfeit  it  a  thousand  ways ; 

A  constant  Bounty  which  no  friend  has  made ; 

An  angel  Tongue,  which  no  man  can  persuade ; 

A  Fool  with  more  of  Wit  than  half  mankind,  200 

Too  rash  for  Thought,  for  Action  too  refin'd  : 

A  Tyrant  to  the  wife  his  heart  approves ; 

A  Rebel  to  the  very  king  he  loves ; 

He  dies,  sad  outcast  of  each  church  and  state, 

And,  harder  still!  flagitious,  yet  not  great.  205 

Ask  you  why  Wharton  broke  thro'  ev'ry  rule  ? 

'T  was  all  foi  fear  the  Knaves  should  call  him  Fool.^ 

Nature  well  known,  no  prodigies  remain,^ 
Comets  are  regular,  and  Wharton  plain. 

Yet,  in  this  search,  the  wisest  may  mistake,  210 

If  second  qualities  for  first  they  take. 
When  Catiline  by  rapine  swell'd  his  store ; 
When  Caesar  made  a  noble  dame  ^  a  whore  ; 
In  this  the  Lust,  in  that  the  Avarice 

Were  means,  not  ends  ;  Ambition  was  the  vice.  215 

That  very  Caesar,  born  in  Scipio's  days. 
Had  aim'd,  like  him,  by  Chastity  at  praise.^ 
Lucullus,  when  Frugality  could  charm. 
Had  roasted  turnips  in  the  Sabine  farm.^ 

In  vain  th'  observer  eyes  the  builder's  toil,  220 

But  quite  mistakes  the  scaffold  for  the  pile. 
In  this  one  Passion  man  can  strength  enjoy, 
As  Fits  give  vigour,  just  when  they  destroy. 
Time,  that  on  all  things  lays  his  lenient  hand, 
Yet  tames  not  this  ;  it  sticks  to  our  last  sand.  225 

Consistent  in  our  follies  and  our  sins. 
Here  honest  Nature  ends  as  she  begins. 

1  With  the  same  spirit]  Spirit,  for  principle,         *  [Servilia,  the  sister  of  Cato  and  the  mother 
not  passion.     Warbtirton.  of  Brutus.     According   to   Sueton.    Julius,  c 

2  [Goethe  makes  Werther  as   the   supposed    51.] 

author  of  the  Letters  from  Switzerland  ex-         ^  [Alluding  to  the  famous  story  of  Scipio  the 

press  a  similar  idea:  *  one  would  always  rather  elder  and  Sophonisba.] 

appear  vicious  than  ridiculous  to  anyone  else.]  ^  [L.  Licinius  Lucullus,  who  after  his  Eastern 

3  In  the  former  Editions,  v.  208.  campaigns  introduced  many  luxuries  into  Roman 
*  Nature  well  known,  no  Miracles  remain.'  life.] 

Alter'd  as  above,  for  very  obvious  reasons. 

Warburton. 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  239 

Old  Politicians  chew  on  wisdom  past, 
And  totter  on  in  business  to  the  last ; 

As  weak,  as  earnest ;  and  as  gravely  out,  230 

As  sober  LanesbVow  ^  dancing  in  the  gout. 

Behold  a  rev'rend  sire,  whom  want  of  grace 
Has  made  the  father  of  a  nameless  race, 
Shov'd  from  the  wall  perhaps,  or  rudely  pressed 
By  his  own  son,  that  passes  by  unblessed :  235 

Still  to  his  wench  he  crawls  on  knocking  knees, 
And  envies  evVy  sparrow  that  he  sees. 

A  salmon's  belly,  Helluo,'-  was  thy  fate ; 
The  doctor  calPd,  declares  all  help  too  late : 
"  Mercy! "  cries  Helluo,  '•  mercy  on  my  soul !  "  240 

"Is  there  no  hope?  —  Alas!  —  then  bring  the  jowl." ^ 

The  frugal  Crone,  whom  praying  priests  attend, 
Still  tries  to  save  the  hallowed  taper's  end. 
Collects  her  breath,  as  ebbing  life  retires. 
For  one  puff  more,  and  in  that  puff  expires.*  245 

"Odious!  in  woollen!  't  would  a  Saint  provoke," 
(Were  the  last  words  that  poor  Narcissa  spoke)  ^ 
"  No,  let  a  charming  Chintz,  and  Brussels  lace 
Wrap  my  cold  limbs,  and  shade  my  lifeless  face : 
One  would  not,  sure,  be  frightful  when  one 's  dead  —        250 
And  — Betty— give  this  Cheek  a  little  Red."^ 

The  Courtier  smooth,  who  forty  years  had  shin'd 
An  humble  servant  to  all  human  kind. 
Just  brought  out  this,  when  scarce  his  tongue  could  stir, 
"  If — where  I  'm  going —  I  could  serve  you.  Sir?"  255 

1  LanesFrow.']  An  ancient  Nobleman,  who  Women,  whose  examples  he  has  introduced  to 
continued  this  practice  long  after  his  legs  were  illustrate  the  Character  and  Ruling  Passion  of 
disabled  by  the  gout.     Upon  the  death  of  Prince    Men.     Bowies.'] 

George  of  Denmark,  he  demanded  an  audience  ^  —  the    last    words  that  poor  Narcissa 

of  the  Queen,  to  advise  her  to  preserve  her  health  spoke)]     This  story,  as  well  as  the  others,  is 

and  dispel  her  grief  by  Z>a:«<:z«^.    P.    [Viscount  founded  on  fact,  tho'  the  author  had  the  good- 

Lanesborough  died  at  Dublin  in  1736.     He  is  ness  not  to   mention   the  names.     Several   at- 

often  alluded  to  as  the  dancing  peer  in  Irish  tribute   this  in   particular  to  a  very  celebrated 

pasquinades  of  the  day.     Carruthers.]  Actress,  who,  in  detestation  of  the  thought  of 

2  [A  Latin  word  signifying  a  glutton.]  being  buried  in  woollen,   gave,  these  her  last 

3  Warton  traces  this  story  to  Athenaeus,  Bk.  orders  with  her  dying  breath.  P.  [According 
VIII.,  where  it  is  told  of  the  poet  Philoxenus;  but  to  Warton  the  actress  in  question  was  the  fa- 
thinks  Pope  derived  it  from  La  Fontaine.]  mous  Mrs.  Oldfield,  and  Betty,  her  friend  and 

*  A  fact  told  him  by  Lady  Bolingbroke,  of  confidante,  Mrs.  Saunders.] 
aH  old  Countess  at  Paris.  Warburton.  [It  is  »  [No  reader  of  Dickens  will  fail  to  remem- 
rather  an  odd  circumstance  that,  although  the  ber  the  last  words  of  Cleopatra  in  Dombey  and 
professed  subject  of  this  Epistle  is  *  the  Char-  Son^  just  as  the  next  illustration  but  one  will 
acters  of  i^^«,'  Pope  has  taken  two  of  the  ex-  remindmany  of  Tennyson's  iV^r^//^r« /vzrw^r. 
amples  to  illustrate  his  theory  from  Women,  the  Euclio's  very  words  are  said  by  Warton  to  have 
*  frugal  crone '  and  '  poor  Narcissa,'  and  yet  he  been  used  by  Sir  William  Bateman  on  his  death- 
says,  in  the  next  Epist!e,  on  Women,  bed.     But  Wakefield  states  Euclio  to  have  been 

'  In  Men,  we  various  Ruling  Passions  find;  designed  for  Sir  Charles  Duncombe  of  Helms- 

In  Women,  two  almost  divide  the  kind,  ley;  which  is  probable  from  Iniit.  of  Horace^ 

The  Love  of  Pleasure,  and  the  Love  of  Sway.'  Sat.  II.  v.  183.] 
Neither   of  these    Passions    belonged    to    the 


240  MORAL  ESSAYS, 

"  I  give  and  I  devise  (old  Euclio  said, 
And  sigh'd)  my  lands  and  tenements  to  Ned." 
"  Your  money,  Sir ;  "  "'  My  money.  Sir,  what  all? 
Why,  —  if  I  must —  (then  wept)  I  give  it  Paul." 
"  The  Manor,  Sir  ?  "  —  "  The  Manor !  hold,"  he  cry'd,         260 
"Not  that,  —  I  cannot  part  with  that "  —  and  died. 

And  you !  brave  Cobham,  to  the  latest  breath 
Shall  feel  your  ruling  passion  strong  in  death : 
Such  in  those  moments  as  in  all  the  past, 
"  Oh,  save  my  Country,  Heav'n ! "  shall  be  your  last.i        265 


EPISTLE   II.  2 

To  A  LADY.8 

Of  the  Characters  of  Women. 

NOTHING  so  true  as  what  you  once  let  fall, 
'^  Most  Women  have  no  Characters  at  all." 
Matter  too  soft  a  lasting  mark  to  bear. 
And  best  distinguished  by  black,  brown,  or  fair. 

How  many  pictures  of  one  Nymph  we  view,  5 

All  how  unlike  each  other,  all  how  true! 
Arcadia's  Countess,^  here,  in  ermin'd  pride, 
Is,  there,  Pastora  by  a  fountain  side. 
Here  Fannia,  leering  on  her  own  good  man, 
And  there,  a  naked  Leda  with  a  Swan.  lo 

Let  then  the  Fair  one  beautifully  cry. 
In  Magdalen's  loose  hair,  and  lifted  eye. 
Or  drest  in  smiles  of  sweet  Cecilia  shine,^ 

*  Whatever  were  the  precise  last  words  of  ready  for  publication,  the  character  of  Atossa 

William  Pitt,  this  was  the  spirit  which  dictated  was  inserted.     If  Lord  Marchmont  made  the 

them.    Compare  the  Epitaph  (xiii.)  on  A  iter-  statement  attributed  to  him  by  the  editor  of  his 

bury.]  papers   (Rose),  Pope  had  received    from   the 

2  [Of  this  Epistle,  which  was  published  in  Duchess  £,  1000,  the  acceptance  of  which  implied 

'735>  parts  had  been  long  before  written  and  forbearance  towards  the  house  of  Marlborough, 

even  printed.    As  originally  published,  it  wanted  If  this  be  so,  it  is  probable  that  the  motive  which 

the  portraits  of  Philomede,  Chloe  and  Atossa.  prompted  Pope  to  the  acceptance  of  this  *  favour' 

According  to  Warburton's  statement,  Pope  com-  was  the  desire  to  settle  Martha  Blount  in  inde- 

municated  the  character  of  Atossa  to  the  Duch-  pendent  circumstances  for  life.     See  the  account 

ess  of  Marlborough  as  intended  for  the  Duchess  of  this  transaction  in  Carruthers'  Lzfe  of  Pope, 

of  Buckingham;    according  to  Walpole  he   re-  pp.  392-6.     On  the  general  subject  of  the  Epis- 

peated  the  experiment  vice  versa.     Immediately  tie,  compare  the  6th  Satire  of  Juvenal,  the  loth 

on  the   death  of  Pope,  the  Duchess  of  Marl-  Satire  of  Boileau,  and  Young's  two  Satires  On 

borough  applied  to  one  of  his  executors.  Lord  Women.l 

Marchmont,    with    the    view    of    ascertaining         ^  [Generally  supposed  to  be  Martha  Blount, 

whether  the  poet  had  left  behind  him  any  satire  concerning  whom  see   Introductory  Memoir^ 

on  the  Dnke  or  himself.     Marchmont  consulted  p.  xxx.] 

Bolingbroke;  and  it  was  found  that  in  the  edi-  *  [The  Arcadia  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  was  in- 

tion  of  the  Moral  Essays  prepared  for  the  press  scribed  to  his  sister,  the  Countess  of  Pembroke.] 
by  Pope  just  before  his  death,  and  printed  off         ^  Arcadia's  Countess ^  —  Pastora  by  a/oun- 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


241 


With  simpVing  Angels,  Palms,  and  Harps  divine ; 

Whether  the  Charmer  sinner  it,  or  saint  it,  15 

If  Folly  grow  romantic,  I  must  paint  it. 
"^     Come  then,  the  colors  and  the  ground  prepare! 

Dip  in  the  Rainbow,  trick  her  oif  in  Air ; 

Choose  a  firm  Cloud,  before  it  fall,  and  in  it 
\^  Catch,  ere  she  change,  the  Cynthia  of  this  minute.^  20 

^   Rufa,  whose  eye  quick-glancing  o'er  the  Park,^ 
\  Attracts  each  light  gay  meteor  of  a  Spark, 
1  Agrees  as  ill  with  Rufa  studying  Locke,^ 
i  As  Sappho's  diamonds  with  her  dirty  smock ;  * 

Or  Sappho  at  her  toilet's  greasy  task,  25 

With  Sappho  fragrant  at  an  evening  Masque : 

So  morning  Insects  that  in  muck  begun. 

Shine,  buzz,  and  fly-blow  in  the  setting-sun. 
How  soft  is  Silia  !  fearful  to  offend  ;  ^ 

The  Frail  one's  advocate,  the  Weak  one's  friend :  30 

To  her,  Calista  prov'd  her  conduct  nice ; 

And  good  Simplicius  asks  of  her  advice. 

Sudden,  she  storms  !  she  raves  !  You  tip  the  wink, 

But  spare  your  censure ;  Silia  does  not  drink. 

All  eyes  may  see  from  what  the  change  arose,  35 

All  eyes  may  see  —  a  Pimple  on  her  nose. 
Papillia,  wedded  to  her  am'rous  spark,^ 

Sighs  for  the  shades  —  "  How  charming  is  a  Park! " 

A  Park  is  purchas'd,  but  the  Fair  he  sees 

All  bath'd  in  tears  —  '^Oh  odious,  odious  Trees!  "  40 

Ladies,  like  variegated  Tulips,  show ; 

'T  is  to  their  Changes  half  their  charms  we  owe ; 


tain  —  Leda  with  a  swan  —  Magdalen  —  Ce- 
cilia— ]  Attitudes  in  which  several  ladies 
affected  to  be  drawn,  and  sometimes  one  lady 
in  them  all.  The  poet's  politeness  and  com- 
plaisance to  the  sex  is  observable  in  this  in- 
stance, amongst  others,  that,  where,  as  in  the 
Characters  of  Men  he  has  sometimes  made  use 
of  real  names,  in  the  Characters  of  Women 
always  fictitious.  P.  [The  reader  must  re- 
member the  portraits  by  Kneller  and  his  con- 
temporaries to  appreciate  the  aptness  of  the 
illustration.] 

*  Catchy  ere  she  change,  the  Cynthia  of  this 
minute. '\     Alluding  to  the  precept  of  Fresnoy : 
*form.ce  veneres  captandofugaces.' 

Warbiirton. 

2  Instances  of  contrarieties,  given  even  from 
such  Characters  as  are  most  strongly  mark'd 
and  seemingly  therefore  most  consistent;  as  I.: 
In  the  Affected,  v.  21,  &c.,  P. 

3  [Warburton  compares  the  first  stanza  of 
Pope's  first  Imitation  of  Dorset.  See  p.  183. 
The  person  referred  to  is  supposed  to  be  Queen 


Caroline;  but  this  seems  unlikely,  as  the  Queen 
appears,  v.  181.] 

*  \_Sappho  is  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu, 
as  to  whose  relations  with  Pope  see  Introduc- 
tory Memoir,  p.  xxxi,  where  the  different  pas- 
sages in  which  she  is  attacked  by  him  are 
enumerated.  He  had  first  addressed  her  as 
Sappho  in  some  panegyrical  lines  written  in 
1722,  and  afterwards  transferred  to  Martha 
Blount.  Lady  Mary  Pierrepoint  was  born  at 
Thoresby  in  Notts,  about  i6go;  in  17 12  married 
Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  whom  she  accom- 
panied to  Constantinople  on  his  appointment  to 
that  embassy  in  1716.  Shortly  after  her  return 
in  1718  she  fixed  her  summer  residence  at  Twick- 
enham. In  the  year  1739  declining  health  de- 
termined her  to  quit  England  for  Italy  and  the 
South  of  France,  where  she  remained  till  shortly 
before  her  death  in  1762.  Her  letters  from  Con- 
stantinople were  first  published  in  the  following 
year.] 

5  II.     Contrarieties  in  the  Soft-naturd.     P. 


V 


242  MORAL  ESSAYS, 

Fine  by  defect,  and  delicately  weak. 

Their  happy  Spots  the  nice  admirer  take,^ 

'T  was  thus  Calypso  once  each  heart  alarm'd,^  4^ 

Aw'd  without  Virtue,  without  Beauty  charmed ; 

Her  Tongue  bevvitch'd  as  oddly  as  her  Eyes, 

Less  Wit  than  Mimic,  more  a  Wit  than  wise ; 

Strange  graces  still,  and  stranger  flights  she  had, 

Was  just  not  ugly,  and  was  just  not  mad ;  50 

Yet  ne'er  so  sure  our  passion  to  create. 

As  when  she  touch'd  the  brink  of  all  we  hate. 
r        Narcissa's  ^  nature,  tolerably  mild,* 

To  make  a  wash,  would  hardly  stew  a  child ; 
!    Has  ev'n  been  proved  to  grant  a  Lover's  pray'r,  55 

I    And  paid  a  Tradesman  once  to  make  him  stare; 
1    Gave  alms  at  Easter,  in  a  Christian  trim, 
\  And  made  a  Widow  happy,  for  a  whim. 

Why  then  declare  Good-nature  is  her  scorn, 

When  't  is  by  that  alone  she  can  be  borne  ?  60 

Why  pique  all  mortals,  yet  affect  a  name  ?  ^ 

A  fool  to  Pleasure,  yet  a  slave  to  Fame :  \^ 

•  Now  deep  in  Taylor  and  the  Book  of  Martyrs,^        .1^" 

Now  drinking  citron  with  his  Grace  and  Chartres  :* 

Now  Conscience  chills  her,  and  now  Passion  burns ;  65 

And  Atheism  and  Religion  take  their  turns ; 

A  very  Heathen  in  the  carnal  part. 

Yet  still  a  sad,  good  Christian  at  her  heart. 
See  Sin  in  State,  majestically  drunk ; " 

Proud  as  a  Peeress,  prouder  as  a  Punk ;  70 

Chaste  to  her  Husband,  frank  to  all  beside, 

A  teeming  Mistress,  but  a  barren  Bride. 

What  then  ?  let  Blood  and  Body  bear  the  fault, 

Her  Head  's  untouched,  that  noble  Seat  of  Thought : 

Such  this  day's  doctrine — in  another  fit  75 

She  sins  with  Poets  thro'  pure  Love  of  Wit. 

What  has  not  fir'd  her  bosom  or  her  brain  ? 

Caesar  and  Tall-boy,^  Charles  and  Charlemagne. 

As  Helluo,  late  Dictator  of  the  Feast, 

The  Nose  of  Hautgotit,  and  the  Tip  of  Taste,  80 

Critic'd  your  wine,  and  analys'd  your  meat. 

Yet  on  plain  Pudding  deign'd  at  home  to  eat ; 

^  [Alluding      to      the      '  beauty-spots '      or         ^  IV.     In  the  Whz'tnsical.     P. 
*  mouckes'  then  in  fashion.]  ^   [Jeremy   Taylor's    devotional   works  and 

2  III.     Contrarieties    in    the    Cuntittig  and     Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs.] 

Artful.     P.  6  [For  Chartres  see  Pope's  note  to  Ep.  in. 

3  I  have  been  informed,  on  good  authority,     v.  20.] 

that  this  character  was  designed  for  the  then  '^  V,     In  the  Lewd  and  Vicious.     P. 

Duchess  of  Hamilton.     Warton.     [These  lines         *  [According  to  Carruthers,  a  character  in 

were  originally  published,  in  a  somewhat  differ-  the  Jovial  Crew.     But  I  cannot  find  the  char- 

ent  form,  under  the  title  of  Sylvia,  a  Fragment,  acter  in  that  brutal  farce.] 
in  the  Miscellanies  of  1727.]     See  p.  526. 


MORAL   ESSAYS.  243 

So  Philomede,^  lectVing  all  mankind 

On  the  soft  Passion,  and  the  Taste  refin'd, 

Th'  Address,  the  Delicacy — stoops  at  once,  85 

And  makes  her  hearty  meal  upon  a  Dunce. 

Flavia  's  a  Wit,  has  too  much  sense  to  Pray  ;• 
To  Toast  our  wants  and  wishes,  is  her  way ; 
Nor  asks  of  God,  but  of  her  Stars,  to  give 
The  mighty  blessing,  "  while  we  live,  to  live."  90 

Then  all  for  Death,  that  Opiate  of  the  soul! 
Lucretia's  dagger,  Rosamonda^s  ^  bowl. 
Say,  what  can  cause  such  impotence  of  mind? 
A  Spark  too  fickle,  or  a  Spouse  too  kind. 

Wise  Wretch  !  with  Pleasures  too  refin'd  to  please ;  95 

With  too  much  Spirit  to  be  e'er  at  ease ; 
With  too  much  Quickness  ever  to  be  taught ; 
With  too  much  Thinking  to  have  common  Thought : 
You  purchase  Pain  with  all  that  Joy  can  give, 
And  die  of  nothing  but  a  Rage  to  live.  100 

Turn  then  from  Wits ;  and  look  on  Simo's  Mate, 
No  Ass  so  meek,  no  Ass  so  obstinate. 
Or  her,  that  owns  her  Faults,  but  never  mends. 
Because  she  's  honest,  and  the  best  of  Friends. 
Or  her,  whose  life  the  Church  and  Scandal  share,  105 

For  ever  in  a  Passion,  or  a  Pray'r. 
Or  her,  who  laughs  at  Hell,  but  (like  her  Grace) ^ 
Cries,  "Ah!  how  charming,  if  there  'S  no  such  place!" 
Or  who  in  sweet  vicissitude  appears 

Of  Mirth  and  Opium,  Ratafie^  and  Tears,  no 

The  daily  Anodyne,  and  nightly  Draught, 
To  kill  those  foes  to  Fair  ones.  Time  and  Thought. 
Woman  and  Fool  are  two  hard  things  to  hit ; 
For  true  No-meaning  puzzles  more  than  Wit. 
4     But  what  are  these  to  great  Atossa's  mind  ?  ^  115 

1  Design'd  for  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  nings;  and  Colonel  Churchill  was  her  third 
who  so  much  admired  Congreve.  Warton.  husband.  As  Lady  Churchill  she  acquired  an 
[Not  the  famous  Duchess  Sarah,  but  her  daugh-  irresistible  influence  over  the  Princess  Anne,  to 
ter  Henrietta,  who  was  Duchess  of  Marlborough  whom  she  was  appointed  First  Lady  of  the  Bed- 
in  her  own  right,  and  married  the  Earl  of  Godol-  chamber,  and  with  whom  for  twenty  years  she 
phin.]  carried  on  a  correspondence  under  the  loving 

2  VL  Contrarieties  in  the  Witty  and  Re-  pseudonym  of  Mrs.  Freeman.  It  was  through 
fiiid.     P.  her  that  Churchill  rose  to  power  and  place  and 

3  [The  Fair  Rosamond  of  Henry  H.  In  Ad-  became  Earl  of  Marlborough.  After  Queen 
dison'sOperaof^£'.yrt;«^«rtf  the  heroine  demands  Anne's  accession  the  influence  of  Marlborough 
*  the  deadly  bowl '  instead  of  the  dagger  offered  (created  Duke  in  1702)  became  for  a  time  abso- 
by  Queen  Elinor.]  lute;  and  was  imperiously  maintained  at  home 

*  The  Duchess  of  Montagu.     Warton.    [She  by  his  Duchess  while  he  was  gaining  laurels 

was  an  intimate  friend  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  abroad      It  was  at  last  successfully  undermined 

Montagu's,  who  speaks  of  her  *  tender  esteem  '  by  Harley  and  his  instrument  Abigail  Hill,  a 

for  the  Duchess.]  relative  of  the  Duchess  and  bedchamber-woman 

5  [A  kind  of /z"^«<fMr.]  to  the  Queen;  and  in  1712,  Marlborough  was 

«  [The  Duchess  of  Marlborough.     See  note  dismissed    from    all    his    employments.      The 

on  p.  240.     Her  maiden  name  was  Sarah  Jen-  Duchess   survived   his   death   (in  1722)    for  22 


244  MORAL  ESSAYS, 

Scarce  once  herself,  by  turns  all  Womankind! 
Who,  with  herself,  or  others,  from  her  birth 
Finds  all  her  life  one  warfare  upon  earth  : 

\  Shines  in  exposing  Knaves,  and  painting  Fools, 

!  Yet  is,  whatever  she  hates  and  ridicules.  120 

No  Thought  advances,  but  her  Eddy  Brain 
Whisks  it  about,  and  down  it  goes  again.^ 
Full  sixty  years  the  World  has  been  her  Trade, 

^  The  wisest  Fool  much  Time  has  ever  made. 

/  From  loveless  youth  to  unrespected  age,  125 

!  No  Passion  gratify 'd  except  her  Rage. 
So  much  the  Fury  still  out-ran  the  Wit, 
The  Pleasure  miss'd  her,  and  the  Scandal  hit. 

/Who  breaks  with  her,  provokes  Revenge  from  Hell, 

^.  But  he 's  a  bolder  man  who  dares  be  well.  130 

I  Her  ev'ry  turn  with  Violence  pursuM, 

iNor  more  a  storm  her  Hate  than  Gratitude : 
To  that  each  Passion  turns,  or  soon  or  late ; 
Love,  if  it  makes  her  yield,  must  make  her  hate: 
Superiors?  death!  and  Equals?  what  a  curse!  135 

But  an  Inferior  not  dependant?  worse. 

r Offend  her,  and  she  knows  not  to  forgive ; 
Oblige  her,  and  she  '11  hate  you  while  you  live : 
But  die,  and  she  Ul  adore  you  —  Then  the  Bust 

^  And  Temple  rise  —  then  fall  again  to  dust.^  140 

Last  night,  her  Lord  was  all  that 's  good  and  great ; 
A  Knave  this  morning,  and  his  Will  a  Cheat. 
Strange !  by  the  Means  defeated  of  the  Ends, 
By  Spirit  robbM  of  Pow'r,  by  Warmth  of  Friends, 
By  Wealth  of  Follow'rs!  without  one  distress  145 

Sick  of  herself  thro'  very  selfishness! 
Atossa,  curs'd  with  ev'ry  granted  pray'r. 
Childless  with  all  her  Children,  wants  an  Heir.^ 
To  Heirs  unknown  descends  th'  unguarded  store, 
Or  wanders,  Heav'n-directed,  to  the  Poor.^  150 

Pictures  like  these,  dear  Madam,  to  design, 

years;  and  in  her  Vindications  of  his  conduct         ^  This  alludes  to  a  temple  she  erected  with  a 

and  her  own  has  left  materials  for  modifying  bust  of  Queen  Anne  in  it,  which  mouldered  away 

some  at  least  among  the  extravagant  charges  in  a  few  years.      Wilkes. 
brought  against  both.     With  Pope's  caustic  ref-         3  After  v,  148,  in  the  MS. 

erences  to  every  doubtful  point  in  her  career  and  *  This  Death  decides,  nor  lets  the  blessing  fall 

character  should  be  compared  the  equally  un-  On  any  one  she  hates,  but  on  them  all. 

merciful  prose  attacks  of  Swift  in  the  Exam-  Curs'd    chance!    this    only    could    afflict    her 
iner,  Nos.  16,  19,  49,  &c.     It  may  be  added  more, 

that  the  name  of  Atossa,  the  ambitious  daughter  If  any  part  should  wander  to  the  poor.' 
of  Cyrus  and  mother  of  Xerxes,  is  admirably  Warbiirton. 

chosen.]  *  [Pitt  (the  elder)  was  then  one  of  the  poor; 

1  After  V.  122,  in  the  MS.  and  to  him  Heaven  directed  a  portion  of  the 

*  Oppress'd  with  wealth  and  wit,  abundance  sad!  wealth  of  the  haughty  Dowager.    Macaulay.'\ 
One  makes  her  poor,  the  other  makes  her  mad.' 
Warburton, 


MORAL  ESSAYS,  245 

Asks  no  firm  hand,  and  no  unerring  line ; 

Some  wand'ring  touches,  some  reflected  light, 

Some  flying  stroke  alone  can  hit  'em  right : 

For  how  should  equal  Colours  do  the  knack?  155 

Chameleons  who  can  paint  in  white  and  black? 
"  Yet  Chloe  ^  sure  was  formed  without  a  spot  "  — 

Nature  in  her  then  err'd  not,  but  forgot. 

"  With  ev'ry  pleasing,  ev'ry  prudent  part, 

Sa}',  what  can  Chloe  want?  "  —  She  wants  a  Heart.  160 

(She  speaks,  behaves,  and  acts  just  as  she  ought ; 
\But  never,  never,  reach'd  one  gen'rous  Thought. 
'  '■:   jVirtue  she  finds  too  painful  an  endeavour, 
(^Content  to  dwell  in  Decencies  for  ever. 

So  very  reasonable,  so  unmov'd,  165 

As  never  yet  to  love,  or  to  be  lovM. 

She,  while  her  Lover  pants  upon  her  breast, 

Can  mark  the  figures  on  an  Indian  chest; 

And  when  she  sees  her  Friend  in  deep  despair, 

Observes  how  much  a  Chintz  exceeds  Mohair.^  170 

Forbid  it  Heav'n,  a  Favour  or  a  Debt 

She  e'er  should  cancel  —  but  she  may  forget. 

Safe  is  your  Secret  still  in  Chloe's  ear ; 

But  none  of  Chloe's  shall  you  ever  hear. 

Of  all  her  Dears  she  never  slander'd  one,  175 

But  cares  not  if  a  thousand  are  undone. 

Would  Chloe  know  if  you  're  alive  or  dead  ? 

She  bids  her  Footman  put  it  in  her  head. 

Chloe  is  prudent  —  Would  you  too  be  wise? 

Then  never  break  your  heart  when  Chloe  dies.  1 80 

One  certain  Portrait  may  (I  grant)  be  seen, 

Which  Heav'n  has  varnish'd  out,  and  made  a  Queen : 

The  same  for  ever!  and  describ'd  by  all 

With  Truth  and  Goodness,  as  with  Crown  and  Ball. 

Poets  heap  Virtues,  Painters  Gems  at  will,  1 85 

And  shew  their  zeal,  and  hide  their  want  of  skill. 

'T  is  well  —  but.  Artists !  who  can  paint  or  write, 

To  draw  the  Naked  is  your  true  delight. 

That  robe  of  Quality  so  struts  and  swells. 

None  see  what  Parts  of  Nature  it  conceals  :  190 

Th'  exactest  traits  of  Body  or  of  Mind, 

We  owe  to  models  of  an  humble  kind. 

If  QuEENSBURY  ^  to  Strip  there 's  no  compelling, 

1  Lady  Suflfolk.  Warton.  [This  great  lady,  spondent  of  Swift  and  the  untiring  patroness  of 
whose  friendship  was  courted  by  Swift,  Pope,  Gay.  Her  commanding  position  as  a  leader  of 
Arbuthnot  and  Gay,  is  described  by  Lord  Stan-  fashion  is  illustrated  by  an  amusing  anecdote 
hope  as  *  placid,  good-natured,  and  kind-hearted,  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu's,  who  speaks 
but  very  deaf,  and  not  remarkable  for  wit.'  She  of  the  Duchess  at  the  head  of  a  tribe  of  dames 
was  the  mistress  of  George  IL]  insisting  upon  admission  to  the  House  of  Lords 

2  [^Mohair,  a  stuff  made  of  camel's  or  other  on  an  occasion  when  for  want  of  room  ladies 
uncommon  hair.]  had  been  excluded  from  the  Chamber.] 

•  [The  Duchess  of  Queensbury,  the  corre- 


246  MORAL  ESSAYS, 

'T  is  from  a  Handmaid  we  must  take  a  Helen, 

From  Peer  or  Bishop  ^t  is  no  easy  thing  I95 

To  draw  the  man  who  loves  his  God,  or  King: 

Alas !  I  copy  (or  my  draught  would  fail) 

From  honest  Mah'met/  or  plain  Parson  Hale.^ 
But  grant,  in  Public  Men  sometimes  are  shown,^ 

A  Woman  's  seen  in  Private  life  alone  :  200 

Our  bolder  Talents  in  full  light  displayed ; 

Your  virtues  open  fairest  in  the  shade. 

Bred  to  disguise,  in  Public  't  is  you  hide ; 

There,  none  distinguish  'twixt  your  Shame  or  Pride, 

Weakness  or  Delicacy ;  all  so  nice,  205 

That  each  may  seem  a  Virtue,  or  a  Vice.^ 
i     In  Men,  we  various  Ruling  Passions  find  ;  ^ 
/  In  Women,  two  almost  divide  the  kind ; 
•  Those,  only  fixM,  they  first  or  last  obey, 
p  I  The  Love  of  Pleasure,  and  the  Love  of  Sway.  210 

That,  Nature  gives ;  and  where  the  lesson  taught  * 

Is  but  to  please,  can  Pleasure  seem  a  fault  ? 

Experience,  this  ;  by  Man's  oppression  curst, 

They  seek  the  second  not  to  loose  the  first. 

Men,  some  to  Business,  some  to  Pleasure  take;  215 

But  every  Woman  is  at  heart  a  Rake : 

Men,  some  to  Quiet,  some  to  public  Strife ; 

But  evYy  Lady  would  be  Queen  for  life. 

Yet  mark  the  fate  of  a  whole  Sex  of  Queens!' 

Pow'r  all  their  end,  but  Beauty  all  the  means :  220 

In  Youth  they  conquer,  with  so  wild  a  rage, 

As  leaves  them  scarce  a  subject  in  their  Age : 

For  foreign  glory,  foreign  joy,  they  roam  ; 

No  thought  of  peace  or  happiness  at  home. 

But  Wisdom's  triumph  is  well-tim'd  Retreat,  225 

As  hard  a  science  to  the  Fair  as  Great ! 

Beauties,  like  Tyrants,  old  and  friendless  grown, 

1  Mak'met,  servant  to  the  late  King  [George  *  That  each  may  seem  a  Virtue,  or  a 
I.],  said  to  be  the  son  of  a  Turkish  Bassa,  whom  Vice.'\  For  Women  are  taught  Virtue  so  artifi- 
he  look  at  the  Siege  of  Buda,  and  constantly  cially,  and  Vice  so  naturally,  that,  in  the  nice 
kept  about  his  person.     P.  exercise  of  them,  they  may  be  easily  mistaken 

2  Dr.  Stephen  Hale,  not  more  estimable  for  for  one  another.     Scriblerus. 

his  useful  discoveries  as  a  natural  philosopher,         ^  xhe  former  part  having  shewn,  that   the 

than  for  his  exemplary  Life  and  Pastoral  Char-  particular   Characters   of  Women  are   more 

ity  as  a  Parish  Priest.     P.  various  than  those  of  Men,  it  is  nevertheless 

3  But  gratit,  in  Public,  &='c.'\  In  the  former  observed,  that  the  general  Characteristic  of  the 
Editions,  between  this  and  the  foregoing  lines,  sex,  as  to  the  ruling  Passion,  is  more  uni- 
a  want  of  Connexion  might  be  perceived,  oc-  form.     P. 

casioned  by  the  omission  of  certain  Examples  «  This  is  occasioned  partly  by  their  Nature, 

and  Illustrations   to  the   Maxims  laid  down;  partly  their  £'^7/<:a^/<?«,  and  in  some  degree  by 

and  tho'  some  of  these  have  since  been  found.  Necessity.     P. 

viz.    the    Characters    of   Philomede,    Atossa,         "'  What  are  the  Airns  and  the  Fate  of  thia 

Chloe,  and  some  verses  following,  others  are  Sex?  —  I.     As  to  Power.     P. 

still  wanting,  nor  can  we  answer  that  these  are 

exactly  inserted.    P. 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


247 


NA 


Yet  hate  repose,  and  dread  to  be  alone, 

Worn  out  in  public,  weary  ev'ry  eye, 

Nor  leave  one  sigh  behind  them  when  they  die.^  230 

Pleasures  the  sex,  as  children  Birds,  pursue,^ 
Still  out  of  reach,  yet  never  out  of  view ; 
Sure,  if  they  catch,  to  spoil  the  Toy  at  most, 
To  covet  flying,  and  regret  when  lost : 

At  last,  to  follies  Youth  could  scarce  defend,  235 

It  grows  their  Age's  prudence  to  pretend ; 
AshamM  to  own  they  gave  delight  before, 
Reduced  to  feign  it,  when  they  give  no  more : 
As  Hags  hold  Sabbaths,^  less  for  joy  than  spite. 
So  these  their  merry,  miserable  Night ;  240 

Still  round  and  round  the  Ghosts  of  Beauty  glide. 
And  haunt  the  places  where  their  Honour  died. 

See  how  the  World  its  Veterans  rewards ! 
A  Youth  of  Frolics,  an  old  Age  of  Cards  ; 

Fair  to  no  purpose,  artful  to  no  end,  245 

Young  without  Lovers,  old  without  a  Friend ; 
A  Fop  their  Passion,  but  their  Prize  a  Sot ; 
Alive,  ridiculous,  and  dead,  forgot !  ^ 

Ah !  Friend!  to  dazzle  let  the  Vain  design ;  * 
To  raise  the  Thought,  and  touch  the  Heart  be  thine!  250 

That  Charm  shall  grow,  while  what  fatigues  the  Ring,^ 
Flaunts  and  goes  down,  an  unregarded  thing : 
So  when  the  Sun's  broad  beam  has  tir'd  the  sight. 
All  mild  ascends  the  Moon's  more  sober  light. 
Serene  in  Virgin  Modesty  she  shines,  255 

And  unobserv'd  the  glaring  Orb  declines."^ 

Oh!  blest  with  Temper,  whose  unclouded  ray 
Can  make  to-morrow  cheerful  as  to-day ; 
She,  who  can  love  a  Sister's  charms,  or  hear 
Sighs  for  a  daughter  with  unwounded  ear ;  260 

She,  who  ne'er  answers  till  a  Husband  cools. 
Or  if  she  rules  him  never  shews  she  rules  ; 
Charms  by  accepting,  by  submitting  sways. 
Yet  has  her  humour  most,  when  she  obeys ; 
Let  Fops  or  Fortune  fly  which  way  they  will ;  265 

Disdains  all  loss  of  Tickets,  or  Codille  :  ^ 


1  Copied  from  Young,  Satire  V.     Warton. 

2  II.    As  to  Pleasure.     P. 

8  [The  Hags'  or  Witches'  Sabbath  is  properly 
the  Walpurgis-night,  preceding  May-day.] 

*  [For  the  history  of  these  lines  see  note  to 
lines  To  Martha  Blount  on  her  birthday  in 
the  Miscellaneous  Poems. '\ 

^  Advice  for  their  true  Interest.     P. 

8  [The  fashionable  promenade  in  the  Park, 
made  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  and  partially  de- 
stroyed at  the  time  of  the  formation  of  the  Ser- 
pentine by  order  of  Queen  Caroline.] 


7  [These  four  lines  were  originally  addressed 
to  Miss  Judith  Cowper,  preceded  by  this  trip- 
let; 

*  Though  sprightly  Sappho  force  our  love  and 

praise, 
A  softer  wonder  my  pleas'd  soul  surveys: 
The  mild  Erinna  blushing  in  her  bays.'] 
See  Carruthers's  Life. 

8  {Codille:  cf.  Rape  of  the  Lock,  Canto  in. 
V.  92.] 


248  MORAL  ESSAYS, 

I  Spleen,  Vapours,  or  Small-pox,  above  them  all, 
I  And  Mistress  of  herself,  tho'  China  fall. ^ 

And  yet,  believe  me,  good  as  well  as  ill, 
Woman  's  at  best  a  Contradiction  still.  270 

Heav'n,  when  it  strives  to  polish  all  it  can 
Its  last  best  work,  but  forms  a  softer  Man ; 
Picks  from  each  sex,  to  make  the  FavVite  blest, 
Your  love  of  Pleasure,  or  desire  of  Rest : 

Blends,  in  exception  to  all  genVal  rules,  275 

Your  Taste  of  Follies,,  with  our  Scorn  of  Fools : 
Reserve  with  Frankness,  Art  with  Truth  allvM, 
Courage  with  Softness,  Modesty  with  Pride ; 
Fix'd  Principles,  with  Fancy  ever  new ; 
Shakes  all  together,  and  produces  —  You.^  280 

Be  this  a  Woman's  Fame :  with  this  unblest, 
Toasts  live  a  scorn,  and  Queens  may  die  a  jest. 
This  Phoebus  promis'd  (1  forget  the  year) 
When  those  blue  eyes  first  open'd  on  the  sphere ; 
Ascendant  Phoebus  watched  that  hour  with  care,  285 

Averted  half  your  Parents'  simple  Pray'r ; 
And  gave  you  Beauty,  but  deny'd  the  Pelf 
That  buys  your  sex  a  Tyrant  o'er  itself. 
The  gen'rous  God,  who  Wit  and  Gold  refines, 
And  ripens  Spirits  as  he  ripens  Mines,  290 

Kept  Dross  for  Duchesses,  the  world  shall  know  it,* 
To  you  gave  Sense,  Good-humour,  and  a  Poet. 

EPISTLE   III.4  1^1^ 

To  Allen  Lord  Bathurst.5 

ARGUMENT. 

Of  the  Use  of  RICHES. 

THAT  it  is  known  to  few,  most  falling  into  one  of  the  extremes,  Avarice  or  Profusion, 
V.  I,  &c.  The  point  discussed,  whether  the  invention  of  Money  has  been  more  commodious 
or  pernicious  to  Mankind,  v.  21  to  'j'j.     That  Riches,  either  to  the  Avaricious  or  the 

1  Addison  has  touched  this  subject  with  his  tide  in  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Burlington ;  at  the 
usual  exquisite  humour  in  the  Lover,  No.  lo,  end  of  which  are  these  words:  "  I  have  learnt 
quoting  Epictetus,  to  comfort  a  Lady  that  that  there  are  some  who  would  rather  be  wicked 
labours  under  this  heavy  calamity.     Warton.  than  ridiculous:  and  therefore  it  may  be  safer  to 

2  [Warton  compares  Swift's:  attack  vices  than  follies.  I  will  therefore  leave 
*  Jove  mix'd  up  all,  and  his  best  clay  employ'd,  my  betters  in  the  quiet  possession  of  their  idols, 
Then  call'd  the  happy  composition — Floyd.']  their  groves,  and  their  high  places;  and  change 

3  [Yet  it  was  for  Martha  Blount,  to  whom  my  subject  from  their  pride  to  their  meanness, 
these  compliments  are  addressed,  that  Pope  from  their  vanities  to  their  miseries;  and  as  the 
seems  to  have  taken  the  dross  of  the  Duchess  only  certain  way  to  avoid  misconstructions,  to 
of  Marlborough.     V.  ante.^  lessen  offence,  and  not  to  multiply  ill-natured 

*  This  Epistle  was  written  after  a  violent  out-  applications,  I  may  probably,  in  my  next,  make 

cry  against  our  Author,  on  a  supposition  that  he  use  of  real  names  instead  of  fictitious  ones,"    P. 

had  ridiculed  a  worthy  nobleman  merely  for  his  ^  [Allen  Apsley  Lord  Bathurst,  a  Tory  peer, 

wrong  taste.     He  justified  himself  upon  that  ar-  was  one  of  the  most  intimate  of  Pope's  friends 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  249 

Prodigal,  cannot  afford  Happiness,  scarcely  Necessaries,  v.  89-160.  That  Avarice  is  an 
absolute  Frenzy,  without  an  End  or  Purpose,  v.  113,  &c.  152.  Conjectures  about  the 
Motives  of  Avaricious  men,  v.  121  to  153.  That  the  conduct  of  men,  with  respect  to 
Riches,  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  the  ORDER  OF  PROVIDENCE,  which  works  the  gen- 
eral Good  out  of  Extremes,  and  brings  all  to  its  great  End  by  perpetual  Revolutions,  v. 
161  to  178.  How  a  Miser  acts  upon  Principles  which  appear  to  him  reasonable,  v.  179. 
How  a  Prodigal  does  the  satne,  v.  199.  The  due  Mediufn,  and  true  use  of  Riches,  v.  219. 
The  Man  ^/Ross,  v.  250.  The  fate  of  the  Profuse  and  the  Covetous,  in  two  examples  ; 
both  miserable  in  Life  and  in  Death,  v.  300,  &c.  The  Story  of  Sir  Balaam,  v.  339  to 
the  end. 

P.  "X  T  7H0  shall  decide,  when  Doctors  disagree, 

V  V    And  soundest  Casuists  doubt,  like  you  and  me? 
You  hold  the  word,  from  Jove  to  Momus^  giv'n 
That  Man  was  made  the  standing  jest  of  Heav'n ; 
And  Gold  but  sent  to  keep  the  fools  in  play,  5 

For  some  to  heap,  and  some  to  throw  away. 

But  I,  who  think  more  highly  of  our  kind, 
(And  surely,  Heav'n  and  I  are  of  a  mind) 
Opine,  that  Nature,  as  in  duty  bound. 

Deep  hid  the  shining  mischief  under  ground :  lO 

But  when  by  Man's  audacious  labour  won, 
Flam'd  forth  this  rival  to  its  Sire,  the  Sun, 
Then  careful  Heav'n  supply 'd  two  sorts  of  Men, 
To  squander  These,  and  Those  to  hide  again. 

Like  Doctors  thus,  when  much  dispute  has  past,  15 

We  find  our  tenets  just  the  same  at  last. 
Both  fairly  owing  Riches,  in  eifect, 
No  grace  of  Heaven  or  token  of  th'  Elect ; 
Giv'n  to  the  Fool,  the  Mad,  the  Vain,  the  Evil, 
To  Ward,2  to  Waters,^  Chartres,^  and  the  Devil.2  20 

and  associates.  *  He  united,'  says  Carruthers,  real  estate  to  his  brother  and  son,  and  conceal'd 
*  a  sort  of  French  vivacity  '  [*  Bathurst  impetu-  all  his  personal,  which  was  computed  to  be  one 
ous,  whom  you  and  I  strive  who  shall  love  the  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds.  These 
most,'  is  the  mention  of  him  in  Gay's  catalogue  conveyances  being  also  set  aside  by  a  bill  in 
of  Pope's  friends]  *  to  English  principles,  and  Chancery,  W^ard  was  imprisoned,  and  hazarded 
mingled  freely  in  society  till  past  ninety,  living  the  forfeiture  of  his  life,  by  not  giving  in  his 
to  walk  under  the  shade  of  lofty  trees  which  effects  till  the  last  day,  which  was  that  of  his  ex- 
Pope  and  he  had  planted,  and  to  see  his  son  amination.  During  his  confinement,  his  amuse- 
Lord  Chancellor  of  England.'  He  died  in  the  ment  was  to  give  poison  to  dogs  and  cats,  and  to 
year  1774,  at  the  age  of  91.]  see  them  expire  by  slower  or  quicker  torments. 

1  [Momus  (derisive  blame)  is  personified  as  To  sum  up  the  worth  of  this  gentleman,  at  the 
a  god  in  the  Theogony  of  Hesiod.]  several  sera's  of  his  life.  At  his  standing  in  the 

2  John  Ward,  of  Hackney,  Esq. ;  Member  of  Pillory  he  was  ivorth  above  two  hundred  thou- 
Parliament,  being  prosecuted  by  the  Duchess  of  sand potinds;  at  his  commitment  to  Prison,  he 
Buckingham,  and  convicted  of  Forgery,  was  first  was  worth  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand; 
expelled  the  House,  and  then  stood  in  the  Pil-  but  has  been  since  so  far  diminished  in  his reputa- 
lory  on  the  17th  of  March,  1727.  He  was  sus-  tion,  as  to  be  thought  a  -worse  man  hy  fifty  or 
pected  of  joining  in  a  conveyance  with  Sir  John  sixty  thousand.  P.  [From  Pope's  intimate  ac- 
Blunt,  to  secrete  fifty  thousand  pounds  of  that  quaintance  with  Mr.  Ward's  career,  it  might  al- 
Director's  Estate,  forfeited  to  the  South-Sea  most  be  suspected  that  he  is  the  same  who  is  enu- 
Company  by  Act  of  Parliament.  The  company  merated  among  Pope's  friends  in  Gay's  poem.] 
recovered  the  fifty  thousand  pounds  against  Mr.  Waters,  the  third  of  these  worthies, 
Ward ;  but  he  set  up  prior  conveyances  of  his  was  a  man  no  way  resembling  the  former  in  his 


250 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


B.     What  nature  wants,  commodious  ^  Gold  bestows, 

'T  is  thus  we  eat  the  bread  another  sows. 

P.     But  how  unequal  it  bestows,  observe, 

'T  is  thus  we  riot,  while,  who  sow  it,  starve : 

What  Nature  wants  (a  phrase  I  much  distrust) 

Extends  to  Luxury,  extends  to  Lust : 

Useful,  I  grant,  it  serves  what  life  requires, 

But,  dreadful  too,  the  dark  Assassin  hires : 

B.     Trade  it  may  help.  Society  extend. 

P.     But  lures  the  Pirate,  and  corrupts  the  Friend. 

B.     It  raises  Armies  in  a  Nation's  aid. 

P.     But  bribes  a  Senate,  and  the  Land  -s  betrayed. 

In  vain  may  Heroes  fight,  and  Patriots  rave ; 

If  secret  Gold  sap  on  from  knave  to  knave.^ 


25 


30 


military,  but  extremely  so  in  his  civil  capacity; 
his  great  fortune  having  been  rais'd  by  the  like 
diligent  attendance  on  the  necessities  of  others. 
But  this  gentleman's  history  must  be  deferred 
till  his  death,  when  his  worth  may  be  known 
more  certainly.     P. 

Fr.  Chartres,  a  man  infamous  for  all  man- 
ner of  vices.  When  he  was  an  ensign  in  the 
army,  he  was  drumm'd  out  of  the  regiment  for 
a  cheat;  he  was  next  banish'd  Brussels,  and 
drumm'd  out  of  Ghent  on  the  same  account. 
After  a  hundred  tricks  at  the  gaming  tables,  he 
took  to  lending  of  money  at  exorbitant  interest 
and  on  great  penalties,  accumulating  premium, 
interest,  and  capital  into  a  new  capital,  and  seiz- 
ing to  a  minute  when  the  payments  became 
due;  in  a  word,  by  a  constant  attention  to  the 
vices,  wants,  and  follies  of  mankind,  he  ac- 
quired an  immense  fortune.  His  house  was  a 
perpetual  bawdy-house.  He  was  twice  con- 
demn'd  for  rapes,  and  pardoned:  but  the  last 
time  not  without  imprisonment  in  Newgate,  and 
large  confiscations.  He  died  in  Scotland  in 
1731,  aged  62.  The  populace  at  his  funeral 
rais'd  a  great  riot,  almost  tore  the  body  out  of 
the  coffin,  and  cast  dead  dogs,  &c,  into  the  grave 
along  with  it.  The  following  Epitaph  contains 
his  character  very  justly  drawn  by  Dr.  Arbuth- 
not; 

HERE  continueth  to  rot 

The  Body  of  FRANCIS  CHARTRES, 

Who  with  an  inflexible  constancy, 

and  Inimitable  Uniformity  of  Life, 

Persisted, 

In  spite  of  Age  and  Infirmities, 

In  the  Practice  of  Every  Human  Vice; 

Excepting  Prodigality  and  Hypocrisy: 

His  insatiable  Avarice  exempted  him  from  i'  e 

first. 

His  matchless  Impudence  from  the  second. 

Nor  was  he  more  singular 


in  the  undeviating  Pravity  of  his  Manners 

Than  successful 

in  Ac  cumulating '^■E.KVin. 

For,  without  Trade  or  Profession, 

Without  Trust  of  Public  Money, 

And  without  Bribe-worthy  Service, 

He  acquired,  or  more  properly  created, 

A  Ministerial  Estate. 

He  was  the  only  Person  of  his  Time, 

Who  could  cheat  without   the   Mask  of 

Honesty, 

Retain  his  Primeval  Meanness 

When  possess'd  of  Ten  Thousand  a  Year, 

And  having  daily  deserved  the  Gibbet  for  what 

he  did, 

Was  at  last  condemn'd  to  it  for  what  he  could 

not  do. 

Oh  Indignant  Reader! 

Think  not  his  Life  useless  to  Mankind! 

Providence  conniv'd  at  his  execrable  Designs, 

To  give  to  After- ages 

A  conspicuous  Proof  and  Example, 

Of  how  small  Estimation  is  Exorbitant  Wealth 

in  the  Sight  of  GOD, 
By  his  bestowing  it  on  the  most  unworthy  of 

ALL  Mortals. 
This   Gentleman  was  worth  seven  thousand 
Po7inds  a  year  estate  in  Land,  and  about  one 
hundred  thozisand  in  Money.     P. 

aiid  the  Devil.'\  Alluding  to  the  vulgar 
opinion,  that  all  mines  of  metal  and  subterra- 
neous treasures  are  in  the  guard  of  the  Devil : 
which  seems  to  have  taken  its  rise  from  the 
pagan  fable  of  Plutus  the  God  of  Riches.  War- 
burton.  [The  name  of  Pluton,  given  to  the 
God  beneath  the  surface  who  sends  forth  the 
wealth  of  corn,  probably  originated  in  the  Eleu- 
sinian  Mysteries.] 

^  Commodious,  i  e.  accommodating.] 
2  //"  scr-^et    Gold    sap   on  from   knave  to 
knave  ]     The  expression  is  fine,  and  gives  us 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  251 

Once,  we  confess,  beneath  the  Patriot's  cloak,^  35 

From  the  crack'd  bag  the  dropping  Guinea  spoke, 

And  jingling  down  the  back-stairs,  told  the  crew, 

"  Old  Cato  is  as  great  a  Rogue  as  you." 

Blest  paper-credit !  last  and  best  supply !  2 

That  lends  Corruption  lighter  wings  to  fly!  40 

Gold  imp'd  ^  by  thee,  can  compass  hardest  things, 

Can  pocket  States,  can  fetch  or  carry  Kings  ;* 

A  single  leaf  shall  waft  an  Army  o'er. 

Or  ship  oif  Senates  to  a  distant  Shore ;  ^ 

A  leaf,  like  SibyPs,  scatter  to  and  fro  45 

Our  fates  and  fortunes,  as  the  winds  shall  blow : 

Pregnant  with  thousands  flits  the  Scrap  unseen, 

And  silent  sells  a  King,  or  buys  a  Queen. ^ 

Oh !  that  such  bulky  Bribes  as  all  might  see, 
Still,  as  of  old,  encumbered  Villainy !  "^  50 

Could  France  or  Rome  divert  our  brave  designs, 
With  all  their  brandies  or  with  all  their  wines  ? 
What  could  they  moje  than  Knights  and  Squires  confound, 
Or  water  all  the  Quorum ^  ten  miles  round? 
A  Stateman's  slumbers  how  this  speech  would  spoil!  55 

"  Sir,  Spain  has  sent  a  thousand  jars  of  oil ; 
Huge  bales  of  British  cloth  blockade  the  door ; 
A  hundred  oxen  at  your  levee  roar." 

Poor  Avarice  one  torment  more  would  find ; 
Nor  could  Profusion  squander  all  in  kind.  60 

the  image  of  a  place  invested,  where  the  ap-  wings  by  new  feathers.     (Cf.  the  German  impf- 

proaches  are  made  by  communications  which  en,  to  engraft.)] 

support  each  other ;  as  the  connexions  amongst         ^ —/etch  or  carry  Kings ;'\     In  our  author's 

knaves,  after  they  have  been  taken  in  by  a  state  time,  many  Princes  had  been   sent  about  the 

engineer,  serve   to  screen   and  encourage  one  world,  and  great  changes  of  Kings  projected  in 

another's  private  corruptions.  Europe.    The  partition-treaty  had  disposed  of 

1  — beneath  the  Patriot's  cloak,"]    This  is  a  Spain;  France  had  set  up  a  King  for  England, 

true   story,   which   happened   in   the   reign   of  who  was  sent  to  Scotland,  and  back  again;  King 

William  III.  to  an  unsuspected  old  Patriot,  who  Stanislaus  was  sent  to  Poland,  and  back  again; 

coming  out  at  the  back-door  from  having  been  the  Duke  of  Anjou  was  sent  to  Spain,  and  Don 

closeted  by  the  King,  where  he  had  receiv'd  a  Carlos  to  Italy.     P. 

large  bag  of  Guineas,  the  bursting  of  the  bag         ^  Qf  ship  off  Senates  to  a  distant  Shore;] 

discovered  his  business  there.     P.     [According  Alludes  to  several  Ministers,  Counsellors,  and 

to  Warburton,   quoting    Burnet,   this  was   Sir  Patriots  banished  in  our  times  to  Siberia,  and  to 

Christopher  Musgrave,  who  as  a  leader  of  op-  that  more  glorious  fate  of  the  Parliament 

position  was  induced  by  King  William  III.  to  of  Paris,  banished  to  Pontoise  in  the  year  1720. 
give  up  many  points  of  importance  at  the  critical  P. 

minute,  in  return  for  payments  amounting  in         ^  [The  allusion  seems  to  be  to  the  Pretender 

the  total  to  ;^i 2, 000.]  'King    James    III.'    and    to  Queen  Caroline. 

'^paper-credit,    [In  1733  the  privileges  of  the  There  are  no  grounds  for  such  an  imputation 

Bank  of  England  were  renewed.     In  the  same  upon  the  latter;  but  the  taunt  might  be  applied 

year,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  Barnard  and  with  much  force  to  her  unhappy  later  namesake.] 
others,  Walpole   openly  availed  himself  of  the         '^  After  v.  50,  in  the  MS. 

Sinking  Fund,  and  before  1737  had  mortgaged  *  To  break  a  trust  were  Peter  brib'd  with  wine, 

and  alienated  its  entire  produce.]  Peter!  't  would  pose  as  wise  a  head  as  thine.' 

3  Imfd  [i.e.  fresh-winged.    To  imp  is  a  term         ®  [i.e.  every  justice  of  peace.] 
of  falconry,  used  of  the  repairing  of  the  falcon's 


252  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

Astride  his  cheese  ^  Sir  Morgan  might  we  meet ; 
And  Worldly  crying  coals  from  street  to  street,^ 
Whom  with  a  wig  so  wild,  and  mien  so  maz'd, 
Pity  mistakes  for  some  poor  tradesman  craz'd. 
Had  Colepepper's  ^  whole  wealth  been  hops  and  hogs,  65 

Could  he  himself  have  sent  it  to  the  dogs  ? 
His  Grace  will  game :  to  White's  *  a  Bull  be  led, 
With  spurning  heels  and  with  a  butting  head. 
To  White's  be  carry'd,  as  to  ancient  games, 

Fair  Coursers,  Vases,  and  alluring  Dames.  70 

Shall  then  Uxorio,  if  the  stakes  he  sweep, 
Bear  home  six  Whores,  and  make  his  Lady  weep? 
Or  soft  Adonis,  so  perfum'd  and  fine, 
Drive  to  St.  James's  a  whole  herd  of  swine? 

Oh  filthy  check  on  all  industrious  skill,  75 

To  spoil  the  nation's  last  great  trade,  Quadrille !  ^ 
Since  then,  my  Lord,  on  such  a  World  we  fall. 
What  say  you?     B.     Say?     Why  take  it.  Gold  and  all. 
P.     What  Riches  give  us  let  us  then  enquire : 
Meat,  Fire,  and  Clothes.     B.     What  more?     P.     Meat,  Clothes, 
and  Fire.  80 

Is  this  too  little?  would  you  more  than  live? 
Alas!  't  is  more  than  Turner^  finds  they  give. 
Alas!  't  is  more  than  (all  his  Visions  past) 
Unhappy  Wharton,"'^  waking,  found  at  last! 
What  can  they  give?  to  dying  Hopkins,^  Heirs ;  85 

1  [As  a  Welshman  attached  to  a  cheap  na-  Coach,  because  Interest  was  reduced  from  five 
tional  delicacy.]  to  ionr  per  cent,  and  then  put  seventy  thousand 

2  Some  Misers  of  great  wealth,  proprietors  into  the  Charitable  Corporation  for  better  inter- 
of  the  coal-mines,  had  entered  at  this  time  into  est;  which  sum  having  lost,  he  took  it  so  much 
an  association  to  keep  up  coals  to  an  extravagant  to  heart,  that  he  kept  his  chamber  ever  after, 
price,  whereby  the  poor  were  reduced  almost  to  It  is  thought  he  would  not  have  outlived  it,  but 
starve,  till  one  of  them  taking  the  advantage  of  that  he  was  heir  to  another  considerable  estate, 
underselling  the  rest,  defeated  the  design.  One  which  he  daily  expected,  and  that  by  this  course 
of  these  Misers  was  worth  ten  thousand^  an-  of  life  he  saved  both  cloaths  and  all  other  ex- 
other  seven  thousand  a  year.     P.  penses.    P. 

3  Colepepper'\  Sir  William  Colepepper,  Bart.,  ^  Unhappy  Wharton^  A  Nobleman  of  great 
a  person  of  an  ancient  family,  and  ample  fort-  qualities,  but  as  unfortunate  in  the  application 
une,  without  one  other  quality  of  a  Gentleman,  of  them,  as  if  they  had  been  vices  and  follies, 
who,  after  ruining  himself  at  the  Gaming-table,  See  his  Character  in  the  first  Epistle.  P.  [v.  179.] 
past  the  rest  of  his  days  in  sitting  there  to  see  «  Hopkins^  A  Citizen,  whose  rapacity  ob- 
the  ruin  of  others;  preferring  to  subsist  upon  tained  him  the  name  of  Vulture  Hopkins.  He 
borrowing  and  begging,  rather  than  to  enter  into  lived  worthless,  but  died  worth  three  hundred 
any  reputable  method  of  life,  and  refusing  a  post  thousand  pounds,  which  he  would  give  to  no 
in  the  army  which  was  offered  him.     P.  person  living,  but  left  it  so  as  not  to  be  inherited 

*  [The    famous    Club-house    in    St.   James'  till   after  the   second  generation.     His  counsel 

Street,  where  games  of  chance  were  played  for  representing  to  him  how  many  years  it  must  be, 

the  highest  stakes.]  before  this  could  take  effect,  and  that  his  money 

^  [The  game  of  Quadrille,  which  is  a  species  could  only  lie  at  interest  all  that  time,  he  ex- 

of  Ombre,  soon  came  to  surpass  the  latter  in  pressedgreat  joy  thereat,  and  said, "  They  would 

popularity.]  then  be  as  long  in  spending,  as  he  had  been  in 

0  Tur?ier'\    One,   who,   being  possessed   of  getting  it."     But   the   Chancery  afterwards  set 

three  hundred  thousand  pounds,  laid  down  his  aside  the  will,  and  gave  it  to  the  heir  at  law,    P, 


MORAL  ESSAYS,  253 

To  Chartres,  Vigour;  Japhet,  Nose  and  Ears?^ 

Can  they,  in  gems  bid  pallid  Hippia  glow, 

In  Fulvia^s  buckle  ease  the  throbs  below ; 

Or  heal,  old  Narses,  thy  obscener  ail. 

With  all  th'  embroidery  plaister'd  at  thy  tail?  90 

They  might  (were  Harpax  not  too  wise  to  spend) 

Give  Harpax'  self  the  blessing  of  a  friend  ; 

Or  find  some  Doctor  that  would  save  the  life 

Of  wretched  Shylock,  spite  of  Shylock's  Wife : 

But  thousands  die,  without  or  this  or  that,  95 

Die,  and  endow  a  College,  or  a  Cat.^ 

To  some  indeed,  Heav'n  grants  the  happier  fate, 

T'  enrich  a  Bastard,  or  a  Son  they  hate. 

Perhaps  you  think  the  Poor  might  have  their  part? 
Bond  damns  the  Poor,  and  hates  them  from  his  heart :  •  lOO 

The  grave  Sir  Gilbert^  holds  it  for  a  rule. 
That  "  ev'ry  man  in  want  is  knave  or  fool : 
God  cannot  love  (says  Blunt,  with  tearless  eyes) 
The  wretch  he  starves"  —  and  piously  denies; 
But  the  good  Bishop,^  with  a  meeker  air,  I05 

Admits,  and  leaves  them.  Providence's  care. 

Yet,  to  be  just  to  these  poor  men  of  pelf. 
Each  does  but  hate  his  neighbour  as'  himself: 
Damn'd  to  the  Mines,  an  equal  fate  betides 

The  Slave  that  digs  it,  and  the  Slave  that  hides.  no 

B.     Who  suiferthus,  mere  Charity  should  own, 

1  Japhet,  Nose  and  Ears  /']  Japhet  Crook,  tion  was  established  to  lend  money  to  the  poor 
alias  Sir  Peter  Stranger,  was  punished  with  upon  pledges,  by  the  name  of  the  Charitable 
the  loss  of  those  parts,  for  having  forged  a  con-  Corporation  ;  but  the  whole  was  turned  only 
veyance  of  an  Estate  to  himself,  upon  which  he  to  an  iniquitous  method  of  enriching  particular 
took  up  several  thousand  pounds.  He  was  at  people,  to  the  ruin  of  such  numbers,  that  it  be- 
the  same  time  sued  in  Chancery  for  having  came  a  parliamentary  concern  to  endeavour  the 
fraudulently  obtained  a  Will,  by  which  he  pes-  relief  of  those  unhappy  sufferers,  and  three  of 
sessed  another  considerable  Estate,  in  wrong  of  the  managers,  who  were  members  of  the  house, 
the  brother  of  the  deceased.  By  these  means  he  were  expell'd.  By  the  report  of  the  committee, 
was  worth  a  great  sum,  which  (in  reward  for  appointed  to  enquire  into  that  iniquitous  affair, 
the  small  loss  of  his  ears)  he  enjoyed  in  prison  it  appears,  that  when  it  was  objected  to  the  in- 
till  his  death,  and  quietly  left  to  his  executor.   P.  tended  removal  of  the  office,  that  the  Poor,  for 

2  Die,  and  endow  a  College,  or  a  Cat.]  A  whose  use  it  was  erected,  would  be  hurt  by  it, 
famous  Dutchess  of  Richmond  in  her  last  will  Bond,  one  of  the  Directors,  replied,  Damn  the 
left  considerable  legacies  and  annuities  to  her  Poor.  That  "  God  hates  the  poor,"  and,  "  That 
Cats.  P.  [Warton  more  than  vindicates  the  every  man  in  want  is  knave  or  fool,"  &c.  were 
memory  of  this  famous  beauty  of  Charles  II. 's  the  genuine  apothegms  of  some  of  the  persons 
court  from  Pope's  taunt  by  stating  that  she  left  here  mentioned,  P.  [Dennis  Bond,  a  member 
annuities  to  certain  poor  ladies  of  her  acquaint-  of  Parliament,  died  in  1747.  Carruthers.] 
ance,  with  the  burden  of  maintaining  some  of  *  [Sir  Gilbert  Heathcote,  director  of  the  Bank 
her  cats;  this  proviso  being  intended  to  disguise  of  England,  and  one  of  the  richest  men  of  his 
the  charitable  character  of  the  bequests.     In  day.] 

Hamburgh,  an  annuity  was  not  long  ago  left  to        ^  [The  imaginary  Bishop  was  at  Warburton's 

the  Swans  which  adorn  the  famous  Alster-lake  request  substituted  for  the  name  of  a  real  person 

in  that  city.]  of  whose  virtual  innocence  in  the  matter  War- 

3  Bond  damns  the  Poor,  &'c.']     This  epistle  burton  felt  convinced.] 
was  written  in  the  year  1730,  when  a  corpora- 


254 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


Must  act  on  motives  powerful,  tho'  unknown. 

P.     Some  War,  some  Plague,  or  Famine  they  foresee, 

Some  Revelation  hid  from  you  and  me. 

Why  Shylock  wants  a  meal,  the  cause  is  found,  II5 

He  thinks  a  Loaf  will  rise  to  fifty  pound. 

What  made  Directors  cheat  in  South-sea  year  ?  ^ 

To  live  on  Ven'son  when  it  sold  so  dear.^ 

Ask  you  why  Phryne  the  whole  Auction  buys  ?  ^ 

Phryne  foresees  a  general  Excise.^  120 

Why  she  and  Sappho^  raise  that  monstrous  sum? 

Alas!  they  fear  a  man  will  cost  a  plum. 

Wise  Peter  ^  sees  the  World's  respect  for  Gold, 
And  therefore  hopes  this  Nation  may  be  sold : 
Glorious  Ambition!     Peter,  swell  thy  store,  125 

And  be  what  Rome's  great  Didius  '^  was  before. 

The  Crown  of  Poland,  venal  twice  an  age,^ 
To  just  three  millions  stinted  modest  Gage.^ 
But  nobler  scenes  Maria's  dreams  unfold, 


*  [South-sea year :  1720;  in  August  the  stock 
of  the  South  Sea  Company  had  risen  to  looo; 
by  the  end  of  September  it  had  fallen  to  300; 
and  the  news  of  the  failure  of  Law's  Mississippi 
scheme  in  Paris  completed  the  crash  which  re- 
duced thousands  of  families  to  beggary.  Pope 
himself  told  Atterbury  that  after  the  bursting  of 
the  bubble  he  remained  with  '  half  what  he  imag- 
ined he  had,'  probably  meaning  half  his  gains, 
as  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  sold 
out  in  time.] 

2  To  live  on  Ven'son]  In  the  extravagance 
and  luxury  of  the  South-sea  year,  the  price  of 
a  haunch  of  Venison  was  from  three  to  five 
pounds.     P. 

3  [Sir  Robert  Walpole's  scheme  of  the  year 
1733  for  bringing  the  tobacco-  and  wine-duties 
under  the  laws  of  excise,  was  magnified  by 
report  into  the  design  of  a  general  excise  upon 
all  articles  of  consumption.  The  popular  fer- 
ment which  the  proposal  aroused  led  to  its 
abandonment.  See  Lord  Stanhope's  History 
of  England,  Chap,  xvi.] 

*  — general  Excise']  Many  people  about  the 
year  1733  had  a  conceit  that  such  a  thing  was 
intended,  of  which  it  is  not  improbable  this  lady 
might  have  some  intimation.  P.  [In  1733  Wal- 
pole  contemplated  a  comprehensive  measure  for 
adding  to  the  excise-duties,  and  reforming  the 
whole  administration  of  the  revenue :  a  cry  was 
set  up  against  the  measure  by  the  Opposition, 
and  the  country,  terrified  by  the  bugbear  of  a 
general  excise.  Pulteney  headed  the  opposition 
in  Parliament,  while  the  prejudices  of  the  public 
were  worked  upon  in  the  Craftsmayi.  Walpole 
was  forced  to  withdraw  his  excellent  proposal.] 


5  [Pope  himself  advised  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu 
to  purchase  South-sea  stock  in  August  1720.] 

6  Wise  Peter^  Peter  Walter,  a  person  not 
only  eminent  in  the  wisdom  of  his  profession,  as 
a  dextrous  attorney,  but  allowed  to  be  a  good, 
if  not  a  safe  conveyancer;  extremely  respected 
by  the  Nobility  of  this  land,  tho'  free  from  all 
manner  of  luxury  and  ostentation:  his  Wealth 
was  never  seen,  and  his  bounty  never  heard  of, 
except  to  his  own  son,  for  whom  he  procured  an 
employment  of  considerable  profit,  of  which  he 
gave  him  as  much  as  was  necessary.  Therefore 
the  taxing  this  gentleman  with  any  Ambition, 
is  certainly  a  great  wrong  to  him.  P.  [The 
'  Waters'  of  v,  20.] 

"^  Rome's  great  Didius]  A  Roman  Lawyer, 
so  rich  as  to  purchase  the  Empire  when  it  was 
set  to  sale  upon  the  death  of  Pertinax.  P. 
[Didius  Julianus  a.d.  193.  The  vendors  were 
the  Praetorian  Guards.] 

8  TAe  Crown  of  Poland,  &}=c.'\  The  two 
persons  here  mentioned  were  of  Quality,  each 
of  whom  in  the  Mississippi  despis'd  to  realize 
above  three  hundred  thousand  pounds;  the 
Gentleman  with  a  view  to  the  purchase  of  the 
Crown  of  Poland,  the  Lady  on  a  vision  of 
the  like  royal  nature.  They  since  retired  into 
Spain,  where  they  are  still  in  search  of  gold  in 
the  mines  of  the  Asturies.     P. 

9  A  Mr.  Gage,  of  the  ancient  Suffolk  Catholic 
family  of  that  name;  and  Lady  Mary  Herbert, 
daughter  of  the  Marquess  of  Powis  and  of  a  nat- 
ural daughter  of  James  II.;  whence  the  phrase 
*  hereditary  realms.*    Bowles. 


MORAL  ESSAYS,  255 

Hereditary  Realms,  and  worlds  of  Gold.  130 

Congenial  souls!  whose  life  one  Av Vice  joins, 
And  one  fate  buries  in  th'  Asturian  Mines. 

Much  injur'd  Blunt!  ^  why  bears  he  Britain's  hate? 
A  wizard  told  him  in  these  words  our  fate : 
"At  length  Corruption,  like  a  genVal  flood,  135 

(So  long  by  watchful  Ministers  withstood) 
Shall  deluge  all ;  and  Av'rice,  creeping  on, 
Spread  like  a  low-born  mist,  and  blot  the  Sun ; 
Statesman  and  Patriot  ply  alike  the  stocks, 
Peeress  and  Butler  share  alike  the  Box,  140 

And  Judges  job,  and  Bishops  bite  the  town. 
And  mighty  Dukes  pack  Cards  for  half  a  crown. 
See  Britain  sunk  in  lucre's  sordid  charms. 
And  France  revenged  of  Anne's  and  Edward's  arms?" 
'T  was  no  Court-badge,  great  Scriv'ner!  fir'd  thy  brain,         145 
Nor  lordly  Luxury,  nor  City  Gain : 
No,  't  was  thy  righteous  end,  asham'd  to  see 
Senates  degen'rate.  Patriots  disagree. 
And,  nobly  wishing  Party-rage  to  cease. 
To  buy  both  sides,  and  give  thy  Country  peace.  150 

"  All  this  is  madness,"  cries  a  sober  sage : 
But  who,  my  friend,  has  reason  in  his  rage? 
"  The  ruling  Passion,  be  it  what  it  will, 
The  ruling  Passion  conquers  Reason  still." 
Less  mad  the  wildest  whimsey  we  can  frame,  155 

Than  ev'n  that  Passion,  if  it  has  no  Aim ; 
For  tho'  such  motives  Folly  you  may  call. 
The  Folly  's  greater  to  have  none  at  all.^ 

Hear  then  the  truth  :  "  'T  is  Heav'n  each  Passion  sends, 
And  diff'rent  men  directs  to  diflf'rent  ends.  160 

Extremes  in  Nature  equal  good  produce. 
Extremes  in  Man  concur  to  gen'ral  use." 
Ask  we  what  makes  one  keep,  and  one  bestow? 
That  Pow'r  who  bids  the  Ocean  ebb  and  flow. 
Bids  seed-time,  harvest,  equal  course  maintain,  165 

Thro'  reconcil'd  extremes  of  drought  and  rain, 
Builds  life  on  Death,  on  Change  Duration  founds. 
And  gives  th'  eternal  wheels  to  know  their  rounds. 

Riches,  like  insects,  when  conceal'd  they  lie, 

1  Much  injur'd  Bluntf^    Sir    John    Blunt,  mentioned  is  not  certain,  but  it  was  constantly 

originally  a  scrivener,  was  one  of  the  first  pro-  in  this  very  style  he  declaimed  against  the  cor- 

jectors  of  the  South-sea  Company,  and  after-  ruption  and  luxury  of  the  age,  the  partiality  of 

wards  one  of  the  directors  and  chief  managers  Parliaments,  and  the  misery  of  party-spirit.    He 

of  the  *amous  scheme  in  1720.     He  was   also  was  particularly  eloquent  against  Avarice  in 

one  of  those  who  suffer'd  most  severely  by  the  great  and  noble  persons,  of  which  he  had  indeed 

bill  of  pains  and  penalties  on  the  said  directors,  lived  to  see  many  miserable  examples.    He  died 

He  w-aa  a  Dissenter  of  a  most  religious  deport-  in  the  year  1732.     P. 

ment;  and  professed   to  be  a  greater  believer.         ^  Verbatim  from  Rochefoucault.     Warton. 
Whether  he  dicj  really  credit  the  prophecy  here 


256  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

Wait  but  for  Wings,  and  in  their  season  fly.  170 

Who  see  pale  Mammon  pine  amidst  his  store, 

Sees  but  a  backward  steward  for  the  Poor ; 

This  year  a  Reservoir,  to  keep  and  spare ;  ^ 

The  next,  a  Fountain,  spouting  thro'  his  Heir, 

In  lavish  streams  to  quench  a  Country's  thirst,  175 

And  men  and  dogs  shall  drink  him  till  they  burst. 

Old  Cotta^  sham'd  his  fortune  and  his  birth, 
Yet  was  not  Cotta  void  of  wit  or  worth : 
What  tho'  (the  use  of  barbVous  spits  forgot) 
His  kitchen  vied  in  coolness  with  his  grot?^  180 

His  court  with  nettles,  moats  with  cresses  stor'd, 
With  soups  unbought^  and  salads  bless'd  his  board? 
If  Cotta  liv'd  on  pulse,  it  was  no  more 
Than  Brahmins,  Saints,  and  Sages  did  before ; 
To  cram  the  Rich  was  prodigal  expense,  185 

And  who  would  take  the  Poor  from  Providence? 
Like  some  lone  Chartreux  ^  stands  the  good  old  Hall, 
Silence  without,  and  Fasts  within  the  wall ; 
No  rafter'd  roofs  with  dance  and  tabor  sound, 
No  noontide-bell  invites  the  country  round ;  190 

Tenants  with  sighs  the  smokeless  towVs  survey, 
And  turn  th'  unwilling  steeds  another  way ; 
Benighted  wanderers,  the  forest  o'er. 
Curse  the  sav'd  candle,  and  unop'ning  door ; 
While  the  gaunt  mastiff  growling  at  the  gate,  195 

Affrights  the  beggar  whom  he  longs  to  eat. 

Not  so  his  Son  ;  he  mark'd  this  oversight, 
And  then  mistook  reverse  of  wrong  for  right. 
(For  what  to  shun  will  no  great  knowledge  need ; 
But  what  to  follow,  is  a  task  indeed.)  200 

Yet  sure,  of  qualities  deserving  praise, 
More  go  to  ruin  Fortunes,  than  to  raise. 
What  slaughtered  hecatombs,  what  floods  of  wine, 
Fill  the  capacious  Squire,  and  deep  Divine! 
Yet  no  mean  motive  this  profusion  draws,  205 

His  oxen  perish  in  his  country's  cause ; 
'T  is  George  and  Liberty  that  crowns  the- cup. 
And  Zeal  for  that  great  House  ^  which  eats  him  up. 
The  woods  recede  around  the  naked  seat ; 
The  Sylvans  groan  —  no  matter  —  for  the  Fleet ;  210 

Next  goes  his  Wool  —  to  clothe  our  valiant  bands  ; 

1  Taken  from  Fuller's  Church  History,  p.  28.    were  hot.'    Dryden,  Absalom  and  Achttophel, 

Warton.    I.] 

2  [Supposed  to  be  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,         *  With  soups  unboughf] 

who  died  in  171 1;  and  his  son,  the  well-known    — dapibus  mensas  onerabat  inemptis.    Virg.    P. 
peer  of  that  name,  who  afterwards  became  prime  {Geor£^.  IV.  133.] 

minister.     Carruthers.     [See  Macaulay's  por-         ^  [Carthusian  monastery.] 
trait  of  the  son  in  his  Essay  on  Chatham.]  ^  [Qf  Hanover.] 

^  [*  Cool  was  his  kitchen,  though  his  brains 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  257 

Last,  for  his  Country's  love,  he  sells  his  Lands. 

To  town  he  comes,  completes  the  nation's  hope, 

And  heads  the  bold  Train-bands,^  and  burns  a  Pope. 

And  shall  not  Britain  now  reward  his  toils,  215 

Britain,  that  pays  her  Patriots  with  her  Spoils? 

In  vain  at  Court  the  Bankrupt  pleads  his  cause, 

His  thankless  Country  leaves  him  to  her  Laws.^ 

The  Sense  to  value  Riches,  with  the  Art 
T'  enjoy  them,  and  the  Virtue  to  impart,  220 

Not  meanly,  nor  ambitiously  pursu'd. 
Not  sunk  by  sloth,  nor  rais'd  by  servitude ; 
To  balance  Fortune  by  a  just  expense, 
Join  with  Economy,  Magnificence ; 

With  Splendour,  Charity  ;  with  Plenty,  Health ;  225 

O  teach  us,  Bathurst!  yet  unspoil'd  by  wealth!  ^ 
That  secret  rare,  between  th'  extremes  to  move 
Of  mad  Good-nature,  and  of  mean  Self-love. 

B.     To  Worth  or  Want  well-weigh'd,  be  Bounty  giv'n, 
And  ease,  or  emulate,  the  care  of  Heav'n  ;  230 

(Whose  measure  full  o'erflows  on  human  race) 
Mend  Fortune's  fault,  and  justify  her  grace. 
Wealth  in  the  gross  is  death,  but  life  diffus'd ; 
As  Poison  heals,  in  just  proportion  us'd : 

In  heaps,  like  Ambergrise,  a  stink  it  lies,  235 

But  well-dispers'd,  is  Incense  to  the  Skies. 

P.     Who  starves  by  Nobles,  or  with  Nobles  eats? 
The  Wretch  that  trusts  them,  and  the  Rogue  that  cheats. 
Is  there  a  Lord,  who  knows  a  cheerful  noon 
Without  a  Fiddler,  Flatt'rer,  or  Buffoon  ?  240 

Whose  table.  Wit,  or  modest  Merit  share, 
Unelbow'd  by  a  Gamester,  Pimp,  or  Play'r? 
Who  copies  Your's  or  Oxford's  better  part,^ 
To  ease  th'  oppress'd,  and  raise  the  sinking  heart? 
Where-e'er  he  shines,  oh  Fortune,  gild  the  scene,  245 

And  Angels  guard  him  in  the  golden  Mean! 
There,  English  Bounty  yet  awhile  may  stand, 
And  Honour  linger  ere  it  leaves  the  land. 

But  all  our  praises  why  should  Lords  engross  ? 

1  [The  demonstrative   Protestantism  of  the  *  That  secret  rare,  with  affluence  hardly  join'd, 
Metropolis  is  the  subject  of  Dryden's  Medal.\  Which  W — n  lost,  yet  B — y  ne'er  could  find; 

2  After  V.  218  in  the  MS.  Still  miss'd  by  Vice,  and  scarce  by  Virtue  hit, 
'  Where  one  lean  herring  furnish'd  Cotta's  board,  By  G — 's  goodness,  or  by  S— 's  Wit.' 

And  nettles  grew,  fit  porridge  for  their  Lord;  [Possibly  Wharton,   Bingley,   Granville,  Shef« 

Where  mad  good-natured  bounty  misapply'd,  field.] 

In  lavish  Curio  blaz'd  awhile  and  dy'd;  *  Oxford's  better  Part,']   Edward  Harley, 

Their   Providence   once   more    shall    shift   the  Earl  of  Oxford.     The  son  of  Robert,  created 

scene,  Earl  of  Oxford  and  Earl  Mortimer  by  Queen 

And  shewing  H — y,  teach  the  Golden  mean.'  Anne.     This   nobleman   died    regretted   by  all 

Warburton.  men  of  letters,  great  numbers  of  whom  had  ex- 

[H — y  may  stand  for  Harley.]  perienced  his  benefits.     He  left  behind  him  one 

*  After  v.  226  in  the  MS.  of  the  most  noble  Libraries  in  Europe.    P. 


2S8  MORAL  ESSAYS, 

Rise,  honest  Muse!  and  sing  the  Man  of  Ross :  ^  250 

Pleas'd  Vaga  ^  echoes  thro'  her  winding  bounds, 

And  rapid  Severn  hoarse  applause  resounds. 

Who  hung  with  woods  yon  mountain's  sultry  brow? 

From  the  dry  rock  who  bade  the  waters  flow? 

Not  to  the  skies  in  useless  columns  tost,  255 

Or  in  proud  falls  magnificently  lost, 

But  clear  and  artless,  pouring  thro'  the  plain 

Health  to  the  sick,  and  solace  to  the  swain. 

Whose  Cause-way  parts  the  vale  with  shady  rows? 

Whose  Seats  the  weary  Traveller  repose?  260 

Who  taught  that  heav'n-directed  spire  to  rise? 

"The  Man  of  Ross,"  each  lisping  babe  replies. 

Behold  the  Market-place  with  poor  o'erspread! 

The  Man  of  Ross  divides  the  weekly  bread ; 

He  feeds  yon  Alms-house,  neat,  but  void  of  state,  265 

Where  Age  and  Want  sit  smiling  at  the  gate ; 

Him  portioned  maids,  apprenticed  orphans  blest, 

The  young  who  labour,  and  the  old  who  rest. 

Is  any  sick?  the  Man  of  Ross  relieves, 

Prescribes,  attends,  the  med'cine  makes,  and  gives.  270 

Is  there  a  variance  ;  enter  but  his  door, 

Balk'd  are  the  Courts,  and  contest  is  no  more. 

Despairing  Quacks  with  curses  fled  the  place, 

And  vile  Attorneys,  now  an  useless  race. 

B.     Thrice  happy  man!  enabled  to  pursue  275 

What  all  so  wish,  but  want  the  pow'r  to  do! 
Oh  say,  what  sums  that  gen'rous  hand  supply? 
What  mines,  to  swell  that  boundless  charity? 

P.     Of  Debts,  and  Taxes,  Wife  and  Children  clear. 
This  man  possest  —  five  hundred  pounds  a  year.  280 

Blush,  Grandeur,  blush!  proud  Courts,  withdraw  your  blaze! 
Ye  little  Stars!  hide  your  diminished  rays. 

B.     And  what?  no  monument,  inscription,  stone ?^ 
His  race,  his  form,  his  name  almost  unknown  ? 

P.     Who  builds  a  Church  to  God,  and  not  to  Fame,         285 

1  71^^  Man  ^  Ross:]  The  person  here  cele-         [Johnson,  in  his  life  of  Pope,  accoroingly 

brated,  who  with  a  small  Estate  actually  per-  censures  this  passage  as  in  vain  recommending 

formed  all  these  good  works,  and  whose  true  what  is  unattainable,  inasmuch  as  the  Man  of 

name  was  almost  lost  (partly  by  the  title  of  the  Ross  did  not  do  the  wonders  ascribed  to  him 

Man  of  Ross  given  him  by  way  of  eminence,  with  his  five  hundred  pounds  a  year.] 
and  partly  by  being  buried  without  so  much  as  After  v.  250  in  the  MS. 

an  inscription),  was  called  Mr.  John  Kyrle.    He  *  Trace  humble  worth  beyond  Sabrina's  shore, 

died  in  the  year  1724,  aged  90,  and  lies  interred  Who  sings  not  him,  oh  may  he  sing  no  more!' 
in  the  chancel  of  the  church  of  Ross  in  Here-  Warburton. 

fordshire.     P.  2  [  Vaga  is  Latin  name  of  the  river  Wye.] 

We  must  understand  what  is  here  said,  of         ^  [This  deficiency  was  afterwards  supplied  by 

actually  performing,  to  mean  by  the  contribu-  the  Earl  of  Kinnoul,  a  connexion  of  the  family 

tions  which  the  Man  of  Ross,  by  his  assiduity  of  the  Man  of  Ross.] 
and  interest,  collected  in  his  neighbourhood. 

Wariurton, 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


259 


Will  never  mark  the  marble  with  his  Name : 

Go,  search  it  there,^  where  to  be  born  and  die,^ 

Of  rich  and  poor  makes  all  the  history ; 

Enough,  that  Virtue  filPd  the  space  between ; 

Prov'd,  by  the  ends  of  being,  to  have  been.  290 

When  Hopkins  dies,3  a  thousand  lights  attend 

The  wretch,  who  living  sav'd  a  candle's  end : 

ShouldVing  God's  altar  a  vile  image  stands, 

Belies  his  features,  nay  extends  his  hands ; 

That  live-long  wig  which  Gorgon's  self  might  own,  295 

Eternal  buckle  takes  in  Parian  stone.* 

Behold  what  blessings  Wealth  to  life  can  lend ! 

And  see,  what  comfort  it  affords  our  end. 

In  the  worst  inn's  worst  room,  with  mat  half-hung, 
The  floors  of  plaister,  and  the  walls  of  dung,  300 

On  once  a  flock-bed,  but  repair'd  with  straw. 
With  tape-ty'd  curtains,  never  meant  to  draw. 
The  George  and  Garter  dangling  from  that  bed 
Where  tawdry  yellow  strove  with  dirty  red, 
Great  Villiers  lies  ^  —  alas !  how  chang'd  from  him,  305 

That  life  of  pleasure,  and  that  soul  of  whim ! 
Gallant  and  gay,  in  Cliveden's^  proud  alcove, 
The  bow'r  of  wanton  Shrewsbury  "^  and  love ; 
Or  just  as  gay,  at  Council,  in  a  ring 

Of  mimic'd  Statesmen,  and  their  merry  King.  310 

No  Wit  to  flatter  left  of  all  his  store! 
No  Fool  to  laugh  at,  which  he  valu'd  more. 
There,  Victor  of  his  health,  of  fortune,  friends, 
And  fame,  this  lord  of  useless  thousands  ends. 

*  Goy  search  it  there ^  The  Parish-register.  [George  Villiers  Duke  of  Buckingham,  the 

Warburton.  son  of  the  first  Duke  (the  favourite  and  minister 

2  Ver.  287  thus  in  the  MS.  of  James  I.  and  Charles  I.)  was  born  in  1637. 
*  The  Register  inrolls  him  with  his  Poor,  He  lost  his  estates  as  a  royalist,  but  recovered 
Tells  he  was  born  and  dy'd,  and  tells  no  more.  them  by  his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  Lord 
Just  as  he  ought,  he  fiU'd  the  Space  between;  Fairfax.  He  is  the  Zimri  of  the  Absalom  and 
Then  stole  to  rest,  unheeded  and  unseen.'  Achitophel  of  Dryden,  whom  he  had  ridiculed 

Warburton.  as  Bayes  in  the  burlesque  play  of  the  Rehearsal. 

3  Edmund  Boulter,  Esq.,  executor  to  Vulture  Thus  we  have  portraits  of  this  typical  hero  of 
Hopkins,  made  so  splendid  a  funeral  for  him,  the  Restoration  period  by  Dryden  and  Pope,  as 
that  the  expenses  amounted  to  ;^7666.     Bowles,  well  as  by  Burnet  and  Butler,  Count  Grammont 

*  Eterjial  buckle  takes  in  Parian  stone.]  and  Horace  Walpole.  The  tenant's  house  at 
The  poet  ridicules  the  wretched  taste  of  carving  which  he  died  (in  1687)  was  at  Kirby  Moor 
large  perriwigs  on  bustos,  of  which  there  are  Side,  near  Helmsly  in  Yoikshire.] 

several  vile  examples  in  the   tombs  at  West-         ^  Cliveden  ]  A  delightful  palace,  on  the  banks 

minster  and  elsewhere.     P.  of  the  Thames,  built  by  the  D.  of  Bucking- 

^  Great  Villiers  lies  —  ]  This  Lord,  yet  ham.  P. 
more  famous  for  his  vices  than  his  misfortunes,  "^  Shrewsbury]^  The  Countess  of  Shrews- 
after  having  been  possess'd  of  about  ;^5o,ooo  a  bury,  a  woman  abandoned  to  gallantries.  The 
year,  and  passed  thro'  many  of  the  highest  posts  Earl  her  husband  was  kill'd  by  the  Duke  of 
in  the  kingdom,  died  in  the  Year  1687,  in  a  re-  Buckingham  in  a  duel;  and  it  has  been  said, 
mote  inn  in  Yorkshire,  reduced  to  the  utmost  that  during  the  combat  she  held  the  Duke's 
misery.     P.  horses  in  the  habit  of  a  page,     P, 


26o  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

His  Grace's  fate  sage  Cutler^  could  foresee,  315 

And  well  (he  thought)  advisM  him,  "  Live  like  me." 
As  well  his  Grace  reply'd,  ^^  Like  you,  Sir  John? 
^^That  I  can  do,  when  all  I  have  is  gone." 
Resolve  me.  Reason,  which  of  these  is  worse, 
Want  with  a  full,  or  with  an  empty  purse  ?  320 

Thy  life  more  wretched.  Cutler,  was  confessed, 
Arise,  and  tell  me,  was  thy  death  more  bless'd? 
Cutler  saw  tenants  break,  and  houses  fall, 
For  very  want ;  he  could  not  build  a  wall. 

His  only  daughter  in  a  stranger's  pow'r,  325 

For  very  want ;  he  could  not  pay  a  dow'r. 
A  few-  grey  hairs  his  revVend  temples  crown'd, 
'T  was  very  want  that  sold  them  for  two  pound. 
What  ev'n  deny'd  a  cordial  at  his  end, 

Banish'd  the  doctor,  and  expelPd  the  friend?  330 

What  but  a  want,  which  you  perhaps  think  mad, 
Yet  numbers  feel  the  want  of  what  he  had  ! 
Cutler  and  Brutus,  dying  both  exclaim, 
"  Virtue !  and  Wealth !  what  are  ye  but  a  name ! "  * 

Say,  for  such  worth  are  other  worlds  prepared  ?  335 

Or  are  they  both,  in  this  their  own  reward  ? 
A  knotty  point!  to  which  we  now  proceed. 
But  you  are  tir'd  —  I  '11  tell  a  tale  —     B.     Agreed. 

P.   Where  London's  column,^  pointing  at  the  skies, 
Like  a  tall  bully,  lifts  the  head,  and  lies ;  340 

There  dwelt  a  Citizen  of  sober  fame, 
A  plain  good  man,  and  Balaam  was  his  name ; 
Religious,  punctual,  frugal,  and  so  forth ; 
His  word  would  pass  for  more  than  he  was  worth. 
One  solid  dish  his  week-day  meal  affords,  345 

An  added  pudding  solemniz'd  the  Lord's  : 
Constant  at  Church,  and  Change ;  his  gains  were  sure, 
His  givings  rare,  save  farthings  to  the  poor. 

The  Dev'l  was  piqu'd  such  saintship  to  behold, 
And  long'd  to  tempt  him  like  good  Job  of  old  :  350 

But  Satan  now  is  wiser  than  of  yore. 
And  tempts  by  making  rich,  not  making  poor. 

Rous'd  by  the  Prince  of  Air,  the  whirlwinds  sweep 
The  surge,  and  plunge  his  Father  in  the  deep ; 
Then  full  against  his  Cornish  *  lands  they  roar,  355 

1  [Sir  John  Cutler,  a  wealthy  citizen  of  the  *  Cornish'\  The  author  has  placed  the  scene 
Restoration  period,  accused  of  rapacity  on  ac-  of  these  shipwrecks  in  Cornwall,  not  only  from 
count  of  a  large  claim  made  by  his  executors  their  frequency  on  that  coast,  but  from  the  in- 
against  the  College  of  Physicians  which  he  had  humanity  of  the  inhabitants  to  those  to  whom 
aided  by  a  loan.     Carruthers.\  that  misfortune  arrives.     When  a  ship  happens 

2  [Wakefield  refers  to  the  account  of  Brutus*  to  be  stranded  there,  they  have  been  known  to 
death.     Dion  Cassius  (xlvii.  49).]  bore  holes  in  it,  to   prevent  its  getting  off;    to 

3  Where  London  s  column, \  The  Monument,  plunder,  and  sometimes  even  to  massacre  the 
on  Fish  Street  Hill,  built  in  memory  of  the  fire  of  People:  nor  has  the  Parliament  of  England 
London,  of  1666,  with  an  inscription,  importing  been  yet  able  wholly  to  suppress  these  barbar* 
that  city  to  have  been  burnt  by  the  Papists.     P.  ities.    P. 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  261 

And  two  rich  ship-wrecks  bless  the  lucky  shore. 

Sir  Balaam  now,  he  lives  like  other  folks, 
He  takes  his  chirping  pint,  and  cracks  his  jokes : 
"  Live  like  yourself,"  was  soon  my  Lady's  word ; 
And  lo!  two  puddings  smok'd  upon  the  board.  360 

Asleep  and  naked  as  an  Indian  lay, 
An  honest  factor  stole  a  Gem  away  -?■ 
He  pledged  it  to  the  knight ;  the  knight  had  wit, 
So  kept  the  Diamond,  and  the  rogue  was  bit. 
Some  scruple  rose,  but  thus  he  eas'd  his  thought,  365 

"  I  '11  now  give  six-pence  where  I  gave  a  groat ; 
^' Where  once  I  went  to  Church,  I  '11  now  go  twice — 
"And  am  so  clear  too  of  all  other  vice." 

The  Tempter  saw  his  time ;  the  work  he  ply'd ; 
Stocks  and  Subscriptions  pour  on  ev'ry  side,  370 

"Till  all  the  Demon  makes  his  full  descent 
In  one  abundant  show'r  of  Cent  per  Cent, 
Sinks  deep  within  him,  and  possesses  whole, 
Then  dubs  Director,  and  secures  his  soul. 

Behold  Sir  Balaam,  now  a  man  of  spirit,  375 

Ascribes  his  gettings  to  his  parts  and  merit ; 
What  late  he  call'd  a  Blessing,  now  was  Wit, 
And  God's  good  Providence,  a  lucky  Hit. 
Things  change  their  titles,  as  our  manners  turn : 
His  Counting-house  employ'd  the  Sunday-morn ;  380 

Seldom  at  Church  ('t  was  such  a  busy  life) 
But  duly  sent  his  family  and  wife. 
There  (so  the  Dev'l  ordain'd)  one  Christmas-tide 
My  good  old  Lady  catch'd  a  cold,  and  died. 
A  Nymph  of  Quality  admires  our  Knight ;  385 

He  marries,  bows  at  Court,  and  grows  polite : 
Leaves  the  dull  Cits,  and  joins  (to  please  the  fair) 
The  well-bred  cuckolds  in  St.  James's  air  : 
First,  for  his  Son  a  gay  commission  buys. 

Who  drinks,  whores,  fights,  and  in  a  duel  dies :  390 

His  daughter  flaunts  a  Viscount's  tawdry  wife ; 
She  bears  a  Coronet  and  P — x  for  life. 
In  Britain's  Senate  he  a  seat  obtains, 
And  one  more  Pensioner  St.  Stephen  gains.^ 
My  Lady  falls  to  play  ;  so  bad  her  chance,  395 

He  must  repair  it ;  takes  a  bribe  from  France  ; 
The  House  impeach  him  ;  Coningsby  harangues  ;  • 
The  Court  forsake  him,  and  Sir  Balaam  hangs  : 
Wife,  son,  and  daughter,  Satan!  are  thy  own, 

1  Pope  was  supposed  to  allude  here  to  the  jewel    in    Europe,    and    weighed    127    carats. 

Pitt   diamond,  a    gem  brought  to  England  by  Carruthers.                                               {^gaitis.^ 

Thomas  Pitt,  Governor  of  Madras,  about  1700.  ^  And  one  more    Pensioner   St.    Stephen 

Mr.    Pitt  purchased   this   celebrated  diamond,  — atque  unum  civem  donare  ^/"^y/Zf^. 

which  goes  by  his  name,  for  ;^2o,4oo,  and  sold  Juv.  [iii.  3.]      Warburton. 

it  to  the  King  of  France  for  more  than  five  times  ^  [The  impeachment  of  Oxford  in  1715  was 

that  sum.      It  was  then  reckoned  the  largest  moved  by  Lord  Coningsby.] 


262  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

His  wealth,  yet  dearer,  forfeit  to  the  Crown :  400 

The  Devil  and  the  King  divide  the  prize, 
And  sad  Sir  Balaam  curses  God  and  dies. 


EPISTLE  IV.  \  7  3  ' 

To  Richard  Boyle,  Earl  of  Burlington.* 

ARGUMENT. 
Of  the  Use  of  Riches. 

The  Vanity  of  Expence  in  People  of  Wealth  and  Quality,  The  abuse  of  the  word 
Taste,  V.  13.  That  the  first  principle  and  foufidation,  in  this  as  in  every  thing  else,  is 
Good  Sense,  v.  40.  The  chief  proof  of  it  is  to  follow  Nature  even  in  works  of  mere  Lux- 
ury and  Elegance.  Instanced  in  Architecture  and  Gardening,  where  all  must  be  adapted 
to  the  Genius  and  Use  of  the  Place,  and  the  Beauties  not  forced  into  it,  but  resulting  from 
it,  V.  50.  How  men  are  disappointed  in  their  jnost  expensive  undertakings,  for  want  of 
this  true  Foundation,  without  which  nothing  can  please  long,  //at  all ;  and  the  best  Exam- 
ples and  Rules  will  but  be  perverted  into  j-^/;z<?/^?>7^  burdensome  or  ridiculous,  v.  65,  &c. 
to  92.  A  description  of  the  false  Taste  ^/Magnificence  ;  the  first  grand  Error  of  which 
is  to  imagine  that  Greatness  consists  in  the  Size  and  Dimension,  instead  of  the  Propor- 
tion and  Harmony  of  the  whole,  v.  97,  and  the  second,  either  in  joining  together  Parts 
incoherent,  or  too  minutely  resembling,  or  in  the  Repetition  of  the  same  too  fequefitly, 
V.  105,  &c.  A  word  or  two  of  false  Taste  in  Books,  in  Music,  in  Painting,  even  in 
Preaching  and  Prayer,  and  lastly  in  Entertainments,  v.  133,  &c.  Yet  Providence  is 
justified  in  giving  Wealth  to  be  squandered  in  this  manner,  since  it  is  dispersed  to  the 
Poor  and  Laborious  part  of  mankmd,  v.  169  [recurring  to  what  is  laid  down  in  the  first 
book,  Ep.  ii.  and  in  the  Epistle  preceding  this,  v.  159,  &c.].  What  are  the  proper  Objects 
of  Magnificence,  and  a  proper  field  for  the  Expence  ^/Great  Men,  v.  177,  &c.,  and  finally, 
the  Great  and  Public  Works  which  become  a  Prince,  v.  191,  to  the  end. 

"np  IS  strange,  the  Miser  should  his  Cares  employ 

X     To  gain  those  Riches  he  can  ne'er  enjoy  : 
Is  it  less  strange,  the  Prodigal  should  waste 
His  wealth,  to  purchase  what  he  ne'er  can  taste? 
Not  for  himself  he  sees,  or  hears,  or  eats  ;  5 

Artists  must  choose  his  Pictures,  Music,  Meats : 
He  buys  for  Topham,^  Drawings  and  Designs, 
For  Pembroke,^  Statues,  dirty  Gods,  and  Coins ; 
Rare  monkish  Manuscripts  for  Hearne  ^  alone, 

1  [Richard  Boyle  third  Earl  of  Burlington  The  designs  of  many  notable  buildings  were 

born  in  1695  died  in  1753.     He  took  no  promi-  made  by   Lord   Burlington;    among   these  the 

nent  part  in  politics,  although  his  high  rank  ob-  Colonnade  of  Burlington-house  (the  house  itself 

tained  for  him  a  great  post  at  court  and  the  order  was  built  by  his  father) .] 

of  the  Garter.     But  he  obtained  wide  fame  by  ^  A.  Gentleman  famous  for  a  judicious  coUec- 

his  taste  in  architecture,  inspired  by  a  natural  tion  of  Drawings.     P. 

love   of  art  and  educated  by  studies   in   Italy.  ^  [Henry  Earl  of  Pembroke,  under  whom  the 

Horace  Walpole  says  of  him  that  he  *  had  every  ancient  family  seat  of  Wilton,  already  adorned 

quality  of  genius  and  artist,  except  envy.'    It  by  the  art  of  Holbein,  Inigo  Jones  and  Vandyke, 

has  been  doubted  whether  the  architect  Kent,  received  its  last  touches  of  beauty.     See  War- 

who  long  lived  with  him,  did  not  owe  more  to  ton's  Note.] 

his  patron,  than  the  latter  owed  to  the  artist.  ^  [Xhomas  Hearne,  the  well-known  antiquary; 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


263 


And  Books  for  Mead,  and  Butterflies  for  Sloane.^ 
Think  we  all  these  are  for  himself  ?  no  more 
Than  his  fine  Wife,  alas!  or  finer  Whore. 

For  what  has  Virro  painted,  built,  and  planted  ? 
Only  to  show,  how  many  Tastes  he  wanted. 
What  brought  Sir  Visto's  ill  got  wealth  to  waste? 
Some  Daemon  whisperM,  "  Visto!  have  a  Taste." 
Heav'n  visits  with  a  Taste  the  wealthy  fool, 
And  needs  no  Rod  but  Ripley  '-^  with  a  Rule. 
See !  sportive  fate,  to  punish  awkward  pride, 
Bids  Bubo  ^  build,  and  sends  him  such  a  Guide : 
A  standing  sermon,  at  each  year's  expense. 
That  never  Coxcomb  reached  Magnificence!* 

You  show  us,  Rome  was  glorious,  not  profuse,* 
And  pompous  buildings  once  were  things  of  Use. 
Yet  shall,  my  Lprd,  your  just,  your  noble  rules  - 
Fill  half  the  land  with  Imitating-Fools  ;  ^^Jjjtl/tx 
Who  random  drawings  from  youi  sheets  sKalltaki 
And  of  one  beauty  many  blunders  make  ; 
Load  some  vain  Church  with  old  Theatric  state,. 
Turn  Arcs  of  triumph  to  a  Garden-gate  ; 
Reverse  your  Ornaments,  and  hang  them  all 
On  some  patch'd  dog-hole  ek'd  with  ends  of  wal! 
Then  clap  four  slices  of  Pilaster  on  't. 
That,  lac'd  with  bits  of  rustic,  makes  a  Front. 
Shall  call  the  winds  thro'  long  arcades  to  roar, 
Proud  toseateh  cold  at"ar^^eiieLi4njte>r;^^ 
'  Conscious-ihe^L-act-a^trye-^illadiari  part.     ^'''-'^ 

who  revenged  himself  for  the  sarcastic  reference         2  Ripley^     This  man  was 


10 


15 


20 


M 


ion 


wno  revengea  nimseii  lor  tne  sarcastic  reierence         "  Kipiey\     mis  man  was  a  carpenter,  em-        n 
to  him  in  the  Dunciad  by  ill-natured  reflexions    ployed  by  a  first  Minister,  who  raised  him  to  "Lr/ 


on  Pope's  parentage  and  education  in  his  Diary. 
See  Ctirruthers's  Life  of  Pope,  p.  14,  note.] 

^  And  Books  for  Mead,  attd  Butterflies  for 
Sloane.'l  Two  eminent  Physicians;  the  one  had 
an  excellent  Library,  the  other  the  finest  collec- 
tion in  Europe  of  natural  curiosities;  both  men 
of  great  learning  and  humanity.  P.  [Dr.  Mead, 
physician  to  George  II.  and  the  most  noted 
practitioner  of  his  day,  was  born  in  1675  and 
died  in  1754,  bequeathing  the  greater  part  of  his 
famous  Library  to  the  College  of  Physicians. 
He  was,  however,  the  reverse  of  a  bookworm; 
for  Johnson  says  of  him  (Boswell  «^«««.  1778) 
that  *  he  lived  more  in  the  broad  sunshine  of 
life  than  almost  any  man.'  Sir  John  or  Hans 
Sloane  {b.  1660),  the  well-known  botanist  and 
physician,  in  his  will  offered  his  collections  to 
the  nation  at  a  sum  one  quarter  of  their  estimated 
value.  His  Natural  History  cabinet  now  forms 
part  of  the  national  collections  in  the  British 
Museum;  his  pictures  &c.  are  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields.] 


an  Architect,  without  any  genius  in  the  art, 
after  some  wretched  proofs  of  his  insuj 
in  public  Buildings,  made  him  Comptroller  of 
the  Board  of  works.  P.  Mr.  [Horace]  Walpole 
speaks  more  favourably  of  this  architect.  War- 
ton.  [He  was  a  protege  of  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole's,  and  built  his  house  at  Houghton.] 

s  [BubbDoddington.  ^cc  Epistle  to  A  rbuth- 
not,  ver.  280.] 

4  After  V.  22,  in  the  MS. 
*  Must  Bishops,  Lawyers,  Statesmen,  have  the 

skill 
To  build,  to  plant,  judge  paintings,  what  you 

will? 
Then  why  not  Kent  as  well  our  treaties  draw, 
Bridgman  explain  the  Gospel,  Gibbs  the  Law? 

^  The  Earl  of  Burlington  was  then  publishing 
the  Designs  ot  JuTigo  J  ones,  and  the  Antiquities 
of  Rome  by  Palladio.     P. 

6  A  door  or  window  so  called,  from  being 
much  practised  at  Venice,  by  Palladio  and 
other?.    P, 


264  MORAL  ESSAYS. 


C 


^ 


And,  if  they  starve,  they  starve  by  rules  of  art. 

Oft  have  you  hinted  to  your  brother  Peer 
A  certain  truth,  which  many  buy  too  dear :  40 

Something  there  is  more  needful  than  Expense, 
And  something  previous  ev'n  to  Taste -^"^Tis^S^eflse : 
G o^  Sense^_whjch  o nly  is-tiie-g4ft-of-Heav,^D. 
And_tho'  no  Sciencej^fairly^warth  the  seven  :  ^ 
•AllIgh£IMii£Jiln^yourself  you  musf  perceive ;  45 

Jones  -^  and  Le  NJtre^  have  it  not  to  give. 

To  build,  to  plant,  v^hatever  you  intend, 
To  rear  the  Column,  or  the  Arch  to  bend, 
To  swell  the  Terrace,  or  to  sink  the  Grot ; 

Jn  allj  let  Nafnrf^  npvpr  hp  fnr^nf  ^q 

But  treats  the  Goddes^ijce  a  modest  fair, 

Nor  over-dress,  nor  leaveTier  whoITy^bare; 

Let  not  each  beauty  ev'rywhere  be  spy'd, 

Where  half  the  skill  is  decently  to  hide. 

He  gains  all  points,  who  pleasingly  confounds,  55 

Surprises,  varies,  and  conceals  the  Bounds. 

Consult  the  Genius  of  the  Place  in  all ; 
That  tells  the  Waters  or  to  rise,  or  fall ; 
Or  helps  th'  ambitious  Hill  the  heavens  to  scale, 
Or  scoops  in  circling  theatres  the  Vale ;  60 

Calls  in  the  Country,  catches  opening  glades. 
Joins  willing  woods,  and  varies  shades  from  shades ; 
Now  breaks,  or  now  directs,  th'  intending  Lines ; 
Paints  as  you  plant,  and,  as  you  work,  designs. 

Still  follow^Sense,  of  ev'ry  Art  the  Soul,  65 

Parts  answ'ring  parts  shall  slide  into  a  whole, 
Spontaneous  beauties  all  around  advance. 
Start  ev'n  from  Difficulty,  strike  from  Chance ; 
Nature  shall  join  you  ;  Time  shall  make  it  grow 
A  Work  to  wonder  at — perhaps  a  Stowe.^  70 

Without  it,  proud  Versailles !  thy  glory  falls ; 
And  Nero's  Terraces  desert  their  walls  :  ^ 
The  vast  Parterres  a  thousand  hands  shall  make, 
Lo!     CoBHAM  comes,  and  floats  them  with  a  Lake : 

1  [The  seven  sciences  of  the  scholastic  trz-  Anglais,'  which  he  exemplified  at  all  the  royal 
vtum  and  guadriviunt.'\  residences,  and  especially  at  Versailles.] 

2  [Inigo  Jones  the  architect  of  the  Banqueting  *  The  seat  and  gardens  of  the  Lord  Viscount 
House  of  Whitehall,  the '  English  Palladio,'  died  Cobham  in  Buckinghamshire.     P. 

in  1653.     He  had  originally  risen  into  fame  by  ^  [i.e.  are  utterly  subverted.     Warton   truly 

designing  Rosenborg,  the  Luxembourg  of  Copen-  remarks  that  every  instance  of  false  taste  and 

hagen,  for  Christian  IV.,  the  brother-in-law  of  false  magnificence  is  to  be  found  at  Versailles  — 

James  I.]  and,  it  may  be  added,  in  the  hundred  copies  of 

3  Inigo  Jones,  the  celebrated  Architect,  and  Versailles  in  Germany.  OfNero's  Golden  House, 
M.  le  Notre,  the  designer  of  the  best  gardens  probably  the  most  colossal  effort  architecture  and 
of  France.  P.  [Andr^  Le  Notre,  the  favourite  landscape  gardening  ever  made,  a  good  short 
landscape-gardener  of  Louis  XIV.,  was  born  in  account  will  be  found  in  Dyer's  History  of  the 
1613,  and  died  in  1700.    It  was  he  who  introduced  City  of  Rome  ^  Sect,  iv.l 

into  France  the  taste  for  the  so-called  *  jardins 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 


267 


Or  cut  wide  views  thro'  Mountains  to  the  Plain, 

Ev'n  in  an  ornament  its  place  remark,  ""^i 

Nor  in  an  Hermitage  set  Dr.  Clarke.^ ^      ]\^  '^^ 

Behold  Villario's  ten  years'  toil  complete j'T. ^/w/v^ 

Jiis  Quincunx  darkens,  his  Ecpaliai's  meet  y^^^^^  '•-yfy^y'Tp^ 

The  Wood  supports  the  Plain,  the  parts  unite,  A/i/J^  ^  ^ .    - 

And  strength  of  Shade  contends  with  strength  of  Light ;  /3U  /fy^if^ 
'^  waving  Glow  the  bloomy  beds  display,  A^  /Am^ 

flushing  in  bright  diversities  of  day,  ^  1/ L^^l/a  J/v 

'With  silver-quiv'ring  rills  maeander'd  o'er  — 
,.'^njoy  them,  you!     Villario  can  no  more; 
•Tir'd  of  the  scene  Parterres  and  Fountains  yield, 
^e  finds  at  last  he  better  likes  a  Field. 

'   Thro'  his  young  Woods  how  pleas'd  Sabinus  strayM, 

Or  sat  delighted  in  the  thick'ning  shade,  90 

With  annual  joy  the  redd'ning  shoots  to  greet. 

Or  see  the  stretching  branches  long  to  meet! 

His  Son's  fine  Taste  an  op'ner  Vista  loves, 

Foe  to  the  Dryads  of  his  Father's  groves  ; 

One  boundless  Green,  or  flourish 'd  Carpet  views,'  95 

With  all  the  mournful  family  of  Yews  ;  ^ 

The  thriving  plants  ignoble  broomsticks  made, 

Now  sweep  those  Alleys  they  were  born  to  shade. 
At  Timon's  Villa  ^  let  us  pass  a  day. 

Where  all  cry  out,  "What  sums  are  thrown  away!"  100 

So  proud,  so  grand  ;  of  that  stupendous  air, 

Soft  and  Agreeable  come  never  there. 

Greatness,  with  Timon,  dwells  in  such  a  draught 

As  brings  all  Brobdignag  ^  before  your  thought. 

To  compass  this,  his  building  is  a  Town,  105 

*  Or  cut  wide  views  thro*  Mountains  to  the  the  greatness  and  nobleness  of  the  piece  is  les- 

Plain,  You  ^11  wish  your  hill  or  shelter  d  seat  sened  by  being  divided  into  too  many  parts,  with 

again.'\      This  was  done  in  Hertfordshire,  by  a  scroU'd  works  and  beds,  of  which  the  examples 

wealthy  citizen,  ^t  the  expense  of  above  ;^5ooo,  are  frequent.    P. 

by  which   means    (merely  to  overlook   a  dead         *  —  fnournful family  of  Yews;'\     Touches 

plain)  he  let  in  the  north-wind  upon  his  house  upon  the  ill  taste  of  those  who  are  so  fond  of 

and  parterre,   which  were  before  adorned  and  Evergreens  (particularly  Yews,  which  are  the 

defended  by  beautiful  woods.     P.  most  tonsile)  as   to  destroy  the  nobler  Forest- 

2  — set  Dr.  Clarke?^     Dr.  S.  Clarke's  busto  trees,  to  make  way  for  such  little  ornaments  as 

placed  by  the  Queen   in  the  Hermitage,  while  Pyramids   of  dark-green   continually  repeated, 

the   Dr.  duly  frequented  the  Court.     P.     [Dr.  not  unlike  a  Funeral  procession.     P. 
Clarke,  one  of  Queen  Caroline's  chaplains,  and  ^  At  Timon's  Villa]     This  description  is  in- 

the   author    of    Evidences    of  Religion,    and  tended   to   comprize   the   principles   of  a  false 

Prayers  and  Meditations,  was  charged  with  Taste  of  Magnificence,  and  to  iexemplify  what 

Arian  opinions.   '5&&'^os,wfQ.\ys  Life  of  Johnson,  was   said  before,  that  nothing  but  Good  Sense 

On  Pope's  visit  to  Oxford  in  1716,  Dr.  Clarke  can  attain  it.     P.     [As  to  the  allusion  in  these 

in  vain  endeavoured  to  engage  him  in  contro-  lines  to  Canons,  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Chan- 

versy  on  theological  subjects.]  dos,  see  Note  on  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  i.  v.  54.] 
*^  The  two  extremes  in  parterres,  which   are         6 — all  Brobdignag]     A  region  of  giants,  in 

^jli^ually  faulty;    a  bou7idless  Green,  large  and  the  satires  of  6^«//zWr.     Warburton. 
naked  as  a  field,  or  ^flourished  Carpet,  where 


264 


MORAL  ESSAYS. 

His  pond  an  Ocean,  his  parterre  a  Down : 

Who  but  must  laugh,  the  Master  when  he  sees, 

A  puny  insect,  shiv'ring  at  a  breeze! 
I  Lo,  what  huge  heaps  of  littleness  around!  ^ 

The  whole,  a  laboured  Quarry  above  ground  ;  1 10 

Two  Cupids  squirt  before ;  a  Lake  behind 

Improves  the  keenness  of  the  Northern  wind. 

His  Gardens  next  your  admiration  call, 

On  evVy  side  you  look,  behold  the  Wall! 

No  pleasing  Intricacies  intervene,  II5 

No  artful  wildness  to  perplex  the  scene ; 
i  Grove  nods  at  grove,  each  Alley  has  a  brother, 
f  And  half  the  platform  just  reflects  the  other. 
^  The  suif 'ring  eye  inverted  Nature  sees. 

Trees  cut  to  Statues,  Statues  thick  as  trees ;  120 

(With  here  a  Fountain,  never  to  be  play'd ; 
And  there  a  Summer-house,  that  knows  no  shade ; 
Here  Amphitrite  sails  thro'  myrtle  bow'rs ; 
There  Gladiators  '^  fight,  or  die  in  flow'rs  ; 
Un-watered  see  the  drooping  sea-horse  mourn,  125 

And  swallows  roost  in  Nilus'  dusty  Urn. 

My  Lord  advances  with  majestic  mien, 
Smit  with  Llie  uiighty^ieasttre^-taJia-seen  : 
But  soft,  —  by  regular  approach, -^-^^ofyet^ — 
First  thro'  the  length  of  yon  hot  Terrace  sweat ;  ^  130 

And  when  up  ten  steep  slopes  you  've  dragg'd  your  thighs, 
Just  at  his  Study-door  he'll  bless  your  eyes. 

His  Study!  with  what  Authors  is  it  stor'd?  ^ 
In  Books,  not  Authors,  curious  is  my  Lord ; 
To  all  their  dated  Backs  he  turns  you  round :  135 

These  Aldus  ^  printed,  those  Du  Sueil  has  bound. 
Lo,  some  are  Vellum,  and  the  rest  as  good 
For  all  his  Lordship  knows,  but  they  are  Wood.^ 
For  Locke  or  Milton  't  is  in  vain  to  look. 
These  shelves  admit  not  any  modern  book.  140 

And  now  the  Chapel's  silver  bell  you  hear. 


1  Lo,  what  huge  heaps  of  littleness  around!']  them,  more  frequent  in  men  of  Fortune  than  the 
Grandeur  in  building,  as  in  the  human  frame,  study  to  understand  them.  Many  delight  chiefly 
takes  not  its  denomination  from  the  body,  but  in  the  elegance  of  the  print,  or  of  the  binding; 
the  soul  of  the  work:  when  the  soul  therefore  is  some  have  carrier  it  so  far,  as  to  cause  the  upper 
lost  or  encumber'd  in  its  invelope,  the  unani-  shelves  to  be  filled  with  painted  books  of  wood; 
mated  parts,  how  huge  soever,  are  not  members  others  pique  themselves  so  much  upon  books  in 
of  grandeur,  but  mere  ^^«/j  ^/zV//^«^j.y.  a  language  they  do  not  understand,  as   to  cx- 

2  The  two  Statues  of  the  Gladiator  pugnans  elude  the  most  useful  in  one  they  do.     P. 

and  Gladiator  moriens.     P.  s  [Aldo  Manutio,  who  established  his  famous 

3  The  Approaches  and  Cofnmunication  of  printing-press  at  Venice  about  1490.] 

house  with  garden,  or  of  one  part  with  another,  "  [i.e.  as  if  they  were  wood.    Warton  com- 

ill  judged,  and  inconvenient.     P.  pares  to  Pope's  disadvantage  Young's  passage 

^  His    Study!    &'c.'\      The   false  Taste  in  on  the  same  subject  in  £/«/z/^rj«/ /'a^xzlt?^,  Sat. 

Books;    a    satire  on   the  vanity   in  collecting  in.] 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  267 

That  summons  you  to  all  the  Pride  of  Pray'r :  ^ 
Light  quirks  of  Music,  broken  and  uneven, 
Make  the  soul  dance  upon  a  Jig  to  Heav'n. 
On  painted  Ceilings  '^  you  devoutly  stare,  145 

Where  sprawl  the  Saints  of  Verrio  or  Laguerre,' 
On  gilded  clouds  in  fair  expansion  lie. 
And  bring  all  Paradise  before  your  eye. 
JTo  rest,  the  Cushion  and  soft  Dean  invite, 
I  Who  never  mentions  Hell  to  ears  polite.'*  150 

But  hark!  the  chiming  Clocks  to  dinner  call; 
A -htmdred  footfttejjs^crape  thej3iarl:de,iJbU: 
The  rich  Buifet  wdTcolour'H'Serpents  grace,^ 
And  gaping  Tritons  spew  to  wash  your  face. 
Is  this  a  dinner?  this  a  Genial  room.?  155 

No,  't  is  a  Temple,  and  a  Hecatomb.^ 
A  solemn  Sacrifice,  perform^  in  state. 
You  drink  by  measure,  and  to  minutes  eat. 
So  quick  retires  each  flying  course,  you  M  swear 
Sancho's  dread  Doctor  and  his  Wand  were  there.''  160 

Between  each  Act  the  trembling  salvers  ring. 
From  soup  to  sweet-wine,  and  God  bless  the  King. 
In  plenty  starving,  tantalizM  in  state. 
And  complaisantly  help'd  to  all  I  hate, 

Treated,  caress'd,  and  tirM,  I  take  my  leave,  1 65 

Sick  of  his  civil  Pride  from  Morn  to  Eve ; 
I  curse  such  lavish  cost,  and  little  skill. 
And  swear  no  Day  was  ever  past  so  ill. 

Yet  hence  the  Poor  are  cloth'd,  the  Hungry  fed ;  ^ 
Health  to  himself,  and  to  his  Infants  bread  170 

The  Laborer  bears :  What  his  hard  Heart  denies, 

1  The  false  Taste  in  Music,  improper  to  the  in  "  a  place  which  he  thought  it  not  decent  to 
subjects,  as  of  light  airs  in  churches,  often  prac-    name  in  so  polite  an  assembly."     P. 

tised  by  the  organists,  &c.     P.  "  Taxes  the  incongruity  of  Ornaments  (tho' 

2  —And  in  Paifttz'ng  (from  which  even  Italy  sometimes  practised  by  the  ancients)  where  an 
is  not  free)  of  naked  figures  in  Churches,  &c.  open  mouth  ejects  the  water  into  a  fountain,  or 
which  has  obliged  some  Popes  to  put  draperies  where  the  shocking  images  of  serpents,  &c.  are 
on  some  of  those  of  the  best  masters.     P.  introduced  in  Grottos  or  Buffets.     P. 

3  Verrio  or  Lagtierre.']  Verrio  (Antonio)  ^  Is  this  a  dinner,  &'c.'\  The  proud  Festivals 
painted  many  ceilings,  &c.  at  Windsor,  Hamp-  of  some  men  are  here  set  forth  to  ridicule,  where 
ton-court,  &c.  and  Laguerre  at  Blenheim-castle,  pride  destroys  the  ease,  and  formal  regularity 
and  other  places.  P.  [Verrio's  ceilings  at  Wind-  all  the  pleasurable  enjoyment  of  the  entertain- 
sor    are    referred    to    in    Windsor    Forest,   v.  ment.     P. 

305.     The  line  in  the  text  was  said  exactly  to         "^  Sanchd's  dread  Doctor"]    See  Don  Quixote, 

describe  the  ceilings  at  Canons ;  but  Pope  in  a  chap,  xlvii.     P. 

letter  to  Aaron  Hill  (Feb.  3,  1732)  asserts  that         8  y>^  hence  the  Poor,  &r>c.'\     The  Moral  oi 

the    frescoes  tjiere   were  not  by   the    painters  the  whole,  where   Providence   is  justified   in 

mentioned   and   that    the  rest    of   the    descrip-  giving  Wealth  to  those  who  squander  it  in  this 

tion    was   equally  inapplicable.      See  Roscoe's  manner.    A  bad  Taste  employs  more  hands,  and 

Life.]  diffuses  Expence  more  than  a  good  one.    This 

*  Who  never  mentions  Hell  to  ears  polite.]  recurs  to  what  is  laid  down  in  Book  i.  Epist.  11. 

This  is  a  fact;    a  reverend  Dean  preaching  at  v.    230-7,   and   in   the   Epistle   preceding   this. 

Court,  threatened  the  sinner  with  punishment  v.  161,  &c.    P. 


268  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

His  charitable  Vanity  supplies. 

Another  age  shall  see  the  golden  Ear^ 
Embrown  the  Slope,  and  nod  on  the  Parterre, 
Deep  Harvests  bury  all  his  pride  has  plann'd,  175 

And  laughing  Ceres  re-assume  the  land. 

Who  then  shall  grace,  or  who  improve  the  Soil? 
Who  plants  like  Bathurst,  or  who  builds  like  Boyle. 
'T  is  Use  alone  that  sanctifies  Expense, 
And  Splendour  borrows  all  her  rays  from  Sense.  180 

His  Father's  Acres  who  enjoys  in  peace. 
Or  makes  his  Neighbours  glad,  if  he  increase : 
Whose  cheerful  Tenants  bless  their  yearly  toil, 
Yet  to  their  Lord  owe  more  than  to  the  soil ; 
Whose  ample  Lawns  are  not  asham'd  to  feed  185 

The  milky  heifer  and  deserving  steed ; 
Whose  rising  Forests,  not  for  pride  or  show, 
But  future  Buildings,  future  Navies,  grow : 
Let  his  plantations  stretch  from  down  to  down, 
First  shade  a  Country,  and  then  raise  a  Town.  190 

You  too  proceed  !  make  falling  Arts  your  care, 
Erect  new  wonders,  and  the  old  repair ; 
Jones  2  and  Palladio  ^  to  themselves  restore, 
And  be  whatever  Vitruvius  ^  was  before : 

'Till  Kings  call  forth  th'  Ideas  of  your  mind,  195 

(Proud  to  accomplish  what  such  hands  designed,) 
Bid  Harbours  open,^  public  Ways  extend, 
Bid  Temples,  worthier  of  the  God,  ascend  ; 
Bid  the  broad  Arch  the  dang'rous  Flood  contain, 

"^  Another  age,  &'c.'\     Had  the  Poet  lived  Shallhalf  the  new-built  Churches  round  thee 
but  three  Years  longer,  he  had  seen  this  prophecy  fall; 

fulfilled.     Warburton.     [This  note,  as  Warton  others  were  vilely  executed,  thro'  fraudulent  ca- 

points  out,  was  judiciously  generalised  by  War-  bals  between  undertakers,  officers,  &c.     Dagen- 

burton  in  a  later  edition,  to  avoid  the  plain  refer-  ham-breach  had  done  very  great  mischiefs;  many 

ence  to  Canons.]  of   the    Highways    throughout    England   were 

2  [jfones,  V.  ante  line  46.]  hardly  passable;   and  most  of  those  which  were 

2  [Palladio  was  born  at  Vicenza,  where  the  repaired  by  Turnpikes  were  made  jobs  for  pri- 

Basilica  della  Ragione  was  his  first  work.     He  vate  lucre,   and   infamously  executed,  even   to 

ultimately  settled  at  Venice  where  most  of  his  the  entrances  of  London  itself:  The  proposal  of 

masterpieces  were  undertaken.  He  died  in  1580.]  building  a  Bridge  at  Westminster  had  been  peti- 

*  [M.    Vitruvius   PoUio,    celebrated    for    his  tion'd  against  and  rejected;    but  in  two  years 

work  de  Architectural  was  born   about   the  after  the  publication   of  this  poem,  an  Act  for 

year  80  B.C.]  building   a   Bridge   pass'd    thro'    both    houses. 

^'Till  Kings  —  Bid  Harbours  open,  <5r»<r.]  After  many  debates  in  the  committee,  the  exe- 

The  poet  after  having  touched  upon  the  proper  cution  was  left  to  the  carpenter  above-mentioned, 

objects   of  Magnificence   and   Expense,  in   the  who  would  have   made   it   a  wooden   one:    to 

private  works  of  great  men,  comes  to  those  great  which  our  author  alludes  in  these  lines, 

and  public  works  which  become  a  prince.     This  Who  builds  a  Bridge  that  never  drove  a  pile? 

Poem  was  published  in   the  year   1732,  when  Should  Ripley  venture,  all  the  world  would 
some  of  the  new-built  Churches,  by  the  act  of  smile. 

Queen  Anne,  were  ready  to  fall,  being  founded  See  the  notes  on  that  place.     P.    [The  two  lines 

in  boggy  land  (which  is  satirically  alluded  to  quoted  are  from  Epistle  to  Augustus,   1.    186, 

in  our  author's  imitation  of  Horace,   Lib.   ii.  p.  316,  but  Pope  had  no  notes  to  either  passage. 

Sat.  2,  Am.  Ed.] 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  269 

The  Mole  projected  break  the  roaring  Main ;  200 

Back  to  his  bounds  their  subject  Sea  command, 
And  roll  obedient  Rivers  thro'  the  Land : 
These  Honours  Peace  to  happy  Britain  brings, 
These  are  Imperial  Works,  and  worthy  Kings.^ 


EPISTLE  V. 

To  Mr.  Addison. 

Occasioned  by  his  Dialogues  on  MEDALS. 

This  was  originally  written  in  the  year  1715,  when  Mr.  Addison  intended  to  publish 
his  book  of  medals ;  it  was  sometime  before  he  was  secretary  of  State ;  but  not  pub- 
lished till  Mr.  Tickell's  Edition  of  his  works ;  at  which  time  the  verses  on  Mr.  Craggs, 
which  conclude  the  poem,  were  added,  viz.  in  1720.  P.  [The  materials  for  these  Dia- 
logues were  collected  by  Addison  during  his  travels  in  Italy,  and  the  book  itself  was 
begun  to  be  written  at  Vienna  as  early  as  1702.  Though  known  to  and  favourably 
esteemed  by  many  scholars  of  note,  it  was  never  published  in  his  lifetime ;  for  he  died 
in  17 19.     Concerning  Pope's  relations  with  Addison  see  Introductory  Memoir,  p.  xv.  i. 

The  following  is  Warburton's  attempt  to  connect  the  revised  version  of  Pope's  lines 
to  Addison  with  the  series  of  Moral  Essays  : 

'As  the  third  Epistle  treated  of  the  extremes  of  Avarice  and  Profusion;  and  the 
'  fourth  took  up  one  particular  branch  of  the  latter,  namely,  the  vanity  of  expence  in 
•  people  of  wealth  and  quality,  and  was  therefore  a  corollary  to  the  third ;  so  this  treats 
'  of  one  circumstance  of  that  Vanity,  as  it  appears  in  the  common  collectors  of  old 
'  coins ;  and  is,  therefore,  a  corollary  to  the  fourth.'] 


S' 


^EE  the  wild  Waste  of  all-devouring  years! 
How  Rome  her  own  sad  Sepulchre  appears,^ 
With  nodding  arches,  broken  temples  spread! 
The  very  Tombs  now  vanishM  like  their  dead! 
Imperial  wonders  raised  on  Nations  spoiPd,  5 

Where  mixM  with  Slaves  the  groaning  Martyr  toiPd :  * 
Huge  Theatres,  that  now  unpeopled  Woods, 
Now  drained  a  distant  country  of  her  Floods : 
Fanes,  which  admiring  Gods  with  pride  survey, 
Statues  of  Men,  scarce  less  alive  than  they!  lO 

Some  felt  the  silent  stroke  of  mould'ring  age, 
Some  hostile  fury,  some  religious  rage. 
Barbarian  blindness.  Christian  zeal  conspire, 
And  Papal  piety,  and  Gothic  fire. 

Perhaps,  by  its  own  ruins  savM  from  flame,  15 

Some  bury'd  marble  half  preserves  a  name ; 
That  Name  the  learn'd  with  fierce  disputes  pursue. 
And  give  to  Titus  old  Vespasian's  due. 

^  [Carnithers   refers  to  Dryden's  free  trans-  3  [According   to   an   ancient   tradition,   the 

lation  of -^n.  vi.  853-4:  Christians  were  forced  to  labour  at  the  constnic- 

*  These  are  imperial  arts  and  worthy  thine.']       tion  of  the  famous  Baths  of  Diocletian.] 

2  St. Jerome  calls  Rome '  quondam  orbis  caput, 
postea  populi  Romani  sepulcrum.'     IVarton. 


270  MORAL  ESSAYS. 

Ambition  sigh'd  :  She  found  it  vain  to  trust 
The  faithless  Column  and  the  crumbling  Bust :  20 

Huge  moles,  whose  shadow  stretchM  from  shore  to  shore, 
Their  ruins  perishM,  and  their  place  no  more! 
Convince,  she  now  contracts  her  vast  design, 
And  all  her  triumphs  shrink  into  a  Coin. 

A  narrow  orb  each  crowded  conquest  keeps ;  25 

Beneath  her  Palm  here  sad  Judaea  weeps ;  ^ 
Now  scantier  limits  the  proud  Arch  ^  confine, 
And  scarce  are  seen  the  prostrate  Nile  or  Rhine ;  ^ 
A  small  Euphrates  thro'  the  piece  is  rolPd, 
And  little  Eagles  wave  their  wings  in  gold.  30 

The  Medal,  faithful  to  its  charge  of  fame, 
Thro'  climes  and  ages  bears  each  form  and  name : 
In  one  short  view  subjected  to  our  eye 
Gods,  Emp'rors,  Heroes,  Sages,  Beauties,  lie. 
With  sharpen'd  sight  ^  pale  Antiquaries  pore,  35 

Th'  inscription  value,  but  the  rust  adore. 
This  the  blue  varnish,  that  the  green  endears,® 
The  sacred  rust  of  twice  ten  hundred  years! 
To  gain  Pescennius  ^  one  employs  his  schemes, 
One  grasps  a  Cecrops  in  ecstatic '^  dreams.  40 

Poor  Vadius,^  long  with  learned  spleen  devoured. 
Can  taste  no  pleasure  since  his  Shield  was  scour'd ; 
And  Curio,  restless  by  the  Fair-one's  side, 
Sighs  for  an  Otho,  and  neglects  his  bride. ^ 

Theirs  is  the  Vanity,  the  Learning  thine :  45 

Touch'd  by  thy  hand,  again  Rome's  glories  shine ; 
Her  Gods,  and  god-like  Heroes  rise  to  view, 
And  all  her  faded  garlands  bloom  anew. 
Nor  blush,  these  studies  thy  regard  engage ; 
These  pleas'd  the  Fathers  of  poetic  rage ;  50 

The  verse  and  sculpture  bore  an  equal  part. 
And  Art  reflected  images  to  Art. 

Oh  when  shall  Britain,  conscious  of  her  claim,^^ 
Stand  emulous  of  Greek  and  Roman  fame  ? 

1  [*  Judaea  Capta '  on  a  reverse  of  Vespasian.]  '^  [Ecstatic,  because  of  course  no  such  medals 

2 — the  proud  Arch]   i.e.     The   triumphal  exist.] 

Arch,  which  was  generally  an  enormous  mass  of  ^  Poor  Vadzus,']    See  his  history,   and  that 

building.     Warburto7i.  of  his  Shield,  in  the  Memoirs  of  Scriblerus. 

3  [A  small  figure  of  the  conquered  province  Warbtirton.      [Aimed   at   Dr.    Woodward  the 

frequently  occurs  on  medals  struck  on  the  occa-  eminent  physician  and  naturalist,  who  wrote  a 

sion  of  a  triumph.  J  dissertation  on  an  ancient  shield  which  he  pos- 

*  [i.e.  with  the  aid  of  microscopes.]  sessed.     Carruthers.] 

^  This   the  blue  varnish,   that   the  greeti  ^  Charles  Patin  was  banished  from  the  Court 

endears,]  i.e.   This  a  collector  of  silver;  that,  because  he  sold  Louis  XIV.  an  Otho  that  was 

of  brass  coins.      Warburton.  not  genuine.     Warton.     [A  very  remarkable 

6  Pescennius   Niger  assumed   the   purple   in  Otho  is  given  by  Addison.] 

Syria  in  131,  but  was  speedily  worsted  by  Sep-  ^^  Oh  when  shall  Britain,  <5t*c.]  A  compli- 

timius  Severus.]  ment  to  one  of  Mr.  Addison's  papers  in  the 

Spectator  on  this  subject.     Warburton, 


MORAL  ESSAYS.  271 

In  living  medals  see  her  wars  enrolPd,  55 

And  vanquish^  realms  supply  recording  gold? 

Here,  rising  bold,  the  Patriot's  honest  face ; 

There  Warriors  frowning  in  historic  brass? 

Then  future  ages  with  delight  shall  see 

How  Plato's,  Bacon's,  Newton's  looks  agree ;  60 

Or  in  fair  series  laurell'd  Bards  be  shown, 

A  Virgil  there,  and  here  an  Addison.^ 

Then  shall  thy  Craggs  ^  (and  let  me  call  him  mine) 

On  the  cast  ore,  another  PoUio,  shine ; 

With  aspect  open,  shall  erect  his  head,  65 

And  round  the  orb  in  lasting  notes  be  read, 

"  Statesman,  yet  friend  to  Truth  !  of  soul  sincere,^ 

"  In  action  faithful,  and  in  honour  clear; 

"Who  broke  no  promise,  serv'd  no  private  end, 

"  Who  gain'd  no  title,  and  who  lost  no  friend  ;  70 

"  Ennobled  by  himself,  by  all  approv'd, 

"And  prais'd,  unenvy'd,  by  the  Muse  he  lov'd."* 

1  Copied  evidently  from  Tickell  to  Addison  "  the  Author  had  a  Design  of  being  Ciceronian 
on  his  Rosamond:  'Which  gain'd  a  Virgil  and  "  —  but  it  is  not  only  the  tediousness  of  these 
an  Addison.'  Warton.  [Asinius  Pollio,  on  "  inscriptions  that  I  find  fault  with ;  supposing 
the  birth  of  whose  son  Vergil  wrote  the  Eclogue  **  them  of  a  moderate  length,  why  must  they  be 
paraphrased  in  Pope's  Messiah.']  **  in  verse?    We  should  be  surprized  to  see  the 

2  ICr-aggs.     See  note  to  Pope's  Epitaph  iv.]  "  title  of  a  serious  book  in  rhyme."  —  Dial.  iii. 

^  Statesman,  yet  friend  to  truth!  &^c.]     It         ^  And  prais'd,  unenvy'd,  by  the  Muse  he 

should  be  remembered  that  this  poem  was  writ-  lov'd.]     It  was  not  likely  that  men  acting  in  so 

ten  to  be  printed  before  Mr.  Addison's  Discourse  different  spheres  as  were  those  of  Mr.  Craggs 

on  Medals,  in  which  there  is  the  following  cen-  and  Mr.  Pope,  should  have  their  friendship  dis- 

sure  of  long  legends  upon  coins:    "The  first  turbed  by  Envy.    We  must  suppose  then  that 

**  fault  I  find  with  a  modern  legend  is  its  diffu-  some  circumstances  in   the  friendship  of  Mr. 

"  siveness.    You  have  sometimes  the  whole  side  Pope  and  Mr.  Addison  are  hinted  at   in  this 

**  of  a  medal  over- run  with  it.    One  would  fancy  place.     Warburton, 


SATIRES. 

[The  Satires  of  Pope,  which  form  the  fourth  volume  of  Warburton's  edition, 
were  published  very  nearly  in  the  order  in  which  they  stand,  viz.  — 

First  Satire  of  Second  Book  of  Horace 1733 

Second  "  "  "  .        .        .  1734  (written  1 732) 

Epistle  to  Dr.  Arbuthnot  (Prologue  to  Satires)         ...         1 735 

^Donne's  Satires  Versified 1735 

y^  First  Epistle  of  First  Book  of  Horace       .        .        .        • 
^Sixth        «  «  "  .        .        .        . 

V<First         "         Second  «  .... 

N^Second     "  "  "  .        .        .        . 

'^  One  Thousand  Seven  Hundred  and  Thirty-eight 

(Epilogue  to  Satires,  Dialogues  I.  and  II.) 


1737 


1738 


They  originated  in  a  happy  suggestion  of  Bolingbroke's,  made  to  Pope  on 
a  visit  to  the  latter  in  the  winter  of  1732,  at  the  time  when  the  composition  of 
the  Essay  on  Man  was  interrupted  by  a  slight  attack  of  fever  which  confined  the 
poet  to  his  room  for  a  few  days.  Bolingbroke,  happening  to  take  up  a  Horace 
and  to  light  on  the  First  Satire  of  the  Second  Book,  was  struck  by  its  applicability 
to  the  position  of  Pope,  and  recommended  him  to  translate  it  into  English.  This 
Pope  accomplished  in  a  morning  or  two;  and  the  success  of  the  first  attempt  led 
him  to  repeat  the  experiment  until  to  his  surprise  he  found  he  had  reproduced 
more  than  a  third  of  the  Latin  poet's  Satires  and  Epistles  in  an  English  dress. 

Even  the  Imitations  of  Horace  proper  are  something  very  different  from  mere 
free  translations  of  paraphrases;  the  Prologue  and  Epilogue  are  independent 
satires,  the  former  in  the  form  of  an  Epistle,  the  latter  in  that  of  Dialogues;  and 
the  Versified  Satires  of  Dr.  Donne,  written  by  Pope  (as  he  informs  us)  several 
years  before  their  publication,  were  merely  retoughed  with  allusions  which  make 
them  to  a  certain  degree  harmonise  with  the  rest  of  the  series.  It  will  therefore 
be  most  convenient  to  prefix  to  the  Prologue,  the  Imitations  and  the  Epilogue 
independently,  such  remarks  as  are  suggested  by  the  characters  of  each;  and  to 
distinguish  from  all  these  the  paraphrase  of  Donne's  Satires.  The  common 
characteristics  of  the  entire  group  need  little  demonstration.  In  versification 
and  diction  generally,  these  Satires  are  Pope's  master-pieces.  The  spirit  which 
dictated  them  is  the  same :  a  strong  and  not  unworthy  self-consciousness,  com- 
bined with  a  relentless  desire  to  damage  the  reputation  of  all  to  whom  the  poet 
was  opposed  on  public  or  on  private  grounds.  It  would  be  unjust  to  attribute  to 
personal  spleen  and  personal  animosity  the  whole  of  Pope's  scathing  invective;  a 
zeal  for  public  morality  accompanies  a  genuine  respect  for  individual  merit;  but 
no  private  enemy  of  the  poet's,  no  political  opponent  of  his  friends,  has  a  chance 
T  273 


274  ADVERTISEMENT. 

of  candid  and  fair  treatment.  Even  Sir  Robert  Walpole  is  only  incidentally  rec- 
ognized as  not  wholly  without  virtues,  because  he  had  once  conferred  a  personal 
favour  upon  Pope;  even  Addison's  moral  purity  only  meets  with  recognition 
because  the  quarrel  between  him  and  Pope  was  at  an  end  with  the  death  of  the 
former.  The  endless  egotism  of  Pope,  and  the  standard  by  which  in  the  end  he 
measured  his  opinion  of  others,  accordingly  deprive  him  of  the  right  to  be  esteemed 
a  moralist  in  these  his  most  brilliant  efforts";  and  notwithstanding  his  deprecation 
of  the  term,  he  ca^n  only  be  regarded,  with  reference  to  them,  as  a  wit.] 

EPISTLE  TO   DR.   ARBUTHNOT. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 
To  the  first  publication  of  this  Epistle, 

This  paper  is  a  sort  of  bill  of  complaint,  begun  many  years  since,  and  drawn  up  by 
snatches,  as  the  several  occasions  offered.  I  had  no  thoughts  of  publishing  it,  till  it 
pleased  some  Persons  of  Rank  and  Fortune  (the  Authors  of  Verses  to  the  Imitator  of 
Horace,  and  of  an  Epistle  to  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  a  Nobleman  at  Hampton  Court)^ 
to  attack,  in  a  very  extraordinary  manner,  not  only  my  Writings  (of  which,  being  public, 
the  Public  is  judge)  but  my  Person,  Morals,  and  Family,  whereof,  to  those  who  know 
me  not,  a  truer  information  may  be  requisite.  Being  divided  between  the  necessity  to 
say  something  of  myself,  and  my  own  laziness  to  undertake  so  awkward  a  task,  I  thought 
it  the  shortest  way  to  put  the  last  hand  to  this  Epistle.  If  it  have  any  thing  pleasing,  it 
will  be  that  by  which  I  am  most  desirous  to  please,  the  Truth  and  the  Sentiment;  and 
if  any  thing  offensive,  it  will  be  only  to  those  I  am  least  sorry  to  offend,  the  vicious  or 
the  ungenerous. 

Many  will  know  their  own  pictures  in  it,  there  being  not  a  circumstance  but  what  is 
true ;  but  I  have,  for  the  most  part,  spared  their  Names,  and  they  may  escape  being 
laughed  at,  if  they  please. 

I  would  have  some  of  them  know,  it  was  owing  to  the  request  of  the  learned  and 
candid  Friend  to  whom  it  is  inscribed,  that  I  make  not  as  free  use  of  theirs  as  they  have 
done  of  mine.  However,  I  shall  have  this  advantage,  and  honour,  on  my  side,  that 
whereas,  by  their  proceeding,  any  abuse  may  be  directed  at  any  man,  no  injury  can 
possibly  be  done  by  mine,  since  a  nameless  character  can  never  be  found  out,  but  by 
its  truth  and  likeness.     P. 

[Parts  of  this  poem,  and  notably  the  famous  passage  relating  to  Addison,  had  been 
written  many  years  previously  and  published  as  fragments.  But  there  is  no  trace  of 
disjointedness  in  this,  one  of  the  most  finished  of  Pope's  compositions,  which  may  be 
almost  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  poetical  apology /r^  vitd,,  and  an  attempt  for  ever  to 
silence  the  most  notable  of  the  poet's  detractors.  It  was  appropriately  addressed  to  the 
most  generally  esteemed  member  of  Pope's  circle  of  friends  and  literary  associates  — 
one  who  in  the  last  letter  which  he  wrote  to  Pope  (Arbuthnot  died  about  a  month  after 
the  publication  of  the  Epistle)  expressed  his  belief,  that  since  their  first  acquaintance 
there  had  not  been  '  any  of  those  little  suspicions  or  jealousies  that  often  affect  the  sin- 
cerest  friendships; '  and  his  certainty  that  there  had  been  none  such  on  his  own  side. 
Pope  was  about  this  time  in  need  of  the  support  of  such  approval  as  the  judgment  of  his 
friends  as  well  as  his  own  self-consciousness  could  bestow,  to  support  him  in  the  tem- 
pest which  he  had  raised  not  only  by  his  Dunciad  among  the  small  fry  of  his  literary 
enemies,  but  by  his  first  Imitations  of  Horace  among  former  friends,  such  as  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu  and  Lord  Hervey  (see  note  to  v.  305).  The  Epistle,  singu- 
larly perfect  and  rounded  in  form  is,  notwithstanding  its  fragmentary  origin,  of  the  high- 
est interest  from  an  ethical  as  well  as  a  literary  point  of  view ;  nor  is  it  possible  to 
forbear  from  admiring  its  lofty  conclusion,  where  that  Resignation  is  upheld  to  which 
in  actual  life  it  was  never  given  to  the  poet  to  attain.] 

^  [Of  these  squibs  the  former  was  said  to  be    by  Hervey  alone.  See  Carruthcrs's  Life  of  Pope, 
a  joint  production  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Mont-     cli.  vm.] 
agu  and  Lord  Hervey;    the  latter  was  written 


EPISTLE  TO  DR,   ARBUTHNOT.  "  275 

EPISTLE  TO   DR.   ARBUTHNOT,*       |  1  3^ 

O  5  t?^A'  ^  ^  *'|"  ^  ^  MVi^^BEING  THE 

^  PROLOGUE   TO   THE   SATIRES. 

P.    QHUT,  shut  the  door,  good  John!  2  fatigu'd,  I  said, 

O  Tie  up  the  knocker,  say  I  'm  sick,  I  'm  dead. 
The  Dog-star  rages !  ^  nay  't  is  past  a  doubt, 
All  Bedlam,  or  Parnassus,  is  let  out : 

Fire  in  each  eye,  and  papers  in  each  hand,  5 

They  rave,  recite,  and  madden  round  the  land. 

What  walls  can  guard  me,  or  what  shade  can  hide  ? 
They  pierce  my  thickets,  thro'  my  Grot  they  glide ; 
By  land,  by  water,  they  renew  the  charge ; 
They  stop  the  chariot,  and  they  board  the  barge.  10 

No  place  is  sacred,  not  the  Church  is  free ; 
Ev'n  Sunday  shines  no  Sabbath-day  to  me ; 
Then  from  the  Mint  *  walks  forth  the  Man  of  rhyme, 
Happy  to  catch  me  just  at  Dinner-time. 

Is  there  a  Parson,  much  bemus'd  in  beer,^  15 

A  maudlin  Poetess,  a  rhyming  Peer, 
A  Clerk,  foredoom 'd  his  father's  soul  to  cross, 
Who  pens  a  Stanza,  when  he  should  engross  ? 
j^  Is  there,  who,  lock'd  from  ink  and  paper,  scrawls 

With  desp'jate  charcoal  *  round  his  darken'd  JSvaUs  ?  ^  20 

*  [John  Arbuthnot   (born  in  1675,  died  in  3  [See  Pers.  Sat.  iii.  v.  5.    Several  touches  in 

1735)  besides  being  a  most  distinguished  mem-  the  Epistle  appear  to  be  derived  from  the  same 

ber  of  his  profession,  the  medical,  was  eminent  Satire.] 

as  a  mathematician  and  a  classical  scholar.    As  *  Mint.']     A  place  to  which  insolvent  debtors 

a  politician  he  was  firmly  attached  to  the  Tory  retired,  to  enjoy  an  illegal  protection,  which  they 

party,  and  with  Swift  became  a  member  of  the  were  there  suffered  to  afford  one  another,  from 

October  Club,  established  in  1710  by  Oxford,  the  persecution  of  their  creditors.     Warburton. 

Bolingbroke  and    their    political    and    literary  ^  Some  lines  in  this  Epistle  had  been  used  in 

friends.     He  was  also  a  member  of  the  Scrib-  a  letter  to  Thomson  [the  author  of  the  Seasons] 

Icrus  Club,  and  to  him  is  attributed  the  chief  when  he  was  in  Italy,  and  transferred  from  him 

share  in  the  famous  treatise  of  M.S.  ^«  ^^^  ^r/  to  Arbuthnot,  which  naturally  displeased  the 

0/  Sinking  in  Poetry,  which  was  published  in  former,  though  they  lived  always  on  terms  of 

the  Miscellanies  of  Pope  and  Swift.     The  His-  civility  and  friendship:  and  Pope  earnestly  ex- 

tory  of  John  Bull,  the  Art  of  Political  Lying  erted  himself,  and  used  all  his  interest  to  pro- 

and  oxh^xjeux  d* esprit  of  the  same  kind,  were  mote  the  success  of  Thomson's  Agamemnon. 

Arbuthnot's  own.    On  the  accession  of  George  I.  Warton.      [The   readers   of  the   Seasons  will 

Arbuthnot  was  deprived  of  his  post  as  Physician  remember  the  poet's  tribute  to  the  virtues  of 

extraordinary  at  Court.     Of  Pope's  sentiments  the  'brown  October'  in  Autumn.] 

towards  Arbuthnot  this  Epistle  offers  the  best  ^  The  idea  is  from  Boileau's  Art  of  Poetry 

testimony;  Swift  said  of  him  that '  he  has  more  —  *  charbonner  les  murailles.'     Bowles. 

wit  than  we  all  have;  and  more  humanity  than  ^  After  v.  20  in  the  MS., 

wit.']  *  Is  there  a  Bard  in  durance.''  turn  them  free, 

2  Shut,  shut  the  door,  good  John!]   John  With  all  their  brandish'd  reams  they  run  to  me: 

Searl,  his  old  and  faithful  servant:    whom  he  Is  there  a  Prentice,  having  seen  two  plays, 

has  remembered,  under  that  character,  in  his  Who  would  do  something  in  his  Sempstress' 

Will.     Warburton.  praise/                                    Warburton. 


W&i 


«7i  EPISTLE  TO  DR.  ARBUTHNOT. 

All  fly  to  Twit'nam,^  and  in  humble  strain 
Apply  to  me,  to  keep  them  mad  or  vain. 
Arthur,^  whose  giddy  son  neglects  the  Laws, 
Imputes  to  me  and  my  damnM  works  the  cause: 
Poor  Cornus  sees  his  frantic  wife  elope,  25 

HCfC^  And  curses  Wit,  and  Poetry,  and  Pope. 

Afj'Ti'Ufc.ftr  -        Friend  to  my  Life  I  (which  did  not  you  prolong, 
The  world  had  wanted  many  an  idle  song)^ 
What  Drop  or  Nostrtmi  can  this  plague  remove  ? 
Or  which  must  end  me,  a  FooPs  wrath  or  love  ?  30 

A  dire  dilemma!  either  way  I  'm  sped. 
If  foes,  they  write,  if  friends,  they  read  me  dead. 
Seiz'd  and  tied  down  to  judge,^  how  wretched  I! 
Who  can't  be  silent,  and  who  will  not  lie. 
To  laugh,  were  want  of  goodness  and  of  grace,  35 

And  to  be  grave,  exceeds  all  Pow'r  of  face. 
I  sit  with  sad  civility,  I  read 
With  honest  anguish,  and  an  aching  head ; 
And  drop  at  last,  but  in  unwiUing  ears. 
This  saving  counsel,  "  Keep  your  piece  nine  years."  ^  40 

"  Nine  years ! "  cries  he,  who  high  in  Drury-lane, 
Lull'd  by  soft  Zephyrs  thro'  the  broken  pane, 
v  o  Rhymes  ere  he  wakes,^  and  prints  before  Term  ends, 

\  Oblig'd  by  hunger,  and  request  of  friends  : 

"The  piece,  you  think,  is  incorrect?  why,  take  it,  45 

Pm  all  submission,  what  you  'd  have  it,  make  it." 

Three  things  another's  modest  wishes  bound, 
My  Friendship,  and  a  Prologue,"^  and  ten  pound. 

Pitholeon  sends  to  me  :  "  You  know  his  Grace, 
I  want  a  Patron  ;  ask  him  for  a  Place."  50 

^  Pitholeon  ^  libell'd  me,'  — "  but  here  's  a  letter 
Informs  you,  Sir,  't  was  when  he  knew  no  better. 

*  [As  to  Pope's  Villa  at  Twickenham,  or  to  hear  his  well-penn* d  stanzas.  Warburton. 
*Twitenham'  as  he  preferred  to  write  the  name,  Rather  from  Horace;  vide  his  Druso.  War- 
see  Introductory  Memoir,  p.  xxxiv.]  ton.     [Hor.  Sat.  Bk.  I.  vS".  iii.  v.  86.] 

2  Arthur^  Arthur  Moore,  a  leading  politi-         ^  [Hor.  de  Arte  Poet,  v.  388.] 

cian  of  Queen  Anne's  time,  who  had  raised  him-  *  Rhymes  ere  he  wakes,]     A  pleasant  allu- 

self  by  ability  and  unscrupulousness  to  place  sion  to  those  words  of  Milton, 

and  power.     His  son  James  Moore  (afterwards  Dictates  to  jne  slumV ring,  or  inspires 

James  Moore-Smythe) ,  a  small  placeman  and  Easy  my  unpremeditated  Verse. 

poetaster,  and  an  acquaintance  of  the  Blount  Warburton. 

family,  became  a  noted  object  of  Pope's  scorn.  '  [A  service  commonly  rendered  by  popular 

See   above  all   the  famous   description   of  the  authors  of  that  age  to  their  less  successful  breth- 

*  Phantom  '  in  the  Dunciad,  bk.  11.  vv.  35-50,  ren.     Pope  wrote  a  Prologue  to  a  play  acted  for 

and  cf.  Lines  to  Martha  Blount,  in  Miscella-  the  benefit  of  his  ancient  enemy  Dennis  in  1733. 

neous  Poems.]  See  Miscellaneous  Poems.] 

3  [Compare  the  charming  dedication  of  Thack-  ^Pitholeon]  The  name  taken  from  a  foolish 
eray's  Pendennis.]  Poet  of  Rhodes,  who  pretended  much  to  Greek. 

*  Seized  and  tied  down  to  judged  Alluding  Schol.  in  Horat,  1.  i.  Dr.  Bentley  pretends,  that 
to  the  scene  in  [Wycherley's]  Plain-Dealer,  this  Pitholeon  libelled  Caesar  also.  See  notes  on 
where  Oldfox  gags,  and  ties  down  the  Widow  Hor.  Sat.  10  lib.  i.    P. 


EPISTLE  TO  DR,  ARBUTHNOT.  r^ 

Dare  you  refuse  him  ?  Curll  ^  invites  to  dine, 
He  11  write  2^.  Journal,'^  or  he  '11  turn  Divine." 

Bless  me!  a  packet. —  "'Tis  a  stranger  sues,  55 

A  Virgin  Tragedy,  an  Orphan  Muse."^ 
If  I  dislike  it,  "  Furies,  death  and  rage ! " 
If  I  approve,  '^  Commend  it  to  the  Stage." 
There  (thank  my  stars)  my  whole  Commission  ends, 
The  Play'rs  and  I  are,  luckily,  no  friends,^  60 

Fir'd  that  the  house  reject  him,  "'Sdeath  I  '11  print  it, 

And  shame  the  fools Your  Int'rest,  Sir,  with  Lintot!"^ 

<  Lintot,  dull  rogue  !  will  think  your  price  too  much  : ' 
"  Not,  Sir,  if  you  revise  it,  and  retouch." 

All  my  demurs  but  double  his  Attacks ;  65 

At  last  he  whispers,  "Do  ;  and  we  go  snacks."* 
Glad  of  a  quarrel,  straight  I  clap  the  door, 
Sir,  let  me  see  your  works  and  you  no  more. 
y    'T  is  sung,"^  when  Midas'  Ears  began  to  spring, 
(Midas,  a  sacred  person  and  a  king)  70 

His  very  Minister  who  spy'd  them  first, 
(Some  say  his  Queen)  ^  was  forc'd  to  speak,  or  burst. 
And  is  not  mine,  my  friend,  a  sorer  case. 
When  ev'ry  coxcomb^ perks  them  in  my  face? 
A.    Good  friend,  forbear !  you  deal  in  dang'rous  things.         75 
I  'd  never  name  Queens,  Ministers,  or  Kings ; 
Keep  close  to  Ears,  and  those  let  asses  prick ; 
'T  is  nothing —    P.    Nothing?  if  they  bite  and  kick? 
Out  with  it,  DuNCiAD  !  let  the  secret  pass, 
That  secret  to  each  fool,  that  he  's  an  Ass  :  ^  80 

The  truth  once  told  (and  wherefore  should  we  lie?) 
The  Queen  of  Midas  slept,  and  so  may  I. 
You  think  this  cruel?  take  it  for  a  rule. 
No  creature  smarts  so  little  as  a  fool. 

Let  peals  of  laughter,  Codrus  !  round  thee  break,  85 

V  ^  Thou  unconcern'd  canst  hear  the  mighty  crack : 
^         Pit,  Box,  and  gall'ry  in  convulsions  hurl'd, 
y       Thou  stand'st  unshook  amidst  a  bursting  world. ^^ 

*  [Edmund  Curll  the  bookseller.  —See  Intro-        ^  [Bernard  Lintot,  who  began  to  publish  for 
ductory  Memoir,  p.  xxxii.]  Pope  in  1712.] 

2  Meaning  the  London  Journal;  a  paper  in         ^  [i.e_  gQ  shares.    Snack  or  snap  is  properly 
favour  of  Sir  R.  Walpole's  ministry.     Warton.    a  hastily  snatched  bit  of  food.] 

3  Alludes    to    a  tragedy  called   the   Virgin         '  [Pers.  5"«/.  1.  120.] 

Queen,  by  Mr.  R.  Barford,  published  1729,  who  '  Queen\  The  story  is  told,  by  some,  of  his 

displeased  Pope  by  daring  to  adopt  the  fine  Barber,  but  by  Chaucer  of  his  Queen.     See 

machinery   of  his    Sylphs  in  an   heroi-comical  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale  in  Dryden's  Fables.     P. 

poem  called  the  Assembly.     (1726.)     Warton.  ^  [Some  'false'  editions  of  the  Dunciad  hav- 

*  Ver.  60  in  the  former  Ed.  ing  an  owl  in  their  frontispiece,  like  the  original 

*  Gibber  and  I  are  luckily  no  friends.*  edition,  the  next  true  edition,  to  distinguish  it, 

Warburton.  fixed  in  its  stead  an  ass  laden  with  authors.] 

[Pope's  own  dramatic  effort  Three  Hours  after  '^^  Alluding  to  Horace.     [Od.  in.  3.] 

Marriage  had  been  deservedly  damned  in  1717;  Si  fractus  illabatur  orbis, 

whence  the   origin  of  his  quarrel  with  Colley  Impavidum  ferient  ruinse.     P. 

Gibber.]  ['The  mighty  crack,'  as  Warton  points  out,  is 


278  EPISTLE  TO  DR.  ARBUTHNOT. 


Who  shames  a  Scribbler?  break  one  cobweb  thro', 

He  spins  the  shght,  self-pleasing  thread  anew :  90 

Destroy  his  fib  or  sophistry,  in  vain, 

The  creature  's  at  his  dirty  work  again, 


)      Thron'd  in  the  centre  of  his  thin  designs, 


(  P^s  Proud  of  a  vast  extent  of  flimsy  lines! 

^  Whom  have  I  hurt  ?  has  Poet  yet,  or  Peer,  95 

Lost  the  arch'd  eye-brow,  or  Parnassian  sneer? 
And  has  not  Colley  still  his  Lord,  and  whore? 
His  Butchers^  Henley,  his  free-masons  Moore ?^ 
Does  not  one  table  Bavius  still  admit? 

Still  to  one  Bishop  Philips  seem  a  wit?^  100 

/  Still  Sappho—    A.    Hold!  for  God's  sake  — you  '11  offend, 

y      No  Names!  —  be  calm!  —  learn  prudence  of  a  friend! 
f^^ '        ^  ^00  could  write,  and  I  am  twice  as  tall ; 

^         But  foes  like  these —     P.   One  Flatf  rer 's  worse  than  all. 
^  y      Of  all  mad  creatures,  if  the  learn'd  are  right,  105 

^^ '       It  is  the  slaver  kills,  and  not  the  bite. 
A  fool  quite  angry  is  quite  innocent : 
,  Alas!  'tis  ten  times  worse  when  they  repent. 
One  dedicates  in  high  heroic  prose, 
y  N         And  ridicules  beyond  a  hundred  foes  :  no 

CV<         One  from  all  Grubstreet  will  my  fame  defend, 
■  And  more  abusive,  calls  himself  my  friend. 

This  prints  my  Letters,"^  that  expects  a  bribe. 
And  others  roar  aloud,  "  Subscribe,  subscribe." 

There  are,  who  to  my  person  pay  their  court :  115 

I  cough  like  Horace,  and,  tho'  lean,  am  short, 
'^v/    Armnon's  great  son  one  shoulder  had  too  high, 
Y\       Such  Ovid^s  nose,  and  "  Sir!  you  have  an  Eye"^  — 
Go  on,  obliging  creatures,  make  me  see 

All  that  disgrac'd  my  Betters,  met  in  me.  120 

Say  for  my  comfort,  languishing  in  bed, 
*^  Just  so  immortal  Maro  held  his  head :  " 
And  when  I  die,  be  sure  you  let  me  know 
Great  Homer  died  three  thousand  years  ago.® 

Addison's  phrase  in  his  version  of  the  ode,  rid-         ^  Sir!  you  have  an  Eye]  It  is  remarkable 

iculed  by  Martinus  Scriblerus.]  that  amongst  these  compliments  on  his  infirmi- 

1  [Henley,  see  Dunciad,  iii.   199  and  foil.]  ties  and  deformities,  he  mentions  his  eye,  which 

His  oratory  was  among  the  butchers  in  New-  was  fine,  sharp,  and  piercing.     It  was  done  to 

port  Market  and  Butcher  Row.     Bowles.]  intimate  that  flattery  was  as  odious  to  him  when 

^/ree-7naso7is  Moore  ?]  He  was  of  this  so-  there  was  some  ground  for  commendation   as 

ciety,  and  frequently  headed  thedr  processions.  when  there  was  none.      Warburton. 
Warburton.         ^  After  v.  124  in  the  MS. 

3  Boulter,  afterwards  Primate  of  all  Ireland,  *  But,  Friend,  this  shape,  which  You  and  Curl* 
was  Ambrose  Philips'  great  friend  and  patron.  admire, 

Bowles.     [Ambrose,  or  namby-pamby,  Philips,  Came  not  from  Ammon's   son,  but   from  my 
whose   Pastorals  were  published   in  the  same  Sire;  f 

Miscellany  as  those  of  Pope,  and  with  whom  And  for  my  head,  if  you '11  the  truth  excuse, 

the   latter   quarrelled.     He  became   M.   P.   for  I  had  itfrom  my  Mother,||  not  the  Muse. 

Armagh  through  the  influence  of  his  patron.]  Happy,  if  he,  in  whom  these  frailties  join'd, 

^  [Some  of  Pope's  letters  to  Cromwell  had  Had  heir'd  as  well  the  virtues  of  the  mind.' 
been  surreptitiously  printed  by  Curll  in  1726. J  *  Curl  set  up   his  head  for  a  sign,     f  His 


EPISTLE  TO  DR.   ARBUTHNOT. 


279 


Why  did  I  write?  what  sin  to  me  unknown  ^  125 

Dipt  me  in  ink,  my  parents\  or  my  own?  ijf^<-^^^' 

As  yet  a  child,  nor  yet  a  fool  to  fame,^ 
I  lisp'd  in  numbers,  for  the  numbers  came.^ 
I  left  no  calling  for  this  idle  trade, 

No  duty  broke,  no  father  disobeyM.^  130 

The  Muse  but  serv'd  to  ease  some  friend,  not  Wife, 
To  help  me  thro'  thisj.ong  disease,  my  Life, 
To  second,  Arbuthnot!  thy  Art  and  Care, 
And  teach  the  Being  you  preserved,  to  bear. 

But  why  then  publish?     6^r^;^7;///^  the  polite,*  135 

And  knowing  Walsh,^  would  tell  me  I  could  write ; 
Well-naturM  Garth  ^  inflamM  with  early  praise  ; 
And  Congreve  "^  lov'd,  and  Swift  endur'd  my  lays  ; 
The  courtly  Talbot,^  Soniers^  Sheffield^^^  read ; 
Ev'n  m\\x^^ Rochester  ^^  would  nod  the  head,  140 

And  St.  John'' s  ^^  self  (great  DrydetCs  friends  before) 
With  open  arms  received  one  Poet  more. 
Happy  my  studies,  when  by  these  approv'd! 
Happier  their  author,  when  by  these  belov'd! 
From  these  the  world  will  judge  of  men  and  books,  145 

Not  from  the  Burnets,  Oldfnixons,  and  Cookes.'^^ 

Soft  were  my  numbers  ;  who  could  take  offence, 
While  pure  Description  held  the  place  of  Sense? 


Father  was  crooked.     ||  His  Mother  was  much 
afflicted  with  headaches.     Warburton, 

1  [See  Introductory  Memoir^  p.  xlvi.] 

2  From  Ovid  {Trist.  bk.  iv.  El.  x.  vv.  25-6.] 

War  ton. 

*  No  father  disobey' d.'\  When  Mr.  Pope 
was  yet  a  Child,  his  Father,  though  no  Poet, 
would  set  him  to  make  English  verses.  He  was 
pretty  difficult  to  please,  and  would  often  send 
the  boy  back  to  new  turn  them.     When  they 

.  were   to  his  mind,  he  took  great  pleasure  in 

them,  and  would  say.  These  are  good  rhymes. 

Warburton. 

*  [See  note  to  p.  12.] 

5  [See  note  to  p.  10.] 

6  [See  note  to  p.  14.] 

7  [William  Congreve  (born  1669,  died  1728,) 
the  author  of  the  Mourning  Bride  and  many 
famous  comedies,  was  one  of  those  who  encour- 
aged Pope's  earliest  efforts.] 

8  Talbot,  dye]     All  these  were  Patrons  or 
•  Admirers  of  Mr.  Dryden ;   tho'  a  scandalous 

libel  against  him  entitled,  Dryden's  Satyr  to 
his  Muse,  has  been  printed  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  Somers,  of  which  he  was  wholly  ignorant. 
These  are  the  persons  to  whose  account  the 
author  charges  the  publication  of  his  first  pieces: 
persons  with  whom  he  was  conversant  (and  he 
adds  beloved)  at  16  or  17  years  of  age;  an  early 
period  for  such   acquaintance.     The  catalogue 


might  be  made  yet  more  illustrious,  had  he  not 
confined  it  to  that  time  when  he  writ  the  Pasto- 
rals and  Windsor  Forest,  on  which  he  passes 
a  sort  of  censure  in  the  lines  following. 

While  pure  Description  held  the  place  of 

Sense,  &'c.     P. 
[Talbot.     See   Pope's  note  to   Epilogue  to 
Satires,  Dial.  11.  v.  79.] 

9  [Somers.     See  Pope's  note  ib.  v.  77.] 

10  [Sheffield.  See  note  to  Essay  on  Criticism^ 
v.  724.] 

*i  [Atterbury  bishop  of  Rochester.  See  note 
to  Epitaph  XIII.] 

^2  [See  note  to  p.  192.] 

13  Burnets,  &'c.'\  Authors  of  secret  and 
scandalous  History.     P. 

Burnets,  Oldmixons,  and  Cookes.'\  By  no 
means  Authors  of  the  same  class,  though  the 
violence  of  party  might  hurry  them  into  the  same 
mistakes.  But  if  the  first  offended  this  way,  it 
was  only  through  an  honest  warmth  of  temper, 
that  allowed  too  little  to  an  excellent  understand- 
ing. The  other  two,  with  very  bad  heads,  had 
hearts  still  worse.     P. 

[Gilbert  Burnet  bishop  of  Salisbury,  the  au- 
thor of  the  History  of  My  own  Times  from  the 
Restoration  to  the  Peace  of  Utrecht  Cwhich 
Swift  annotated  in  the  spirit  of  Pope's  reference), 
died  in  1715;  Oldmixon,  see  Dunciad,  11.  vv. 
282,  foil.;  and  Cooke,  see  ib.  11.  138  and  notes.] 


28o  EPISTLE   TO  DR.   ARBUTHNOT 


■t 


iV- 


\Like  gentle  Eanny^s  was  my  flow'ry  theme, 

\A  painted  mistress,  or  a  purling  stream. ^  I50 

Yet  then  did  Gildon  ^  draw  his  veiial  quill ;  — 

I  wishM  the  man  a  dinner,  and  sat  still. 

Yet  then  did  Dennis  ^  rave  in  furious  fret ; 

I  never  answer'd,  —  I  was  not  in  debt. 

If  want  provok'd,  or  madness  made  them  print,  155 

I  wag'd  no  war  with  Bedlam  or  the  Mint.^ 
Did  some  more  sober  Critic  come  abroad ; 

If  wrong,  I  smiPd  ;  if  right,  I  kissM  the  rod. 

Pains,  reading,  study,  are  their  just  pretence, 

And  all  they  want  is  spirit,  taste,  and  sense.  160 

Commas  and  points  they  set  exactly  right, 

And  't  were  a  sin  to  rob  them  of  their  mite. 

Yet  ne'er  one  sprig  of  laurel  gracM  these  ribalds, 
,  From  slashing  Bentley  ^  down  to  pidling  Tibalds :  ^ 
;  Each  wight,  who  reads  not,  and  but  scans  and  spells,  165 

i  Each  Word-catcher,  that  lives  on  syllables, 
^  Ev'n  such  small  Critics  some  regard  may  claim, 

Preserv'd  in  MiltorCs  or  in  Shakespeare'' s  name.'' 

Pretty!  in  amber  to  observe  the  forms 

Of  hairs,  or  straws,  or  dirt,  or  grubs,  or  worms!  ^  170 

The  things,  we  know,  are  neither  rich  nor  rare, 

But  wonder  how  the  devil  they  got  there. 
Were  others  angry  :  I  excusM  them  too  ; 

Well  might  they  rage,  I  gave  them  but  their  due. 

A  man's  true  merit 't  is  not  hard  to  find ;  175 

But  each  man's  secret  standard  in  his  mind, 

That  Casting-weight  pride  adds  to  emptiness, 

This,  who  can  gratify?  for  who  C2in guess  f 

The  Bard  whom  pilfer'd  Pastorals  renown, 

Who  turns  a  Persian  tale  for  half  a  Crown,'  180 

Jy^v  'A       Just  writes  to  make  his  barrenness  appear, 

1  Meaning  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  and  Wind-  least  worthy  effort  of  his  critical  prowess;  as  to 
sor  Forest.  Warburton.  A  painted  meadow  Theobald's  Shakspere,  it  was  an  honest  and  not 
^j^c.  is  a  verse  of  Mr.  Addison.     P.  wholly  unsuccessful  piece  of  work,  and  a  better 

2  [Charles  Gildon,  a  converted  Roman  Cath-  edition  than  Pope's  own.  Bentley's  Milton  is 
olic,  of  whom  Warburton  says  in  a  note  to  Dnn-  better  characterised  in  Imitations  of  Horace, 
ciad,  I.  296,  that '  he  signalised  himself  as  a  critic,  I.  Ep.  of  ii.  Bk.  vv.  103-4.] 

having  written  some  very  bad  plays ;  abused  Pope         ^  [Warburton  has  a  characteristic  note  on  this 

very  scandalously  in  an  anonymous  pamphlet  of  passage,  referring  with  unconscious  irony  to  his 

the  Life  of  Mr.  Wycherly,  and  in  other  pam-  own  edition  of  Shakspere  —  the   edition  which 

phlets.'     See  also  Dunciad,  in.  173]  pointed  the  best  of  Foote's  jests,  when  he  com- 

3  [See  Essay  on  Criticism,  vv.  270, 586  ;  and  pared  a  chimney-sweep  on  a  noble  steed  to '  War- 
Dunciad,  passim.']  burton  on  Shakspere.'] 

*  [Cf.  atite,  v.  13.]  ^  [Ambrose  Philips,  v.  ante  v.  100.     Philips 

5  [Dr.  Richard  Bentley,     See  Dunciad,  iv.  translated   the   Persian  Tales,  as  well  as  two 

201.]  *  Olympioniques'   of  Pindar,  and   other  Greek 

^  [As  to  Theobald,  see  Introduction  to  Dun-  poems.     His   Pastorals  brought  him  '  renown ' 

ciad.']  at  the  hands  of  Gildon,  who  in  his  Art  of  Poetry 

7  Bentley's  edition  of  Paradise  Lost,  which  ranked  him  with  Theocritus  and  Vergil.] 
appeared  in  1732,  was  at  once  the  last  and  the 


EPISTLE  TO  DR,   ARBUTHNOT, 


281 


.^^« 


^ 


\  And  strains,  from  hard-bound  brains,  eight  lines  a  year ; 
He,  who  still  wanting,  tho'  he  lives  on  theft. 
Steals  much,  spends  little,  yet  has  nothing  left :  ^ 
And  He,  who  now  to  sense,  now  nonsense  leaning, 
Means  not,  but  blunders  round  about  a  meaning :  ^ 
And  He,  whose  fustian  ^s  so  sublimely  bad. 
It  is  not  Poetry,  but  prose  run  mad :  ^ 
All  these,  my  modest  Satire  bade  translate,^ 

And  own'd  that  nine  such  Poets  made  a  Tate^ ^^ 

How  did  they  fume,  and  stamp,  and  roar,  and  chafe! 
And  swear,  not  Addison  himself  was  safe. 

Peace  to  all  such !  but  were  there  One  whose  fires  ® 

\    True  Genius  kindles,  and  fair  Fame  inspires  ; 

'1  Blest  with  each  talent  and  each  art  to  please,  - 
f     And  born  to  write,  converse,  and  live  with  ease : 
"     Should  such  a  man,  too  fond  to  rule  alone,"^ 
Bear,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne. 
View  him  with  scornful,  yet  with  jealous  eyes, 
And  hate  for  arts  that  caus'd  himself  to  rise ; 
Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer, 
And  without  sneering,  teach  the  rest  to  sneer;       ^ 
Willing  to  wound,  ana  yet  afraid  to  strike,  ,  ri 

Just  hint  a  fault,  and  hesitate  dislike  ;  .f- 

Alike  reserved  to  blame,  or  to  commend, 
A  tim'rous  foe,  and  a  suspicious  friend ; 
Dreading  ev'n  fools,  by  Flatterers  besieg'd, 
And  so  obliging,  that  he  ne'er  oblig'd ;  ^ 
Like  Cato,  give  his  little  Senate  laws, 
And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause ;  / 

While  Wits  and  Templars  evVy  sentence  raise, 


185 


190 


195 


200 


*  Steals  much,  spends  little ,  yet  has  noth- 
ing left  /]  A  fine  improvement  of  this  line  of 
Boileau, 

Qui  toujours  emprunt,  et  jamais  ne  gagne 
rien.  Warburton. 

^  Means  not,  but  blunders  round  about  a 
m.eaning :\  A  case  common  both  to  Poets  and 
Critics  of  a  certain  order;  only  with  this  differ- 
ence, that  the  Poet  writes  himself  out  of  his  own 
meaning ;  and  the  Critic  never  gets  into  an- 
other man's.  Yet  both  keep  going  on,  and 
blundering  round  about  their  subject,  as  be- 
nighted people  are  wont  to  do,  who  seek  for  an 
entrance  which  they  cannot  find. 
.  3  A  verse  of  Dr.  Evans.      Wilkes. 

^  All  these,  my  modest  Satire  bade  trans- 
late^ See  their  works,  in  the  Translations  of 
classical  books  by  several  hands. 

^  [Nahum  Tate,  compendiously  described  by 
the  late  Prof.  Craik  as  '  the  author  of  the  worst 
alterations  of  Shakspere,  the  worst  version  of 


the  psalms  of  David,  and  the  worst  continuation^  v 
of  a  great  poem  (Absalom  and  A^iitopheljfe^  ex-  \ 
tant.'] 

6  For  an  account  of  Pope's  relations  with  Ad- 
dison see  Introductory  Memoir,  p.  xv.  f.  The 
sentiments  and  imagery  in  Pope's  letter  to 
Craggs  of  July  15th  1715  were  embodied  in  the 
[above]  character  of  Atticus  .  .  .  which  appears 
to  have  been  first  printed  in  1723  (in  a  collection 
of  poems  called  Cytherea  published  by  Curll), 
then  included  by  Pope  in  the  Miscellanies  of 
1727,  and  finally,  after  undergoing  revision,  en- 
grafted into  the  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot,  published 
in  1735.     Carruthers. 

7  This  image  is  originally  Denham's.  John- 
son. 

8  After  V.  208  in  the  MS. 

'  Who,  if  two  Wits  on  rival  themes  contest, 
Approves  of  each,  but  likes  thfe  worst  the  best.* 
Alluding  to  Mr.  P.'s  and  Tickell's  Translation 
of  the  first  Book  of  the  Iliad.     Warburton. 


^J 


282  EPISTLE  TO  DR.    ARBUTHNOT, 

And  wonder  with  a  foolish  face  of  praise  : 

Who  but  must  laugh,  if  such  a  man  there  be? 
Who  would  not  weep,  if  Atticus^  were  he? 

What  tho'  my  Name  stood  rubric  on  the  walls  215 

Or  plaister'd  posts,  with  claps,  in  capitals  ? 
Or  smoking  forth,  a  hundred  hawkers'  load, 
On  wings  of  winds  came  flying  all  abroad  P^ 
I  sought  no  homage  from  the  Race  that  write ; 
I  kept,  like  Asian  Monarchs,  from  their  sight :  220 

Poems  I  heeded  (now  be-rhym'd  so  long) 
No  more  than  thou,  great  George!  a  birth-day  song. 
^  I  ne'er  with  wits  or  witlings  passed  my  days, 

js.J\  To  spread  about  the  itch  of  verse  and  praise  ; 

Nor  like  a  puppy,  daggled  ^  thro'  the  town,  225 

To  fetch  and  carry  sing-song  up  and  down ; 

Nor  at  Rehearsals  sweat,  and  mouth'd,  and  cry'd, 

With  handkerchief  and  orange  at  my  side ; 

But  sick  of  fops,  and  poetry,  and  prate, 

To  Bufo  left  the  whole  Castalian  state.  230 

Proud  as  Apollo  on  his  forked  hill. 
Sat  full-blown  Biifo^  puff  d  by  ev'ry  quill ;  * 
Fed  with  soft  Dedication  all  day  long, 
Horace  and  he  went  hand  in  hand  in  song  .^ 
His  Library  (where  busts  of  Poets  dead  235 

And  a  true  Pindar  stood  without  a  head,)  ^ 
Received  of  wits  an  undistinguished  race, 
Who  first  his  judgment  ask'd,  and  then  a  place : 
X>'^  Much  they  extoll'd  his  pictures,  much  his  seat, 

And  flatter'd  ev'ry  day,  and  some  days  eat :  240 

Till  grown  more  frugal  in  his  riper  days, 

He  paid  some  bards  with  port,  and  some  with  praise ; 

1  [This  famous  couplet  first  stood  thus:  Lord  Halifax,  whom  Warton  understood  to  be 
'Who  would  not  smile  if  such  a  man  there  be  ?  alluded  to.  Lord  H.  had  died  as  far  back  as 
Who  would  not  laugh  if  Addison  were  he?'  1715,  and  is  mentioned  with  respect  (as  he  de- 
Then,  served)  by  Pope  (to  whom  he  had  even  offered 
*  Who  would  not  grieve  if  such  a  man  there  be  ?  a  pension)  in  the  Epilogue  to  the  Satires,  Dial. 
Who  would  not  laugh  if  Addison  were  he?'  11.  v.  77.     Halifax  was  on  terms  of  civility  with 

yohnson.\  Dryden,  although  he  with  Prior  burlesqued  the 

It  was   a  great  falsehood,  which  some  of  the  Hind  and  Panther ;  and  though  he  *  helped  to 

Libels  reported,  that  this  Character  was  written  bury'  the  poet,  he  had  in  no  sense  'helped  to 

after  the  Gentleman's  death;  which  see  refuted  starve'   him.     The  personal  reference   remains 

in  the  Testimonies  prefixed   to   the   Dunciad.  obscure.] 

But  the  occasion  of  writing  it  was  such  as  he  ^  After  v.  234  in  the  MS. 

would   not   make   public  out  of  regard   to   his  *  To  Bards  reciting  he  vouchsaf'd  a  nod, 

memory:    and  all   that  could  further  be  done  And  snuff'd  their  incense  like  a  gracious  god.' 

was  to  omit  the  name,  in   the  Edition  of  his  Warburton. 

Works.     P.  ^  —  a  true  Pindar  stood  without  a  head] 

2  Oft  wings  of  winds  came  flying  all  Ridicules  the  affectation  of  Antiquaries,  who 
abroad?]     Hopkins,  in  the  civth  Psalm.     P.  frequently  exhibit   the   headless    Trutiks    and 

*  [To  daggle  is  to  run  through  the  mire.  Terms  of  Statues,  for  Plato,  Hoirifcr,  Pindar, 
Hence  Swift's  epithet  daggle-taiL]  &c.     Vide  Fulv.  Ursin.  dr^c.    P. 

*  [Roscoe  has  shown  that  this  cannot  refer  to 


EPISTLE  TO  DR.   ARBUTHNOT.  283 

To  some  a  dry  rehearsal  was  assign'd, 
I    And  others  (harder  still)  he  paid  in  kind. 

Dry  den  alone  (what  wonder?)  came  not  nigh,  245 

Dry  den  alone  escapM  this  judging  eye : 
But  still  the  Great  have  kindness  in  reserve, 
He  help'd  to  bury  whom  he  helped  to  starve.^ 

May  some  choice  patron  bless  each  gray  goose  quill! 
May  evVy  Bavins  have  his  Biifo  still !  250 

So,  when  a  Statesman  wants  a  day's  defence, 
Or  Envy  holds  a  whole  week's  war  with  Sense, 
Or  simple  pride  for  flattVy  makes  demands. 
May  dunce  by  dunce  be  whistled  off  my  hands! 
Blest  be  the  Great  I  for  those  they  take  away,  255 

And  those  they  left  me  ;  for  they  left  me  Gay  ;  ^ 
Left  me  to  see  neglected  Genius  bloom, 
Neglected  die,  and  tell  it  on  his  tomb : 
Of  all  thy  blameless  life  the  sole  return 
j^ ,  My  Verse,  and  Queensb'ry  weeping  o'er  thy  urn.  260 

^\;  Oh  let  me  live  my  own,  and  die  so  too! 

k  (To  live  and  die  is  all  I  have  to  do :) 

Maintain  a  Poet's  dignity  and  ease. 
And  see  what  friends,  and  read  what  books  I  please ; 
Above  a  Patron,  tho'  I  condescend  265 

Sometimes  to  call  a  minister  my  friend. 
I  was  not  born  for  Courts  or  great  affairs ; 
fr  I  pay  my  debts^  believe,  and  say  my  pray'rs ; 

\  Can  sleep  without  a  Poem  in  my  head ; 
\J       ',  Nor  know,  if  Dennis  be  alive  or  dead.^  270 

Why  am  I  ask'd  what  next  shall  see  the  light? 
Heav'ns!  was  I  born  for  nothing  but  to  write? 
Has  Life  no  joys  for  me?  or,  (to  be  grave) 
Have  I  no  friend  to  serve,  no  soul  to  save  ? 
"  I  found  him  close  with  Swift " —  '  Indeed?  no  doubt,         275 
(Cries  prating  Balbus)  ^something  will  come  out.' 

1  —  helfd  to  bury\  Mr.  Dryden,  after  hav-  ;^5oo  by  the  first  Beggar's  Opera,  and  ;^iioo 
ing  liv'd  in  exigencies,  had  a  magnificent  Fu-  or  ;^i2oo  by  the  Second.  He  was  negligent  and 
neral  bestowed  upon  him  by  the  contribution  of  a  bad  manager.  Latterly,  the  Duke  of  Queens- 
several  persons  of  quality.     P.  bury  took  his  money  into  his  keeping,  and  let 

2  [John  Gay  (born  in  1688)  was  one  of  Pope's  him  only  have  what  was  necessary  out  of  it; 
dearest  friends ;  and  when  he  died,  Dec.  4th  1732,  and,  as  he  lived  with  them,  he  could  not  have 
was  mourned  by  the  former,  in  a  letter  to  Swift,  occasion  for  much.  He  died  worth  upwards  of 
as  one  who  must  have  achieved  happiness  '  if  ;^3ooo.'  As  to  the  Duchess  of  Queensbury  sec 
innocence   and   integrity   can   deserve  it.'     To  Moral  Essays,  ii.  v.  193.] 

"what  extent  the  genius  of  Gay  was  neglected,  3  After  v.  270  in  the  MS. 

may  appear  from  the  following  statement  made  *  Friendships  from  youth  I  sought,  and  seek  them 
by  Pope  himself  to  Spence:    *  He  dangled   for  still: 

twenty  years   about   a   court,  and  at   last  was  Fame,  like   the  wind,  may  breathe  where'er  it 
offered  to  be  made  usher  to  the  young  princess.  will. 

Secretary  Craggs  made  G.  a  present  of  stock  The  World  I  knew,  but  made  it  not  my  School, 

in  the  South-Sea  year;  and  he  was  once  worth  And  in  a  course  of  flatt'ry  liv'd  no  fool.' 
;C2o,ooo;    but  lost  it  all  again.     He   got  about 


284  EPISTLE  TO  DR.   ARBUTHNOT 

'T  is  all  in  vain,  deny  it  as  I  will. 

'  No,  such  a  Genius  never  can  lie  still ; ' 

And  then  for  mine  obligingly  mistakes 

The  first  Lampoon  Sir  IVill.'^  or  Bubo'^  makes.  280 

Poor  guiltless  1!  and  can  I  choose  but  smile, 

When  ev'ry  Coxcomb  knows  me  by  my  Style  f^ 

Curst  be  the  verse,  how  well  soe'er  it  flow,* 
That  tends  to  make  one  worthy  man  my  foe, 
Give  Virtue  scandal,  Innocence  a  fear,  285 

Or  from  the  soft-eyed  Virgin  steal  a  tear. 
But  he  who  hurts  a  harmless  neighbour's  peace, 
\  Insults  falPn  worth,  or  Beauty  in  distress, 

Who  loves  a  Lie,  lame  Slander  helps  about. 

Who  writes  a  Libel,  or  who  copies  out :  290 

That  Fop,  whose  pride  affects  a  patron's  name, 

Yet  absent,  wounds  an  author's  honest  fame : 

Who  can /^?^r  merit  selfishly  approve. 

And  show  the  seitse  of  it  without  the  love; 

Who  has  the  vanity  to  call  you  friend,  295 

Yet  wants  the  honour,  injur'd,  to  defend ; 

Who  tells  whatever  you  think,  whatever  you  say, 

And,  if  he  lie  not,  must  at  least  betray  : 

Who  to  the  Dean^  and  silver  bell  can  swear,^ 

And  sees  at  Canons  what  was  never  there ;  300 

Who  reads,  but  with  a  lust  to  misapply, 

Make  Satire  a  Lampoon,  and  Fiction,  Lie.  4 

A  lash  like  mine  no  honest  man  shall  dread, 

But  all  such  babbling  blockheads  in  his  stead. 

Let  Sporus  tremble^ —    A.   What?  that  thing  of  silk,     305 

1  Sir   William    Yonge.     Bowles.     [*  A   man      With  George  and  Fred'ric  roughen  every 
whose  fluency  and  readiness  of  speech  amounted  verse, 

to  a  fault,  and  were  often  urged  as  a  reproach,  Then  smooth  up  all,  and  Caroline  rehearse, 

and  of  whom  Sir  Robert  Walpole  himself  always  A.     No  —  the  high  talk  to  lift  up  Kings  to  Gods 

said  that  nothing  but  Y.'s  character  could  keep  Leave  to  Court-sermons,  and  to  birth-day  Odes, 

down  his  parts,  and  nothing  but  his  parts  sup-  On  themes  like  these,  superior  far  to  thine, 

port  his  character.'    Lord  Stanhope.     He  was  Let  laurell'd  Gibber,  and  great  Arnal  f  shine, 

a  supporter  of  Walpole's.]  P.     Why  write  at  all.'*  —  A.    Yes,  silence  if  you 

2  Bubb   Doddington,   afterwards   Lord  Mel-  keep, 

combe,  the  author  of  a  well  known  Diary  and  The  Town,  the  Court,  the  Wits,  the  Dunces 

the  confidential  adviser  of  Frederick  Prince  of  weep.' 

Wales.     He  is  a  character  typical  in  many  re-  Warburton. 

spects  of  his  age ;    utterly  unconscientious  and  *  [Contrast  with  the  self-complacency  of  Pope 

cheerfully  blind  to  his  unconscientiousness;  and  Dryden's    noble   lines   of   self-reproach  in   the 

a  liberal  rather   than  discriminating  patron  of  Elegy  on  Anne  Killigrew.'] 

literary  men.     He  died  in  1762.]  ^  Who  to  the  Dean,  and  silver  bell,  &^c.'\ 

3  After  V.  282  in  the  MS.  Meaning  the  man  who  would  have  persuaded  the 
*  P.     What  if  I  sing  Augustus,  great  and  good  ?  Duke  of  Chandos  that  Mr.  P.  meant  him  in  those 

A.    You  did  so  lately,  was  it  understood  ?  circumstances  ridiculed  in  the  Epistle  on  Taste. 

P.     Be  nice  no  more,  but,  with  a  mouth  pro-  See  Mr.  Pope's  Letter  to  the  Earl  of  Burlington 

found,  concerning  this  matter,    P.    [See  note  on  M^ra/ 

As  rumbling  D — s  *  or  a  Norfolk  hound ;  Essays,  Ep.  i.  v.  54.] 

*  [Dennis.]     \  [See  Dunciad,  bk.  ii.  v.  315.J         ^  [The  original  of  this  famous  portrait  was 


EPISTLE  TO  DR.   ARBUTHNOT. 


28; 


kT 


GT 


^6-- 
^^^ 


^^ 


c^A 


Sporus,  that  mere  white  curd  of  Ass's  milk?* 

Satire  or  sense,  alas !  can  Sporus  feel  ? 

Who  breaks  a  butterfly  upon  a  wheel  ? 

P.    Yet  let  me  flap  this  bug  with  gilded  wings,         ,     k 

This  painted  child  of  dirt,  that  stinks  and  stings;  ^  ''  •  310 

Whose  buzz  the  witty  and  the  fair  annoys, 

Yet  wit  ne'er  tastes,  and  beauty  ne'er  enjoys : 

So  well-bred  spaniels  civilly  delight 

In  mumbling  of  the  game  they  dare  not  bite. 

Eternal  smiles  his  emptiness  betray,  315 

As  shallow  streams  run  dimpling  all  the  way. 

Whether  in  florid  impotence  he  speaks, 

And,  as  the  prompter  breathes,  the  puppet  squeaks ; 

Or  at  the  ear  of  Eve^  familiar  Toad,^ 

Half  froth, 3  half  venom,  spits  himself  abroad,  320 

In  puns,  or  politics,  or  tales,  or  lies, 

Or  spite,  or  smut,  or  rhymes,  or  blasphemies. 

His  wit  all  see-saw,  between  that  and  thiSy  \ 

Now  high,  now  low,  now  master  up,  now  miss,      > 

And  he  himself  one  vile  Antithesis.^  J  325 

Amphibious  thing!  that  acting  either  part, 


John  Lord  Hervey,  eldest  surviving  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Bristol  and  author  of  the  Memoirs  of 
the  Reign  of  George  II.  At  an  early  age  he  be- 
came a  great  favourite  at  the  court  of  the  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Wales  at  Richmond,  where  Pope 
and  his  literary  friends  enjoyed  high  favour.  He 
married  Miss  Lepell,  whom  Pope  himself  greatly 
admired.  Afterwards  he  attached  himself  to 
Walpole's  party  and  was  appointed  Vice  Cham- 
berlain to  the  King  (George  II.).  Ultimately 
he  attained  to  the  office  of  Lord  Privy  Seal ;  and 
after  Walpole's  fall  continued  to  take  an  active 
part  in  politics,  notwithstanding  his  miserable 
health,  till  his  death  in  1743.  The  cause  of  his 
estrangement  from  Pope  remains  obscure;  but 
the  first  public  offence  was  given  by  Pope,  in 
allusions  in  his  Miscellanies  {ij^j)  and  the  first 
edition  of  the  Dtinciad  (1728).  Then  in  1734 
appeared  the  Imitation  of  the  2nd  Satire  of  the 
ist  Bk.  of  Horace,  where  Lord  Hervey  was 
twice  attacked  under  the  sobriquet  of  Lord 
Fanny,  and  his  friend  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Mon- 
tagu was  even  more  venomously  aspersed.  They 
retorted  in  verse  and  prose ;  and  Pope  wrote  his 
prose  Letter  to  a  noble  Lord.  The  character 
of  Sporus  followed  in  1734;  and  another  attack 
in  the  satire,  originally  called  {Epilogue  to  the 
Satires)  1738  brought  out  a  poem  The  Differ- 
ence bettveeti  Verbal  and  Practical  Virtue 
exemplified,  &c.  by  Lord-H.  The  original 
hints  for  all  the  insinuations  and  insults  intro- 
duced by  Pope  into  the  character  of  Sporus  are, 
according  to  Mr.  Croker,  to  be  found  in  Pulte- 


ney's  Reply  to  a  pamphlet  against  himself  and 
Bolingbroke  (1731)  which  he  attributed  to  H. 
The  Reply  brought  about  a  duel.  Mr.  Croker 
can  find  no  evidence  for  the  report  that  the  rupt- 
ure between  Pope  and  Lady  Mary  was  due  to 
the  *  rivalry '  between  himself  and  Hervey  '  in 
her  good  graces.']  In  the  first  edition.  Pope  had 
the  name  *  Paris '  instead  of  *  Sporus.'    Bowles. 

^  [Lady  M.  W.  M.  humorously  divided  the 
world  into  '  men,  women  and  Herveys.'  As  to 
his  whiteness  cf.  Dunciad,  iv.  104.  His  mis- 
erable health  necessitated  a  peculiar  diet.] 

2  See  Milton,  Book  iv.  P.  [In  the  first  edi- 
tion Pope  explained  this  allusion  by  reference  to 
a  passage  in  Lady  M.  W.  M.'s  lampoon  against 
himself.] 

8  Half  frothy  Alluding  to  those  frothy  ex- 
cretions, called  by  the  people,  Toad-spits,  seen 
in  summer-time  hanging  upon  plants,  and 
emitted  by  young  insects  which  lie  hid  in  the 
midst  of  them,  for  their  preservation,  while  in 
their  helpless  state.  Warburton.  [Goethe's 
Mephistophiles  is  *  an  abortion  of  mud  and 
fire.'] 

*  The  only  trait  perhaps  of  the  whole  [char- 
acter of  Sporus]  that  is  not  either  false  or  over- 
charged, is  Hervey's  love  for  antithesis,  which 
Pulteney  had  already  ridiculed.  .  .  .  His  parlia- 
mentary speeches  were,  as  Warton  says,  very 
far  above  ^florid  impotence ;  but  they  were  in 
favour  of  the  Ministry,  and  that  was  sufficiently 
offensive  to  Pope.'  Croker^  Lord  Hervey  s 
Memoirs ^  Biogr.  Notice* 


286 


EPISTLE  TO  DR.   ARBUTHNOT, 


A 


I 


"V 


The  trifling  head  or  the  corrupted  heart, 

Fop  at  the  toilet,  flatt'rer  at  the  board. 

Now  trips  a  Lady,  and  now  struts  a  Lord. 

Eve's  tempter  thus  the  Rabbins  have  exprest,  330 

A  Cherub's  face,  a  reptile  all  the  rest ; 

Beauty  that  shocks  you,  parts  that  none  will  trust ; 

Wit  that  can  creep,  and  pride  that  licks  the  dust. 

Not  P^ortune's  worshipper,  nor  fashion's  fool, 
Not  Lucre's  madman,  nor  Ambition's  tool,  335 

Not  proud,  nor  servile  ;  —  be  one  Poet's  praise, 
That,  if  he  pleas'd,  he  pleas'd  by  manly  ways : 
That  Flatt'ry,  ev'n  to  Kings,  he  held  a  shame, 
And  thought  a  Lie  in  verse  or  prose  the  same. 
iThat  not  in  Fancy's  maze  he  wander'd  long,  340 

iBut  stoop'd  to  Truth, ^  and  moraliz'd  his  song :  ^ 
That  not  for  Fame,  but  Virtue's  better  end, 
He  stood  the  furious  foe,  the  timid  friend, 
The  damning  critic,  half  approving  wit, 

The  coxcomb  hit,  or  fearing  to  be  hit ;  345 

Laugh'd  at  the  loss  of  friends  he  never  had. 
The  dull,  the  proud,  the  wicked,  and  the  mad ; 
The  distant  threats  of  vengeance  on  his  head, 
The  blow  unfelt,  the  tear  he  never  shed ; 

The  tale  reviv'd,  the  lie  so  oft  o'erthrown,^  350 

Th'  imputed  trash,  and  dulness  not  his  own ;  * 
The  morals  blacken'd  when  the  writings  scape, 
The  libell'd  person,  and  the  pictur'd  shape ; 
Abuse,  on  all  he  lov'd,  or  lov'd  him,  spread,^ 
A  friend  in  exile,  or  a  father,  dead ;  355 

The  whisper,  that  to  greatness  still  too  near, 
Perhaps,  yet  vibrates  on  his  Sov'reign's  ear :  - 
Welcome  for  thee,  fair  Virtue!  all  the  past ; 
For  thee,  fair  Virtue  !  welcome  ev'n  the  last! 

A.    But  why  insult  the  poor,  aff"ront  the  great?  360 

P.   A  knave  's  a  knave,  to  me,  in  ev'ry  state  : 
Alike  my  scorn,  if  he  succeed  or  fail, 
Sporus  at  court,  or  Japhet  in  a  jail, 
A  hireling  scribbler,  or  a  hireling  peer. 


1  But  stoop'd  to  Truth ^  The  term  is  from 
falconry;  and  the  allusion  to  one  of  those  un- 
tamed birds  of  spirit,  which  sometimes  wantons 
at  large  in  airy  circles  before  it  regards,  or 
stoops  to,  its  prey.      Warburton. 

2  [i.e.  made  his  poetry  Moral,  in  both  senses 
of  the  term.] 

3  the  lie  so  oft  o'erthrown]  As,  that  he  re- 
ceived subscriptions  for  Shakespear,  that  he  set 
his  name  to  Mr.  Broome's  verses,  &c.  which, 
tho'  publicly  disproved  were  nevertheless  shame- 
lessly repeated  in  the  Libels,  and  even  in  that 
called  the  Nobleman's  Epistle,    P. 


*  Th'  imputed  trash,"]  Such  as  profane 
Psalms,  Court-Poems,  and  other  scandalous 
things,  printed  in  his  Name  by  Curll  and 
others.     P. 

s  Abuse,  on  all  he  lov'd,  or  lov'd  him, 
spread,^  Namely  on  the  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
the  Earl  of  Burlington,  Lord  Bathurst,  Lord 
Bolingbroke,  Bishop  Atterbury,  Dr.  Swift,  Dr. 
Arbuthnot,  Mr.  Gay,  his  Friends,  his  Parents, 
and  his  very  Nurse,  aspersed  in  printed  papers, 
by  James  Moore,  G.  Ducket,  L.  Welsted,  Tho. 
Bentley,  and  other  obscure  persons.    P. 


EPISTLE  TO  DR.    ARBUTHNOT. 


287 


Knight  of  the  post  ^  corrupt,  or  of  the  shire  ;  365 

If  on  a  Pillory,  or  near  a  Throne, 

He  gain  his  Prince's  ear,  or  lose  his  own. 

Yet  soft  by  nature,  more  a  dupe  than  wit,^ 
Sappho  can  tell  you  how  this  man  was  bit ; 
This  dreaded  SatVist  Dennis  will  confess  370 

Foe  to  his  pride,  but  friend  to  his  distress :  ^ 
So  humble,  he  has  knocked  at  Tibbald^s  door, 
Has  drunk  with  Cibber^  nay  has  rhym'd  for  Moore, 
Full  ten  years  slandered,  did  he  once  reply?* 
Three  thousand  suns  went  down  on  Welsted^s  lie.^  375 

To  please  a  Mistress  one  aspersM  his  life ; 
He  lash'd  him  not,  but  let  her  be  his  wife. 
Let  Budgel  charge  low  Grtibstreet  on  his  quill,^ 
And  write  whatever  he  pleasM,  except  his  Will ;  '^ 
Let  the  two  Curlls  of  Town  and  Court,  abuse  380 

His  father,  mother,  body,  soul,  and  muse.^ 


*  [*  Like  Knights  o'  th'  Post,  and  falsely  charge 
Upon  themselves  what  others  forge,' 

Hudibras,  Part  i.  Canto  i. 
The  so-called  *  Knights  of  the  Post '  stood  about 
the  sheriff's  pillars  near  the  courts,  in  readiness 
to  swear  anything  for  pay.  See  R.  Bell's  note 
ad  tOc] 

2  Ver.  368  in  the  MS. 

*  Once,  and  but  once,  his  heedless  youth  was  bit. 
And  lik'd  that  dang'rous  thing,  a  female  wit: 
Safe  as  he  thought,  tho'  all  the  prudent  chid; 
He  writ  no  Libels,  but  my  Lady  did: 
Great  odds  in  am'rous  or  poetic  game. 
Where  Woman's    is    the    sin,   and  Man's   the 

shame.' 
[Again  alluding  to  Lady  Mary.] 

3  [V.  aute,  note  to  v.  48,] 

*  fen  years]  It  was  so  long  after  many  libels 
before  the  Author  of  the  Dunciad  published  that 
poem,  till  when,  he  never  writ  a  word  in  answer 
to  the  many  scurrilities  and  falsehoods  concern- 
ing him.     P. 

5  Welsted's  He.']  This  man  had  the  impu- 
dence to  tell  in  print,  that  Mr.  P.  had  occasioned 

'  a  Lady's  death,  and  to  name  a  person  he  never 
heard  of.  He  also  publish'd  that  he  libell'd  the 
Duke  of  Chandos ;  with  whom  (it  was  added) 
that  he  had  lived  in  familiarity,  and  received 
from  him  a  present  oi  five  hundred  pounds  : 
the  falsehood  of  both  which  is  known  to  his  Grace. 
Mr.  P.  never  received  any  present,  farther  than 
the  subscription  for  Homer,  from  him,  or  from 
Any  great  Man  whatsoever.  P.  [Compare 
Dunciad,  11.  vv.  207-210.] 

6  Let  Budgel]  Budgel,  in  a  weekly  pamphlet 
called  the  Bee,  bestowed  much  abuse  on  him,  in 
the  imagination  that  he  writ  some  things  about 
iYM  Last  Will  of  Dr.  Tindal,  in  the  Grub-street 


Journal ;  a  Paper  wherein  he  never  had  the 
least  hand,  direction,  or  supervisal,  nor  the  least 
knowledge  of  its  Author.  P.  [He  reappears  in 
the  Dunciad,  11.  v.  397.] 

'^except  his  Will;]  Alluding  to  Tindal's 
Will:  by  which,  and  other  indirect  practices, 
Budgell,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  next  heir,  a 
nephew,  got  to  himself  almost  the  whole  fortune 
of  a  man  entirely  unrelated  to  him.  P.  [Budgel 
was  believed  to  have  forged  a  will  purporting  to 
be  by  Dr.  Matthew  Tindal,  the  author  of  Chris- 
tianity as  old  as  the  Creation.] 

8  His  father,  mother,  &^c.]  In  some  of 
Curll's  and  other  pamphlets,  Mr.  Pope's  father 
was  said  to  be  a  Mechanic,  a  Hatter,  a  Farmer, 
nay  a  Bankrupt.  But,  what  is  stranger,  a  Noble- 
man (if  such  a  Reflection  could  be  thought  to 
come  from  a  Nobleman)  had  dropt  an  allusion 
to  that  pitiful  untruth,  in  a  paper  called  an 
Epistle  to  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  :  And  the  fol- 
lowing line. 

Hard  as  thy  Heart,  and  as  thy  Birth  obscure, 

had  fallen  from  a  like  Courtly  pen,  in  certain 
Verses  to  the  Imitator  of  Horace.  Mr.  Pope's 
Father  was  of  a  Gentleman's  Family  in  Oxford- 
shire, the  head  of  which  was  the  Earl  of  Downe, 
whose  sole  Heiress  married  the  Earl  of  Lindsey. 
His  mother  was  the  daughter  of  William  Tumor, 
Esq.  of  York:  she  had  three  brothers,  one  of 
whom  was  killed,  another  died  in  the  service  of 
King  Charles;  the  eldest  following  his  fortunes, 
and  becoming  a  general  officer  in  Spain,  left  her 
what  estate  remained  after  the  sequestrations 
and  forfeitures  of  her  family —  Mr.  Pope  died  in 
T-T^li  aged  75;  she  in  1733,  aged  93,  a  very  few 
weeks  after  this  poem  was  finished.  The  follow- 
ing inscription  was  placed  by  their  son  on  theii 


288  EPISTLE  TO  DR.   ARBUTHNOT, 

Yet  why  ?  that  Father  held  it  for  a  rule, 

It  was  a  sin  to  call  our  neighbour  fool : 

That  harmless  Mother  thought  no  wife  a  whore: 

Hear  this,  and  spare  his  family, /^///^j*  Moore!  385 

Unspotted  names,  and  memorable  long! 

If  there  be  force  in  Virtue,  or  in  Song. 

Of  gentle  blood  (part  shed  in  Honour's  cause, 
While  yet  in  Britain  Honour  had  applause) 
/  1    Each  parent  sprung  ^  —  A.  What  fortune,  pray  ? — P.  Their  own, 
*    And  better  got,  than  Bestia's  from  the  throne.^  391 

Born  to  no  Pride,  inheriting  no  Strife, 
Nor  marrying  Discord  in  a  noble  wife,^ 
Stranger  to  civil  and  religious  rage. 

The  good  man  walkM  innoxious  thro'  his  age.  395 

Nor  Courts  he  saw,  no  suits  would  ever  try, 
Nor  dar'd  an  Oath,  nor  hazarded  a  Lie.* 
Un-learn'd,  he  knew  no  schoolman's  subtle  art, 
No  language,  but  the  language  of  the  heart. 
By  Nature  honest,  by  Experience  wise,  400 

Healthy  by  temperance,  and  by  exercise ; 
His  life,  tho'  long,  to  sickness  past  unknown, 
His  death  was  instant,  and  without  a  groan. 
O  grant  me,  thus  to  live,  and  thus  to  die! 
Who  sprung  from  Kings  shall  know  less  joy  than  I.^  405 

O  Friend!  may  each  domestic  bliss  be  thine! 
[  iBe  no  unpleasing  Melancholy  mine  : 
■Me,  let  the  tender  office  long  engage, 
To  rock  the  cradle  of  reposing  Age, 

With  lenient  arts  extend  a  Mother's  breath,  4x0 

Make  Languor  smile,  and  smooth  the  bed  of  Death, 
Explore  the  thought,  explain  the  asking  eye. 
And  keep  a  while  one  parent  from  the  sky! 
On  cares  like  these  if  length  of  days  attend. 
May  Heav'n,  to  bless  those  days,  preserve  my  friend,  415 

Preserve  him  social,  cheerful,  and  serene, 


X 


f 


Monument  in  the  parish  of  Twickenham,  in  able  peace.]     [Crocker  says  the  elder  Ho'»ace 

Middlesex.  Walpole  is  meant.     Am.  Ed.] 

D.     O.     M.  ^  Alluding  to  Addison's  marriage  with   the 

Alexandro  .  Pope  .  viro  .  innocvo  .  probo  .  Pio  .  Countess  of  Warwick,  and  Dryden's  with  Lady 

Qvi .  vixiT .  ANNOS .  Lxxv .  OB  .  MDCCXVii .  Elizabeth  Howard.     Carruthers. 

ET .  EDiTHAE .  CONIVGI .  iNCVLPABiLi .  *  He  was  a  nonjuror,  and  would  not  take  the 

PiENTissiMAE .  QVAE  .  VIXIT .  ANNOS .  ^ath  of  allegiance  or  supremacy,  or  the  oath 

xciii .  OB .  MDCCXxxiii .  against  the  Pope.     Bowles. 

PARENTIBVS  .  BENEMERENTIBVS  .  FILIVS  .  FECIT  .  ^  After  V.  405  in  the  MS. 

ET    siBi.     P.  *  ^"^^  o^  myself,  too,  something  must  I  say? 
Take  then  this  verse,  the  trifle  of  a  day. 

1  [See  Introductory  Memoir,  p.  viii.]  And  if  it  live,  it  lives  but  to  commend 

2  [L.  Calpurnius  Bestia,  who  here  seems  to  The  man  whose  heart  has  ne'er  forgot  a  Friend, 
signify  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  was  a  Roman  Or  head,  an  Author:  Critic,  yet  polite 
proconsul,  bribed  by  Jugurtha  into  a  dishonour-  And  friend  to  Learning,  yet  too  wise  to  write.' 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE.  389 

And  just  as  rich  as  when  he  serv'd  a  Queen. ^ 
A.  Whether  that  blessing  be  deny'd  or  giv'n, 
Thus  far  was  right,  the  rest  belongs  to  Heav'n. 


SATIRES   AND   EPISTLES   OF   HORACE 
IMITATED. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  Occasion  of  publishing  these  Imitations  was  the  clamour  raised  on  some  of  my 
Epistles.  An  Answer  from  Horace  was  both  more  full,  and  of  more  Dignity,  than  any 
I  could  have  made  in  my  own  person ;  and  the  Example  of  much  greater  Freedom  in 
so  eminent  a  Divine  as  Dr.  Donne,  seem'd  a  proof  with  what  indignation  and  contempt 
a  Christian  may  treat  Vice  or  Folly,  in  ever  so  low,  or  ever  so  high  a  Station.  Both 
these  Authors  were  acceptable  to  the  Princes  and  Ministers  under  whom  they  lived. 
The  Satires  of  Dr.  Donne  I  versified,  at  the  desire  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford  \^h\\^  he  was 
Lord  Treasurer,  and  of  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury  who  iiad  been  Secretary  of  State ; 
neither  of  whom  look'd  upon  a  Satire  on  Vicious  Courts  as  any  Reflection  on  those 
they  serv'd  in.  And  indeed  there  is  not  in  the  world  a  greater  error,  than  that  which 
Fools  are  so  apt  to  fall  into,  and  Knaves  with  good  reason  to  encourage,  the  mistaking 
a  Satirist  for  a  Libeller  ;  whereas  to  a  true  Satirist  nothing  is  so  odious  as  a  Libeller^ 
for  the  same  reason  as  to  a  man  truly  virtuous  nothing  is  so  hateful  as  a  Hypocrite. 

Uni  (squus  Virtuti  atque  ejus  Amicis.     P. 

['  Whoever,*  says  Warburton,  '  expects  2i  paraphrase  of  Horace,  or  a  faithful  copy  of 
his  genius,  or  manner  of  writing  in  these  Imitations,  will  be  much  disappointed.  Our 
author  uses  the  Roman  poet  for  little  more  than  his  canvas;  and  if  the  old  design  or 
colouring  chance  to  suit  his  purpose,  it  is  well;  if  not,  he  employs  his  own,  without 
scruple  or  ceremony.'  '  He  deemed  it  more  modest,'  felicitously  adds  the  same  author- 
ity, '  to  give  the  name  of  Imitations  to  his  Satires,  than,  like  Despreaux  '  [Boileau],  '  to 
give  the  name  of  Satires  to  Imitations.'  '  In  two  large  columns,'  wrote  a  less  kindly 
critic,  from  whom  impartiality  could  hardly  be  expected,  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu 
(alluding  to  the  juxtaposition  of  the  Latin  and  English  texts),  — 

*  In  two  large  columns,  on  thy  motley  page 
Where  Roman  wit  is  strip'd  with  English  rage; 
Where  ribaldry  to  satire  makes  pretence, 
And  modern  scandal  rolls  with  ancient  sense: 
Whilst  on  one  side  we  see  how  Horace  thought 
And  on  the  other  how  he  never  wrote: 
Who  can  believe,  who  views  the  bad  and  good, 
That  the  dull  copyist  better  understood 
That  spirit  he  pretends  to  imitate, 
Than  heretofore  the  Greek  he  did  translate ;  * 

proceeded,  from  this  pleasant  allusion  to  Pope's  Homer,  to  explain  the  moral  obh'qui- 
ties  of  her  detractor  by  his  defects  of  person,  birth  and  nature.  It  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  Sappho  would  sing  the  praises  of  these  Imitations;   and  the  question 

'^  And  just  as  rich  as  when  he  served  a  real  and  unaffected  disinterestedness,  when  h« 
Queen.^     An  honest  compliment  to  his  Friend's    was  the  favourite  Physician  of  Queen  Anne. 

..  Warbicrtoju 


290  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

remains,  to  what  species  of  composition  they  belong,  and  what  rank  they  hold  among 
efforts  of  that  species. 

They  are  not  Translations ;  neither  of  the  close  nor  of  the  loose  kind,  and  are  there- 
fore at  once  removed  from  comparison  even  with  Dryden's  magnificent  versions,  splen- 
did in  their  very  faults,  of  Juvenal.  Nor  do  they  properly  bear  the  name  of  Imitations  ; 
for  an  Imitation  of  an  earlier. author  is  an  attempt  to  produce  a  poem  in  his  style  and 
manner,  though  not  necessarily  on  the  same  subject.  Thomson's  Castle  of  Indolence 
is  an  Imitation  of  Spenser;  Johnson's  London  is  an  Imitation  of  Boileau,  or,  indeed, 
of  Oldham  and  of  Pope  himself.  But  Pope  differs  quite  sufficiently  in  manner  and 
style  from  Horace  to  place  his  so-called  '  Imitations  '  out  of  the  category  to  which  they 
assume  to  belong.  They  are  rather  Adaptations,  or  as  Warburton  has  correctly  sug- 
gested, Parodies ;  in  other  words,  they  take  as  much  of  the  ancient  form  as  suits  the 
purposes  of  the  modern  poet,  they  occasionally  cling  closely  to  its  outlines,  occasionally 
desert  them  altogether.  It  was  the  form  which  came  most  readily,  and  originally  almost 
accidentally,  to  Pope's  hands ;  and  which  he  justly  thought  himself  free  to  use  in  his 
own  way.  The  example  of  the  First  Epistle  of  the  Second  Book  will  best  illustrate 
these  remarks.  In  Pope's  '  Imitation '  the  original  is  here  turned  upside  down,  and 
what  in  Horace  is  a  panegyric,  in  the  English  poem  becomes  a  covert  satire.  As 
Pope  meant  to  suggest  that  George  II.  was  a  parody  on  Augustus,  so  his  Epistle  is  a 
parody  on,  and  not  an  imitation  of,  the  Latin  poem. 

It  is  therefore  obvious  that  any  comparison  or  contrast  between  the  Latin  and  Eng- 
lish poets,  interesting  and  suggestive  as  it  doubtless  is  from  other  points  of  view,  is  idle 
with  reference  to  the  relation  between  these  'Imitations'  and  their  'originals.'  War- 
burton  is  true  to  his  self-imposed  task  of  vindicating  the  Christian  orthodoxy  of  Pope, 
in  pointing  out,  ever  and  anon,  passages  where  the  latter  has  substituted  for  the  Epi- 
curean heresies  of  the  genial  Roman  turns  of  thought  more  becoming  the  friend  of  an 
embryo  bishop.  Horace  designed  his  Satires  and  Epistles  as  humorous  sketches  of 
society,  seasoned  with  such  personal  allusions  as  appeared  necessary  to  enliven  his 
pictures,  or  as  suggested  themselves  to  a  ready  wit  which  can  never  teach  a  lesson 
without  applying  it.  What  with  him  was  ornament,  with  Pope  was  purpose.  What- 
ever may  have  been  the  philosophical  system  with  which  Warburton  laboured  so  hard 
to  credit  him,  the  centre  of  that  system  was  Pope;  nor  were  his  friends  and  foes  so 
much  introduced  into  these  Imitations  to  point  morals,  as  the  morals  preached  to 
introduce  his  friends  and  foes,  and  himself. 

The  ease  with  which  Pope  moved  in  a  form  which  imposed  no  restraint  on  his  wit, 
makes  these  '  Imitations '  the  most  enjoyable  of  all  his  productions.  He  closed  the 
last  Dialogue  of  the  '  Epilogue  '  with  an  announcement  of  his  resolution  never  to  pub- 
lish any  more  poems  of  the  kind.  Yet  it  was  at  the  time  (1741)  when  he  was  meditat- 
ing a  new  Dunciad  that  he  informed  Lord  Marchmont  that  '  uneasy  desire  of  fame' 
and  '  keen  resentment  of  injuries  '  were  '  both  asleep  together  ' ;  and  even  if  we-  regard 
as  spurious  the  fragment  of  an  unpublished  Satire  entitled  '  1740,'  found  among  his 
papers  by  Bolingbroke,  and  full  of  personal  allusions  to  '  Bub,'  and  '  Hervey'  and 
others,  we  may  remain  in  doubt,  whether  had  he  Hved  he  would  or  could  have  adhered 
to  his  determination.  But  he  had  done  enough  to  establish  himself  as  the  unapproached 
master  of  personal  satire  in  a  poetic  form  ;  and  to  damn  a  multitude  of  victims,  helpless 
against  the  strokes  of  genius,  to  everlasting  fame.] 


IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE.  291 


THE  FIRST   SATIRE 

OF  THE 

SECOND   BOOK   OF   HORACE. 

SATIRE   I. 

To  Mr.  Fortescue.1 

[First  published  in  1733  under  the  title  of  Dialogue  between  Alexander  Pope,  of 
Twickenham,  on  the  one  part,  and  the  learned  counsel  oti  the  other.  In  Horace's  Satire 
the  interlocutors  are  the  poet  and  G.  Trebatius  Testa,  the  friend  of  Caesar  and  of  Cicero 
(among  whose  correspondents  he  appears) .  It  forms  a  kind  of  introduction  to  Horace's 
Second  Book  of  Satires.] 

P.    nnHERE  are,  (I  scarce  can  think  it,  but  am  told,) 
1.    There  are,  to  whom  my  Satire  seems  too  bold : 
Scarce  to  wise  Peter  complaisant  enough. 
And  something  said  of  Chartres  much  too  rough. 
The  lines  are  weak,  another 's  pleasM  to  say,  5 

Lord  Fanny  2  spins  a  thousand  such  a  day. 
TimVous  by  nature,  of  the  Rich  in  awe, 
I  come  to  Counsel  learned  in  the  Law : 
You  '11  give  me,  like  a  friend  both  sage  and  free, 
Advice ;  and  (as  you  use)  without  a  Fee.  10 

F.   I  'd  write  no  more. 

P.    Not  write?  but  then  I  think, 
And  for  my  soul  I  cannot  sleep  a  wink. 
I  nod  in  company,  I  wake  at  night. 
Fools  rush  into  my  head,  and  so  I  write. 

F.   You  could  not  do  a  worse  thing  for  your  life.  15 

Why,  if  the  nights  seem  tedious,  —  take  a  Wife : 
Or  rather  truly,  if  your  point  be  rest, 
Lettuce  and  cowslip-wine  ;  Probatum  est. 
But  talk  with  Celsus,^  Celsus  will  advise 

Hartshorn,^  or  something  that  shall  close  your  eyes.  20 

Or,  if  you  needs  must  write,  write  Caesar's  Praise, 
You  '11  gain  at  least  a  Knighthood^  or  the  Bays. 

P.  What?  like  Sir  Richard,  rumbling,  rough,  and  fierce,^ 
With  Arms,  and  George,  and  Brunswick  crowd  the  verse. 
Rend  with  tremendous  sound  your  ears  asunder,  .     25 

With  Gun,  Drum,  Trumpet,  Blunderbuss,  and  Thunder? 
Or  nobly  wild,  with  BudgePs  fire  and  force,^ 

1  [The  Hon.  W.  Fortescue,  an  intimate  friend  *  Hartshorn]  This  was  intended  as  a  pleas- 
and  a  frequent  associate  and  correspondent  of  antry  on  the  novelty  of  the  prescription.  War- 
the  poet's,  and  a  schoolfellow  of  Gay's.  He  burton.  [Given  by  Dr.  HoUins  Fortescue's 
afterwards  became  one  of  the  Barons  of  the  Ex-  physician.     Am.  Ed."] 

chequer,  and  ultimately  Master  of  the  Rolls.]  ^  [Sir  Richard  Blackmore.] 

2  [Lord  Hervey.]  e  [Budgel;    see  Epistle    to   Arbuthnot^  v. 
*  [i.c.  any  physician  of  note.]                               378.] 


292  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 

Paint  Angels  trembling  round  his  falling  Horse  ?^ 

F.    Then  all  your  Muse's  softer  art  display, 
Let  Carolina  smooth  the  tuneful  lay,^  30 

Lull  with  Amelia's  ^  liquid  name  the  Nine, 
^  And  sweetly  flow  thro'  all  the  Royal  Line. 
I     P.    Alas!  few  verses  touch  their  nicer  ear; 
f  They  scarce  can  bear  their  Laureate  twice  a  year;* 
|And  justly  C^sar  scorns  the  Poet's  lays  :  35 

[It  is  to  History  he  trusts  for  Praise.^ 

F.    Better  be  Gibber,  I  '11  maintain  it  still. 
Than  ridicule  all  Taste,  blaspheme  Quadrille, 
Abuse  the  City's  best  good  men  in  metre. 
And  laugh  at  Peers  that  put  their  trust  in  Peter.  40 

Ev'n  those  you  touch  not,  hate  you. 

P.   What  should  ail  them? « 

F.   A  hundred  smart  in  Timon  and  in  Balaam  :  "^ 
The  fewer  still  you  name,  you  wound  the  more ; 
Bond  is  but  one,  but  Harpax  is  a  score. 

P.   Each  mortal  has  his  pleasure  :  none  deny  45 

Scarsdale  his  bottle,  Darty  his  Ham-pie ;  ^ 
Ridotta^  sips  and  dances,  till  she  see 
The  doubling  Lustres  dance  as  fast  as  she ; 
F —  loves  the  Senate,^^  Hockley-hole  ^^  his  brother, 
Like  in  all  else,  as  one  Egg  to  another.  50 

I  love  to  pour  out  all  my  self,  as  plain 
As  downright  Shippen,^^  or  as  old  Montaigne : 

'^falling  Horse  .^J  The  Horse  on  which  his  /zV,  he  never  could  have  pardoned  him.  War- 
Majesty  charged  at  the  battle  of  Oudenarde;  burton.  Lyttelton  in  his  Dialogiies  of  the 
when  the  Pretender,  and  the  Princes  of  the  Dead,  has  introduced  Darteneuf,  bitterly  la- 
blood  of  France,  fled  before  him,      Warb^irton.  menting  his   ill-fortune  in  having   died  before 

2  [Caroline  of  Brandenburg- Anspach,  the  turtle-feasts  were  known  in  England.  War- 
Queen  of  George  II.  She  became  a  frequent  ton.  [Lord  Scarsdale  and  Charles  Dartique- 
object  of  Pope's  sarcasms,  after  George  II.  on  nave,  or  Dartineuf,  were  noted  epicures.  The 
his  accession  had  retained  Walpole  and  the  latter  was  in  office  as  Paymaster  of  the  Works; 
Whigs  in  office.]  and  the  poet,  Robert  Dodsley,  was  his  footman. 

3  [Princess  Amelia,  the  second  daughter  of  Carruthers  cites  a  paper  written  by  him  in  the 
George  II.     She  died  unmarried  in  1759.]  Tatler,  No.  252,  on  the  cheerful  use  of  wine. 

*  [Coliey  Cibber;  see  Introductory  Remarks  Gay  speaks  of  him  as  a  *  grave  joker.'] 

to  Dunc^ad.^^  ^  [Ridotta;     from    Ridotto,   the    fashionable 

^  [The  House  of  Brunswick  was  however  par-  Italian  term  for  an  assembly.] 

ticularly  unfortunate  in  this  respect.]  ^"^  Most  likely  Henry  Fox,  first  Lord  Holland, 

6  What  shotild  ail  them  ?]  Horace  hints  at  alluded  to  in  Ept'l.  to  Satires,  Dial.  i.  v.  71. 
Ofte  reason,  that  each  fears  his  own  turft  may  The  *  brother'  is  Stephen  Fox,  afterwards  Lord 
be  next ;  his  imitator  gives  another,  and  with  Ilchester.     Carruthers. 

more   art,  a  reason  which   insinuates,  that   his  ^^  [The  bear-garden  at  Hockley-in-the-Hole  is 

very  lenity,  in  using  feigned  names,  increases  described  in  the  Spectator,  No.  436.     Cf.  Dun- 

the  number  of  his  Enemies.  ciad,  Bk.  i.  v.  326.] 

7  [See  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  iv.  vv.  99-176,  and  ^^  William  Shippen,  an  outspoken  politician 
Ep.  III.  vv.  339-402.]  and  a  Jacobite,  who  was  sent  to  the  Tower  in 

^  Darty  his  Ham-pie ;^^    This  Lover  of  Ham-  1718.     According  to   Coxe,  he   used  to  say  of 

pie  own'd  the  fidelity  of  the  poet's  pencil ;  and  himself  and  Sir  Robert  Walpole :    *  Robin  and 

said,  he  had  done  justice  to  his  taste;  but  that  I  are  two  honest  men;    though  he  is  for  King 

if,  instead  of  Ham-pie,  he  had  given  him  Sweet-  George,  and  I  for  King  James. 'J 


^^. 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  293 

In  them,  as  certain  to  be  lov'd  as  seen, 

The  Soul  stood  forth,  nor  kept  a  thought  within ; 

In  me  what  spots  (for  spots  I  have)  appear,  55 

Will  prove  at  least  the  medium  must  be  clear. 

In  this  impartial  glass,  my  Muse  intends 

Fair  to  expose  myself,  my  foes,  my  friends ; 

Publish  the  present  age ;  but  where  my  text 

Is  Vice  too  high,  reserve  it  for  the  next :  60 

My  foes  shall  wish  my  Life  a  longer  date, 

And  evVy  friend  the  less  lament  my  fate. 

My  head  and  heart  thus  flowing  thro'  my  quill, 

Verse-man  or  Prose-man,  term  me  which  you  will, 

Papist  or  Protestant,  or  both  between,^  65 

Like  good  Erasmus  in  an  honest  Mean, 

In  moderation  placing  all  my  glory, 

While  Tories  call  me  Whig,  and  Whigs  a  Tory. 

Satire 's  my  weapon,  but  I  'm  too  discreet 
To  run  a  muck,  and  tilt  at  all  I  meet ;  70 

I  only  wear  it  in  a  land  of  Hectors, 
Thieves,  Supercargoes,  Sharpers,  and  Directors. 
Save  but  our  Ar^nyl  and  let  Jove  encrust 
Swords,  pikes,  and  guns,  with  everlasting  rust! 
Peace  is  my  dear  delight  —  not  Fleury's  more :  ^  75 

But  touch  me,  and  no  Minister  so  sore. 
Whoe'er  offends,  at  some  unlucky  time 
Slides  into  verse,  and  hitches  in  a  rhyme,^ 
Sacred  to  Ridicule  his  whole  life  long, 
And  the  sad  burthen  of  some  merry  song.  80 

Slander  or  Poison  dread  from  Delia's  rage,* 
Hard  words  or  hanging,  if  your  Judge  be  Page.^ 
From  furious  Sappho  scarce  a  milder  fate, 
P-x'd  by  her  love,  or  libell'd  by  her  hate. 
Its  proper  pow'r  to  hurt,  each  creature  feels  ;  85 

Bulls  aim  their  horns,  and  Asses  lift  their  heels; 
'T  is  a  Bear's  talent  not  to  kick,  but  hug ; 
And  no  man  wonders  he  's  not  stung  by  Pug. 
So  drink  with  Walters,  or  with  Chartres  eat, 
They  '11  never  poison  you,  they  '11  only  cheat.  90 

Then,  learned  Sir!  (to  cut  the  matter  short) 
Whate'er  my  fate,  —  or  well  or  ill  at  Court, 
Whether  Old  age,  with  faint  but  cheerful  ray, 

1  [As  Warburton  points  out,  a  great  improve-  *  [A  Miss  Mackenzie  died  about  this  time, 
ment  on  Horace's  *  Lucanus  an  Appulus,  and  was  supposed  to  have  been  poisoned  from 
anceps,'  &c.  As  to  Poi)e's  religious  standpoint  jealousy.]  The  person  alluded  to  was  Lady 
see  Introductory  Mefnoir,  p.  xxxiii.]  D — ne.     Boivles.     [Mary  Howard  Countess  of 

2  [Cardinal    Fleury,  formerly  tutor  of  King  Deloraine,  who  died  in  1744.     See  note  to  Lord 
Louis  XV.,  became  Prime  Minister  of  France  in  Hervey's  Memoirs  by  Croker,  who   'has  not. 
1726,  and  held  power  till  his  death  in  1743.     He  discovered  the  grounds  of  the  suspicion,  but  it 
was  able  to  maintain  the  pacific  policy  which  was  very  ptevalent.'] 

he  advocated  till  two  years  before  that  event.]  ^  [Judge  Page;  cf.  Epil.  to  Sat.  Dial.  ii.  v. 

*  Closely  copied  from  Boileau.     Warton.  156.] 


294  IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE, 

Attends  to  gild  the  Ev'ning  of  my  day, 

Or  Death's  black  wing  already  be  display'd,  95 

To  wrap  me  in  the  universal  shade ; 

Whether  the  darkened  room  ^  to  muse  invite, 

Or  whiten'd  wall  provoke  the  skew'r  to  write :  ^ 

In  durance,  exile,  Bedlam  or  the  Mint,^  — 

Like  Lee*  or  Budgel,  I  will  rhyme  and  print.  loo 

F.   Alas  young  man!  your  days  can  ne'er  be  long, 
In  flowV  of  age  you  perish  for  a  song! 
Plums  and  Directors,  Shylock  and  his  Wife,^ 
Will  club  their  Testers,^  now,  to  take  your  life! 

P.    What?  arm'd  for  Virtue  when  I  point  the  pen,  105 

Brand  the  bold  front  of  shameless  guilty  men  ; 
Dash  the  proud  Gamester  in  his  gilded  Car ; 
Bare  the  mean  Heart  that  lurks  beneath  a  Star', 
Can  there  be  wanting,  to  defend  Her  cause, 
Lights  of  the  Church,  or  Guardians  of  the  Laws  ?  no 

Could  pensioned  Boileau  lash  in  honest  strain 
Flatterers  and  Bigots  ev'n  in  Louis'  reign  P*^ 
Could  Laureate  Dry  den  Pimp  and  Friar  engage,^ 
Yet  neither  Charles  nor  James  be  in  a  rage  ? 
And  I  not  strip  the  gilding  off  a  knave,  115 

Unplaced,  unpension'd,^  no  man's  heir,  or  slave? 
I  will,  or  perish  in  the  gen'rous  cause : 
Hear  this,  and  tremble!  you,  who  'scape  the  Laws. 
.  ,  ,  Yes,  while  I  live,  no  rich  or  noble  knave 
sr       ,  Shall  walk  the  World,  in  credit,  to  his  grave.  120 

To  Virtue  only  and  her  friends  a  friend, 
The  World  beside  may  murmur,  or  commend. 
Know,  all  the  distant  din  that  world  can  keep. 
Rolls  o'er  my  Grotto,  and  but  soothes  my  sleep. 
There,  my  retreat  the  best  Companions  grace,  125 

Chiefs  out  of  war,  and  Statesmen  out  of  place. 
There  St.  John  mingles  with  my  friendly  bowl 

^Whether      the      darkened     room — Or  ^  [T'^j^^rj,  sixpences.     Am.  Ed^ 

whiten' d  wall — ]     This  is  only  a  wanton  joke  '^  Boileau  acted  with  much  caution  when  he 

upon  the  terms  of  his  Original,  first  published  his  Lutriii  here  alluded  to,  and 

Quisquis  erit  vitce,  scribam,  color,  endeavoured  to  cover  and  conceal  his  subject  by 

Warburton.  a  preface   laying  the  scene  at  Bourges,  not  at 

2  \the  skewer y  i.e.  the  stilus,  or  pen.]  Paris,  for  which  it  was  intended.     When  in  16S3 

3  \the  Mint.     Sec  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot,  v.  he  threw  off  the  mask,  no  offence  was  taken  by 
i3>  156.]  the  Canons  whom  he  had  ridiculed.    From  War- 

*  [Nathaniel  Lee  (born  1657,  died  1692).  This  /^«'j  note.  [Moreover,  the  ascendancy  of  big- 
gifted  but  extravagant  tragic  poet,  the  author  of  otry  and  Mad.  de  Maintenon  had  not  begun 
the  Rival  Queen,  ^^nX-VCiTAxw  1684,  but  recov-  when  Boileau  wrote  his  famous  satire;  when 
ered  his  sanity.  Some  critics  have  discovered  they  fully  prevailed  he  retired  from  Court.] 
in  his  most  famous  tragedy  signs  of  his  malady;  ^  \\w  his  Spanish  Friar.  But  he  soon 
another  has  well  remarked  on  this  that  if  *  it  be  atoned  for  that  piece  by  Absalom  and  Achito- 
madness,  there's  method  in  it.'  There  is  real  phel.'\ 
fire  in  Lee,  besides  a  great  deal  of  smoke.]  »  [Pope  declined  the  pension  offered  him  by 

^  \^Shylock  and  his  Wi/e^  the  Wortley  Mon-  Lord  Halifax  early  in  George  I.'s  reign.] 
tagus.     Am.  Ed.] 


^V^^ 


/? 


IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE,  295 

The  Feast  of  Reason  and  the  Flow  of  Soul : 

And  He,  whose  lightning  pierc'd  th^  Iberian  Lines,^ 

Now  forms  my  Quincunx,  and  now  ranks  my  Vines,  130 

Or  tames  the  Genius  of  the  stubborn  plain, 

Almost  as  quickly  as  he  conquer"d  Spain. 

Envy  must  own,  I  live  among  the  Great,^ 
No  Pimp  of  Pleasure,  and  no  Spy  of  State. 
With  eyes  that  pry  not,  tongue  that  ne'er  repeats,  135 

Fond  to  spread  friendships,  but  to  cover  heats ; 
To  help  who  want,  to  forward  who  excel ; 
This,  all  who  know  me,  know  ;  who  love  me,  tell ; 
And  who  unknown  defame  me,  let  them  be 
Scribblers  or  Peers,  alike  are  Mob  to  me.  140 

This  is  my  plea,  on  this  I  rest  my  cause  — 
What  saith  my  Counsel,  learned  in  the  laws  ? 

F.   Your  Plea  is  good  ;  but  still  I  say,  beware! 
Laws  are  explained  by  Men  —  so  have  a  care. 
It  stands  on  record,  that  in  Richard's  times  145 

A  man  was  hang'd  for  very  honest  rhymes. ^ 
Consult  the  Statute :  quart.  I  think,  it  is, 
Edwardi  sext.  ox  prim,  et  quint.  Eliz. 
See  Libels^  Satires  —  here  you  have  it  —  read. 

P.    Libels  and  Satires  I  lawless  things  indeed!  1 50 

But  grave  Epistles^  bringing  Vice  to  light, 
Such  as  a  King  might  read,  a  Bishop  write ; 

Such  as  Sir  Robert^  would  approve 

F.    Indeed? 
The  Case  is  altered — you  may  then  proceed ; 
In  such  a  cause  the  Plaintiff  will  be  hiss'd  ;  155 

My  Lords  the  Judges  laugh,  and  you  're  dismiss'd.^ 

^  And  He,  whose  lightning,  etc.]     Charles  the  footing  of  an  honest  man.     He  prided  him- 

Mordaunt  Earl  of  Peterborough,  who  in  the  year  self  in  this  superiority,  as  appears  from  the  fol- 

1705  took  Barcelona,  and  in  the  winter  following  lowing  words,    in   a   letter  to  Dr.  Swift:  "To 

with  only  280  horse  and  900  foot   enterprized  have  pleased  great  men,  according  to  Horace,  is 

and  accomplished  the  Conquest  of  Valentia.     P.  a  praise;  but  not  to  have  flattered  them,  and  yet 

[See  Macaulay's  captivating  account  of  Peter-  not  have  displeased  them,  is  a  greater."     Let. 

"borough  in  his  Essay  on  the  War  of  Succession  vii.  yan.  12,  1723,  Warbiirton. 

in  Spain.]  ^  [Bowles  reminds  the  reader  of  the  mob  in 

^  Envy  must  own,  etc.]     Horace  makes  the  Julius  Caesar  (Act  in.  Sc.  3),  demanding  that 

point  of  honour  to  consist  simply  in  his  living  Cinna   the  poet  should  be   torn   *  for  his  bad 

familiarly  with  the  Great,  verses.'] 

Cum  magnis  vixisse  invita  fatebitur  usque         *  [Walpole.] 

Invidia,  ^Solventurrisutabulce:  tu  missus  abibis. 

Our  poet,  more  nobly,  in  his  living  with  them  on  Hor. 


296  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

THE   SECOND   SATIRE 

OF  THE 

SECOND   BOOK   OF   HORACK 

SATIRE   II. 

To  Mr.  Bethel.i 

[In  Horace's  Satire  the  praise  of  temperance  is  laid  in  the  mouth  of  Ofellus,  a 
simple  farmer  with  whom  the  poet  had  been  acquainted  from  his  boyhood.] 

WHAT,  and  how  great  the  Virtue  and  the  Art 
To  live  on  little  with  a  cheerful  heart, 
(A  doctrine  sage,  but  truly  none  of  mine,) 
Let  's  talk,  my  friends,  but  talk  before  we  dine. 
Not  when  a  gilt  Buffet^s  reflected  pride  5 

Turns  you  from  sound  Philosophy  aside ; 
Not  when  from  plate  to  plate  your  eyeballs  roll, 
And  the  brain  dances  to  the  mantling  bowl. 

Hear  Bethel's  Sermon,  one  not  vers'd  in  schools, 
But  strong  in  sense,  and  wise  without  the  rules.  10 

Go  work,  hunt,  exercise!  (he  thus  began) 
Then  scorn  a  homely  dinner,  if  you  can. 
Your  wine  lockM  up,  your  Butler  strolPd  abroad, 
Or  fish  deny'd  (the  river  yet  unthaw'd), 

If  then  plain  bread  and  milk  will  do  the  feat,  15 

The  pleasure  lies  in  you,  and  not  the  meat. 

Preach  as  I  please,  I  doubt  our  curious  men 
Will  choose  a  pheasant  still  before  a  hen ; 
Yet  hens  of  Guinea  full  as  good  I  hold, 

Except  you  eat  the  feathers  green  and  gold.  20 

Of  carps  and  mullets  why  prefer  the  great, 
(Tho'  cut  in  pieces  ere  my  Lord  can  eat) 
Yet  for  small  Turbots  such  esteem  profess? 
Because  God  made  these  large,  the  other  less. 

Oldfield  2  with  more  than  Harpy  throat  endued,  25 

Cries  "  Send  me,  Gods!  a  whole  Hog  barbecued!* 
Oh  blast  it,  South-winds !  till  a  stench  exhale 
Rank  as  the  ripeness  of  a  rabbit's  tail. 
By  what  Criterion  do  ye  eat,  d'  ye  think, 

1  [Hugh  Bethel,  the  *  blameless  Bethel '  of  a  fortune  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds  a  year  in 

Moral  Essays,  Ep.  v.,  a  Yorkshire  gentleman  the  simple  luxury  of  good  eating.  Warburton. 
with  whom  Pope  was  intimate,  and  frequently  ^  Hog  barbecued,  etc. '\    A  West  Indian  term 

corresponded.     He  was  a  close  friend  of  Pope's  of  gluttony,  a  hog  roasted  whole,  stuffed  with 

dearest   friends,  the  Blounts  of  Mapledurham.  spice,  and  basted  with  Madeira  wine.    P.    [How 

He  died  in  1748.]  gross  an  antithesis  to  Charles  Lamb's  favourite 

^  Oldfleld\   This  eminent  Glutton  ran  thro'  delicate  sucking-pig!] 


IMITAT/ON'S   OF  HORACE. 


297 


If  this  is  priz'd  for  sweetness,  that  for  stink?  30 

When  the  tir'd  glutton  labours  thro'  a  treat, 

He  finds  no  relish  in  the  sweetest  meat. 

He  calls  for  something  bitter,  something  sour, 

And  the  rich  feast  concludes  extremely  poor : 

Cheap  eggs,  and  herbs,  and  olives  still  we  see ;  35 

Thus  much  is  left  of  old  Simplicity! 

The  Robin-red-breast  till  of  late  had  rest,^ 

And  children  sacred  held  a  Martin's  nest, 

Till  Becca-ficos  sold  so  dev'lish  dear 

To  one  that  was,  or  would  have  been  a  Peer.  40 

Let  me  extol  a  Cat,  on  oysters  fed, 

I  '11  have  a  party  at  the  Bedford-head ;  ^ 

Or  ev'n  to  crack  live  Crawfish  recommend ; 

I  'd  never  doubt  at  Court  to  make  a  friend. 

'T  is  yet  in  vain,  I  own,  to  make  a  pother  45 

About  one  vice,  and  fall  into  the  other : 
Between  Excess  and  Famine  lies  a  mean ; 
Plain,  but  not  sordid ;  tho'  not  splendid,  clean. 

Avidien,^  or  his  Wife  (no  matter  which, 
For  him  you  '11  call  a  dog,  and  her  a  bitch)  50 

Sell  their  presented  partridges,  and  fruits, 
And  humbly  Hve  on  rabbits  and  on  roots : 
One  half-pint  bottle  serves  them  both  to  dine,- 
And  is  at  once  their  vinegar  and  wine. 

But  on  some  lucky  day  (as  when  they  found  55 

A  lost  Bank-bill,  or  heard  their  Son  was  drown'd) 
At  such  a  feast,  old  vinegar  to  spare. 
Is  what  two  souls  so  gen'rous  cannot  bear : 
O'l,  tho'  it  stink,  they  drop  by  drop  impart. 
But  souse  the  cabbage  with  a  bounteous  heart.  60 

He  knows  to  live,  who  keeps  the  middle  state, 
And  neither  leans  on  this  side,  nor  on  that ; 
Nor  stops,  for  one  bad  cork,  his  butler's  pay, 
Swears,  like  Albutius,  a  good  cook  away ; 

Nor  lets,  like  Naevius,  ev'ry  error  pass,  65 

The  musty  wine,  foul  cloth,  or  greasy  glass. 

Now  hear  what  blessings  Temperance  can  bring : 
(Thus  said  our  friend,  and  what  he  said  I  sing,) 
First  Health  :  The  stomach  (cramm'd  from  ev'ry  dish, 
A  tomb  of  boil'd  and  roast,  and  flesh  and  fish,  70 

Where  bile,  and  wind,  and  phlegm,  and  acid  jar. 
And  all  the  man  is  one  intestine  war) 
Remembers  oft  the  School-boy's  simple  fare, 

1  [*  Cet  aimable  oiseau  se  mange  k  la  broche  3  Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  the  husband  of 
et  en  salmi.'  Almanack  des  Gourmands,  Lady  Mary.  Carruthers.  [Their  son  Edward, 
quoted  in  Mr.  Hayward's  Essay  on  the  Art  of  alluded  to  in  v.  56,  was  a  source  of  constant 
Dining.^  annoyance  to  both  his  parents;    and  Lady  M. 

2  Bedford-head  ;'\  A  famous  Eating-House.  speaks  of  '  the  impossibility  of  his  behaving  as 
P.     [In  Covcnt-Ga'.d>;.i.]                            ,  a  rational  creature.'] 


298  IMITATION'S   OF  HORACE, 

The  tempVate  sleeps,  and  spirits  light  as  air. 

How  pale,  each  Worshipful  and  Rev'rend  guest  75 

Rise  from  a  Clergy,  or  a  City  feast! 
What  life  in  all  that  ample  body,  say  ? 
What  heavenly  particle  inspires  the  clay? 
The  Soul  subsides,  and  wickedly  inclines 
To  seem  but  mortal,  ev'n  in  sound  Divines. ^  80 

On  morning  wings  how  active  springs  the  Mind 
That  leaves  the  load  of  yesterday  behind! 
How  easy  ev'ry  labour  it  pursues! 
How  coming  to  the  Poet  evVy  Muse! 

Not  but  we  may  exceed,  some  holy  time,  85 

Or  iifd  in  search  of  Truth,  or  search  of  Rhyme  ; 
111  health  some  just  indulgence  may  engage. 
And  more  the  sickness  of  long  life,  Old  age ; 
For  fainting  Age  what  cordial  drop  remains, 
If  our  intemperate  Youth  the  vessel  drains?  90 

Our  fathers  praisM  rank  ven'son.     You  suppose 
Perhaps,  young  men!  our  fathers  had  no  nose. 
Not  so :   a  Buck  was  then  a  week^s  repast. 
And  't  was  their  point,  I  ween,  to  make  it  last ; 
^1  More  pleased  to  keep  it  till  their  friends  could  come,  95 

Than  eat  the  sweetest  by  themselves  at  home. 
Why  had  I  not  in  those  good  times  my  birth. 
Ere  coxcomb-pies  ^  or  coxcombs  were  on  earth  ? 

Unworthy  he,  the  voice  of  Fame  to  hear. 
That  sweetest  music  to  an  honest  ear ;  lOO 

(For  'faith.  Lord  Fanny  !3  you  are  in  the  wrong, 
The  world's  good  word  is  better  than  a  song) 
Who  has  not  learned,  fresh  sturgeon  and  ham-pie 
Are  no  rewards  for  want,  and  infamy! 

When  Luxury  has  lick'd  up  all  thy  pelf,  105 

Curs'd  by  thy  neighbours,  thy  trustees,  thyself, 
To  friends,  to  fortune,  to  mankind  a  shame, 
Think  how  posterity  will  treat  thy  name ; 
And  buy  a  rope,  that  future  times  may  tell 
Thou  hast  at  least  bestow'd  one  penny  well.  1 10 

"  Right,"  cries  his  Lordship,  "  for  a  rogue  in  need 
"  To  have  a  Taste  is  insolence  indeed  : 
"  In  me  \  is  noble,  suits  my  birth  and  state, 
"My  wealth  unwieldy,  and  my  heap  too  great." 
Then,  like  the  Sun,  let  Bounty  spread  her  ray,  II5 

And  shine  that  superfluity  away. 
Oh  Impudence  of  wealth!  with  all  thy  store, 
How  dar'st  thou  let  one  worthy  man  be  poor? 
Shall  half  the  new-built  churches  round  thee  fall? 
Make  Quays,  build  Bridges,  or  repair  White-hall:  120 

1  [Warburton  remarks  on  the  orthodox  turn         2  j^a   delicacy   still   in  vogue   at   academical 
given  by  Pope  to  the  Epicureanism  of  Horace.]     feasts.]  ^  [Lord  Hervey.] 


\ 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE.  299 

Or  to  thy  country  let  that  heap  be  lent, 
As  M  *  *  o's  ^  was,  but  not  at  five  per  cent. 

Who  thinks  that  Fortune  cannot  change  her  mind, 
Prepares  a  dreadful  jest  for  all  mankind. 

And  who  stands  safest?  tell  me,  is  it  he  125 

That  spreads  and  swells  in  puff 'd  prosperity, 
Or  blest  with  little,  whose  preventing  care 
In  peace  provides  fit  arms  against  a  war? 

Thus  Bethel  spoke,  who  always  speaks  his  thought, 
And  always  thinks  the  very  thing  he  ought:  130 

His  equal  mind  I  copy  what  I  can, 
And,  as  I  love,  would  imitate  the  Man 
In  South-sea  days  not  happier,  when  surmis'd    . 
The  Lord  of  Thousands,  than  if  now  Excised;  ^ 
In  forest  planted  by  a  Father's  hand,^  135 

Than  in  five  acres  now  of  rented  land. 
Content  with  little,  I  can  piddle  here 
On  brocoli  and  mutton,  round  the  year ; 
But  ancient  friends  (tho'  poor,  or  out  of  play) 
That  touch  my  bell,  I  cannot  turn  away.  140 

'T  is  true,  no  Turbots  dignify  my  boards. 
But  gudgeons,  flounders,  what  my  Thames  affords : 
To  Hounslow-heath  I  point  and  Bansted-down,* 
Thence  comes  your  mutton,  and  these  chicks  my  own : 
From  yon  old  walnut-tree  a  show'r  shall  fall ;  145 

And  grapes,  long  lingVing  on  my  only  wall, 
And  figs  from  standard  and  espalier  join^* 
The  dev'l  is  in  you  if  you  cannot  dine : 
Then  cheerful  healths^  (your  Mistress  shall  have  place). 
And,  what 's  more  rare,  a  Poet  shall  say  Grace.  150 

Fortune  not  much  of  humbling  me  can  boast ; 
Tho'  double  taxM,  how  little  have  I  lost? 
My  Life's  amusements  have  been  just  the  same, 
Before,  and  after.  Standing  Armies  came.^ 
My  lands  are  sold,  my  father's  house  is  gone ;  155 

I  '11  hire  another's  ;  is  not  that  my  own. 
And  yours,  my  friends  ?  thro'  whose  free-opening  gate 
•  None  comes  too  early,  none  departs  too  late ; 
(For  I,  who  hold  sage  Homer's  rule  the  best, 

*  [The  Duchess  of  Marlborough.]  of  more  liberal  potations:    'When  he  had  two 

2  [See  notes  to  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  in.  vv.  guests  in  his  house  he  would  set  at  supper  a 
115  and  118.]  single  pint  of  wine  upon  the  table,  and  having 

3  [Pope's  father  originally  purchased  twenty  taken  himself  two  small  glasses  would  retire 
acres  of  land  in  the  outskirts  of  Windsor  Forest,  and  say,  "Gentlemen,  I  leave  you  to  your 
which  he  sold  in  1716.     The  sum  which  he  left  wine."  '] 

to  his  son  was  something  under  ;^4ooo.     The  "  [Practically,  England  has  had  a  standing 

*  five  acres  of  rented  land  '  are  the  Twickenham  army  since  the  time  of  Charles  II. ;  legally,  the 

estate.]  existence  of  the  army  depends  on  the  annual 

*  [Between  Caterham  and  Epsom.]  Mutiny-bills,  of  which  the  first  was  passed  in 
•''  [Pope's  economy  in  the  matter  of  wine  of-  1689.     From  the  first  years  of  Walpole's  admin- 
fends  Dr.  Johnson,  himself  in  general  no  enemy  istration,  the  army  (independently  of  the  Irish 


300  IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE, 


\^^ 


^ 


Welcome  the  coming,  speed  the  going  guest). ^  i6o 

"Pray  heaven  it  last!"  (cries  Swift!)  '^as  you  go  on; 

"  I  wish  to  God  this  house  had  been  your  own : 

"Pity!  to  build,  without  a  son  or  wife : 

"Why,  you'll  enjoy  it  only  all  your  life." 

Well,  if  the  use  be  mine,  can  it  concern  one,^  165 

Whether  the  name  belong  to  Pope  or  Vernon? 

What 's  Property?  dear  Swift!  you  see  it  alter 

From  you  to  me,  from  me  to  Peter  Walter ; 

Or,  in  a  mortgage,  prove  a  Lawyer's  share ; 
J  Or,  in  a  jointure,  vanish  from  the  heir ;  ^  170 

"^  Or  in  pure  equity  (the  case  not  clear) 

The  Chanc'ry  takes  your  rents  for  twenty  year : 
^    At  best,  it  falls  to  some  ungracious  son, 
V  Who  cries,  "My  father's  damn'd  and  all's  my  own." 

Shades,  that  to  Bacon  could  retreat  afford,^  175 

Become  the  portion  of  a  booby  Lord  ; 

And  Hemsley,  once  proud  Buckingham's  delight,^ 

Slides  to  a  Scriv'ner  or  a  city  Knight. 

Let  lands  and  houses  have  what  Lords  they  will, 

Let  Us  be  fix'd,  and  our  own  masters  still.  180 

establishment)  continued  in  ordinary  times  to  William,  and  he  gave  it  to  Lord  Albemarle,  who 

number  about  17,000  men;  but  even  its  virtual  sold  it  to  Mr.  Vernon.     Am.  Ed.] 

perpetuity  was  not  acknowledged;  and  as  late  3  Or,  in  a  jointure,  vanish  from  the  heir;] 

as  1732  Pulteney  declared  that  he  *  always  had  The  expression  well  describes  the  surprise  an 

been,  and  always  would  be,  against  a  standing  heir  must  be  in,  to  find  himself  excluded  by 

army  of  any  kind.'     See  Hallam,  Const.  His-  that  Instrument  which  was  made  to  secure  his 

tory,  chap,  xvi.]  succession.     For  Butler  humorously  defines  a 

1  From  Hom.  Od,  Bk.  xv.  v.  74.     Warton.  Jointure  to  be  the  act  whereby  Parents 

*  Well,  if  the  use  be  mine,  etc.]     In  a  letter  *  turn 

to  this  Mr.  Bethel,  of  March  20,  1743,  he  says.  Their  Children's  Tenants,  ere  they're  born.' 

"  My  Landlady,  Mrs.  Vernon,  being  dead,  this  Warburton. 

"Garden  and  House  are  offered   me  in   sale;  *  [Gorhambury,  near  St.  Alban's,  the  seat  of 

"  and,  I  believe  (together  with  the  cottages  on  Lord  Bacon,  was  at  the  time  of  his  disgrace  con- 

**  each  side  my  grass-plot  next  the  Thames)  will  veyed  by  him  to  his  quondam  secretary.  Sir  J. 

**  come  at  about  a  thousand  pounds.  If  I  thought  Meantys,  whose  heir  sold  it  to  Sir  Harbottle 

**  any  very  particular  friend  would  be  pleased  to  Grimston,  whose  grandson  left  it  to  his  nephew 

"  live  in  it  after  my  death  (for,  as  it  is,  it  serves  (Wm.  Lucklyn,  who  took  the  name  of  Grim- 

"  all  my  purposes  as  well  during  life)  I  would  ston),  whose  second  son  was  in  1719  created  Vis- 

"  purchase  it,"  &c.     Warburton.     [Pope  never  count  Grimston.     This  is  the  'booby  lord'  to 

carried   out   this   intention.]       [Mrs.   Vernon's  whom  Pope  refers.] 

estate  of  Twickenham  Park  had   formerly  be-  ^ proud  Btickifigham's  etc.]     Villiers  Duke 

longed  to  Robert,  Earl  of  Essex,  who  gave  it  to  of  Buckingham.     P.     The  estate  of  Helmsley 

Sir   Francis    Bacon,   who   in    turn   sold   it   for  was   purchased    [for   ;^9o,ooo]    by   Sir   Charles 

;^i8oo.      Thence,   says   Crocker,  it  came   into  Duncombe,  Lord  Mayor  in  1709,  who  changed 

Lord  Cardigan's  family,  who  sold  it  to  King  its  name  to  Duncombe  Park.     Carruthers. 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  5©r 

THE  FIRST  EPISTLE 

OF  THE 

FIRST  BOOK   OF   HORACE. 

EPISTLE   I. 

To  Lord  Bolingbroke.i 

[Horace's  Epistle  is  addressed  to  Maecenas;  and  explains  the  causes  why  he  had 
relinquished  lyrical  poetry  in  order  to  study  philosophy  as  an  eclectic  after  the  fashion 
of  Aristippus.  It  then  proceeds  to  show  that  true  happiness  depends  upon  virtue  and 
wisdom,  to  which  that  study  leads,  and  not  upon  the  external  comforts  of  life.] 

ST.  JOHN,  whose  love  indulged  my  labours  past, 
Matures  my  present,  and  shall  bound  my  last! 
Why  will  you  break  the  Sabbath  of  my  days  ?  ^ 
Now  sick  alike  of  Envy  and  of  Praise. 

Public  too  long,  ah  let  me  hide  my  Age!  5 

See,  Modest  Gibber  now  has  left  the  Stage :  ^ 
Our  GenVals  now,  retir'd  to  their  Estates, 
Hang  their  old- Trophies  o'er  the  Garden  gates,^ 
In  Life's  cool  Ev'ning  satiate  of  Applause, 
Nor  fond  of  bleeding,  ev'n  in  Brunswick's  cause.^  10 

A  Voice  there  is,  that  whispers  in  my  ear, 
('T  is  Reason's  voice,  which  sometimes  one  can  hear) 
"Friend  Pope!  be  prudent,  let  your  Muse  take  breath, 
"  And  never  gallop  Pegasus  to  death  ; 

"  Lest  stiff,  and  stately,  void  of  fire  or  force,  15 

"You  limp,  like  Blackmore  on  a  Lord  Mayor's  horse."* 

Farewell  then  Verse,  and  Love,  and  ev'ry  Toy, 
The  Rhymes  and  Rattles  of  the  Man  or  Boy ; 
What  right,  what  true,  what  fit  we  justly  call, 
Let  this  be  all  my  care  —  for  this  is  All :  20 

To  lay  this  harvest  up,  and  hoard  with  haste 
What  ev'ry  day  will  want,  and  most,  the  last. 

"^{QX.  x\.o\&\.o  Essay  on  Man,^^.\.'\  the    terms     are     synonymous.      Warburton. 

2  Sabbath  of  my  days?]  i.e.  The  49th  year,  [Hardly  always  so  in  Pope's  mouth.] 
the  age  of  the  Author.     Warburton.    [1738.]  ^  Yoti   limp,   like   Blackmore  on   a   Lord 

5  [Colley  Gibber  retired  from  the  stage  after  Mayor's  horse.]     The  fame  of  this  heavy  Poet, 

a  histrionic  career  of  more  than  40  years  in  1733;  however  problematical   elsewhere,  was  univer- 

but    returned   in   1734   and   did   not   make   his  sally  received  in  the  City  of  London.     His  ver- 

*  positively  last  appearance  '  till  1745.]  sification  is  here  exactly  described:  stiff,  and  not 

*  [Warburton  compares  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  strong;  stately  and  yet  dull,  like  the  sober  and 

IV.  v.  30.     Pope  is  said  by  Warton  to  allude  to  slow-paced  Animal  generally  employed  to  mount 

the  entrance  of  Lord   Peterborough's  Lawn  at  the  Lord  Mayor:  and  therefore  here  humorously 

Bevismount  near  Southampton.]  opposed  to  Pegasus.    P.     [Blackmore  was  City 

^  Ev'n    in    Brunswick's    cause.]      In    the  Physician.] 
former  Editions  it  was,  Britain's  cause.     But 


302  IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE, 

But  ask  not,  to  what  Doctors  I  apply? 
Sworn  to  no  Master,  of  no  Sect  am  I : 

As  drives  the  storm,  at  any  door  I  knock :  25 

And  house  with  Montaigne  now,  or  now  with  Locke.^ 
Sometimes  a  Patriot,  active  in  debate, 
Mix  with  the  World,  and  battle  for  the  State, 
Free  as  young  Lyttelton,  her  Cause  pursue, 
Still  true  to  Virtue,  and  as  warm  as  true :  ^  30 

Sometimes  with  Aristippus,^  or  St.  Paul, 
Indulge  my  candor,  and  grow  all  to  all ; 
Back  to  my  native  Moderation  slide. 
And  win  my  way  by  yielding  to  the  tide. 

Long,  as  to  him  who  works  for  debt,  the  day,  35 

Long  as  the  Night  to  her  whose  Love 's  away, 
Long  as  the  Year's  dull  circle  seems  to  run, 
When  the  brisk  Minor  p«.nts  for  twenty-one: 
So  slow  th'  unprofitable  moments  roll. 

That  lock  up  all  the  Functions  of  my  soul ;  40 

That  keep  me  from  myself;  and  still  delay 
Life's  instant  business  to  a  future  day  : 
That  task,  which  as  we  follow,  or  despise, 
The  eldest  is  a  fool,  the  youngest  wise ; 

Which  done,  the  poorest  can  no  wants  endure ;  *  45 

And  which  not  done,  the  richest  must  be  poor. 

Late  as  it  is,  I  put  myself  to  school. 
And  feel  some  comfort,  not  to  be  a  fool. 
Weak  tho'  I  am  of  limb,  and  short  of  sight. 
Far  from  a  Lynx,  and  not  a  Giant  quite  ;  50 

I  '11  do  what  Mead  ^  and  Cheselden  ^  advise, 
To  keep  these  limbs,  and  to  preserve  these  eyes. 
Not  to  go  back,  is  somewhat  to  advance. 
And  men  must  walk  at  least  before  they  dance. 

Say,  does  thy  blood  rebel,  thy  bosom  move  55 

With  wretched  AvVice,  or  as  wretched  Love  ? 

"^  And  house  with  Montaigne  now ^  and  now  res.     P.     There  is  an  impropriety  and  indeco- 

with  Locke.']  i.e.  Choose  either  an  active  or  a  rum,  in  joining  the  name  of  the  most  profligate 

co7itemplative  life,  as  is  most  fitted  to  the  season  parasite  of  the  Court  of  Dionysius  with  that  of 

and    circumstances.  —  For    he    regarded    these  an  apostle.     In  a  few  lines  before,  the  name  of 

Writers  as  the  best  Schools  to  form  a  man  for  Montaigne  is  not  sufficiently  contrasted  by  the 

the  world;  or  to  give  him  a  knowledge  of  him-  name  of  Locke.      Warton. 

self:    Montaigne  excelling  in   his  observations  *  can    no  wants    endure;]    i  e.    Can    want 

on  social  and  civil  life;  and  Locke,  in  develop-  nothing.     Badly  expressed.      IVarburton. 
ing  the  faculties,  and  explaining  the  operations  ^  [Mead  :  v.  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  iv.  v.  ic] 

of  the  human  mind.     IVarburton.     [Pope  ap-         ^  [In   answer  to   Swift's  enquiry  who  '  this 

pears  to  have  read  Locke  at  an  early  age;  and  Cheselden  was.  Pope  informed  him  that  C.  was 

to  have  recurred  to  him  in  his  later  and  equally  *  the  most  noted  and  most  deserving  man  in  the 

desultory  philosophical  studies.]  whole  profession  of  chirurgery  and  had  saved  the 

2  [George  Lord  Lyttelton,  author  of  the  Dia-  lives  of  thousands '  by  his  skill.     There  is  an 

logues  of  the  Dead,  besides  poems  (Pastorals)  amusing  letter  from  Pope  to  Cheselden  in  Ros- 

and  theological  and  historical  works,  was  a  cor-  coe's  Life  ad  ami.  1737;  speaking  of  the  cata- 

vespondent  of  Pope's.]  ract  to  which  v.  52  appears  to  allude.] 

8  Omnis  Aristippum  decuit  color,  et  status,  et 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  303 

Know,  there  are  Words,  and  Spells,  which  can  control 

Between  the  Fits  this  Fever  of  the  soul : 

Know,  there  are  Rhymes,  which  fresh  and  fresh  apply'd 

Will  cure  the  arrant'st  Puppy  of  his  Pride.  60 

Be  furious,  envious,  slothful,  mad,  or  drunk, 

Slave  to  a  Wife,  or  Vassal  to  a  Punk, 

A  Switz,  a  High-dutch,  or  a  Low-dutch  Bear ; 

All  that  we  ask  is  but  a  patient  Ear. 

'T  is  the  first  Virtue,  Vices  to  abhor ;  65 

And  the  first  Wisdom,  to  be  Fool  no  more. 
But  to  the  world  no  bugbear  is  so  great, 
As  want  of  figure,  and  a  small  Estate. 
To  either  India  see  the  Merchant  fly, 

Scar'd  at  the  spectre  of  pale  Poverty!  70 

See  him,  with  pains  of  body,  pangs  of  soul. 
Burn  through  the  Tropic,  freeze  beneath  the  Pole! 
Wilt  thou  do  nothing  for  a  nobler  end. 
Nothing,  to  make  Philosophy  thy  friend? 

To  stop  thy  foolish  views,  thy  long  desires,  75 

And  ease  thy  heart  of  all  that  it  admires? 

Here,  Wisdom  calls :  "  Seek  Virtue  first,  be  bold! 
"  As  Gold  to  Silver,  Virtue  is  to  Gold."  1 
There,  London's  voice  :  ^'  Get  Money,  Money  still! 
"And  then  let  Virtue  follow,  if  she  will."  80 

This,  this  the  saving  doctrine,  preached  to  all, 
From  low  St.  James's  up  to  high  St.  Paul  ;2 
From  him  whose  quills  stand  quiver'd  at  his  ear,^ 
To  him  who  notches  sticks  at  Westminster. ■* 

Barnard  in  spirit,  sense,  and  truth  abounds  ;  ^  85 

"  Pray  then,  what  wants  he?  "     Fourscore  thousand  pounds  ; 
A  Pension,  or  such  Harness  for  a  slave 
As  Bug  now  has,  and  Dorimant  would  have.® 
Barnard,  thou  art  a  Cit,  with  all  thy  worth  ; 
But  Bug  and  D*l,  their  Honours^  and  so  forth.  90 

Yet  ev'ry  child  another  song  will  sing : 
"  Virtue,  brave  boys !  \  is  Virtue  makes  a  King." 
True,  conscious  Honour  is  to  feel  no  sin, 
He  \s  arm'd  without  that  's  innocent  within ; 
Be  this  thy  Screen,  and  this  thy  wall  of  Brass  ;  "^  95 

Compar'd  to  this,  a  Minister's  an  Ass. 

And  say,  to  which  shall  our  applause  belong, 
This  new  Court  jargon,  or  the  good  old  song? 

1  [Warburton  points  that  this  line  gives  the  great  financial  authority  in  Walpole's  era.     He 

meaning  neither  of  Pope  nor  of  the  Horatian:  was  Lord  Mayor  in  1738.     Qi.  EpiL.to  Sat-Xy'viiX. 

'  Villus  est  auro  argentum,  virtutibus  aurum  ']  11.  v.  99.] 

-  [Referring  to  the  opposite  schools  of  theol-         «  [These  allusions  here  and  in  v.  112  remain 

ogy  in  favour  at  court  and  in  the  metropolitan  unexplained.]      [Bug^  is  stated  by  Croker  to  be 

Chapter.]  the  Duke  of  Kent,  Dlbrimant  {Bestia  in  original 

3  [i.e.  a  scrivener  with  his  pen  in  his  ear.]  draught)    old   Horace   Walpole,   and   D'l    the 

*  [i.e.  Exchequer  ^allies.     Warburton  '\  young  Earl  of  Deloraine.    Am.  Ed.^ 
^  [Sir  John  Barnard,  a  qviaker  who  joined  the         '  Hie  murus  aheneus  esto.    Hor, 
Church  of  England,  member  for  the  City  and  a 


304  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 

The  modern  language  of  corrupted  Peers, 

Or  what  was  spoke  at  Cressy  and  Poitiers  ?  100 

Who  counsels  best?  who  whispers,  *'Be  but  great, 

"With  Praise  or  Infamy  leave  that  to  fate ; 

"  Get  Place  and  Wealth,  if  possible,  with  grace ; 

"If  not,  by  any  means  get  Wealth  and  Place  —  " 

For  what  ?  to  have  a  Box  where  Eunuchs  sing,^  I05 

And  foremost  in  the  Circle  eye  a  King. 

Or  he,  who  bids  thee  face  with  steady  view  '^ 

Proud  Fortune,  and  look  shallow  Greatness  thro' :        > 

And,  while  he  bids  thee,  sets  th'  Example  too?  j 

If  such  a  doctrine,  in  St.  James's  air,  lio 

Shou'd  chance  to  make  the  well-drest  Rabble  stare ; 

If  honest  S*z  '^  take  scandal  at  a  Spark, 

That  less  admires  the  Palace  than  the  Park : 

Faith  I  shall  give  the  answer  Reynard  gave : 

"  I  cannot  like,  dread  Sir,  your  Royal  Cave :  I15 

"  Because  I  see,  by  all  the  tracks  about, 

"Full  many  a  Beast  goes  in,  but  none  come  out."' 

Adieu  to  Virtue,  if  you  're  once  a  Slave  : 

Send  her  to  Court,  you  send  her  to  her  grave. 

Well,  if  a  King  's  a  Lion,  at  the  least  I20 

The  People  are  a  many-headed  Beast : 
Can  they  direct  what  measures  to  pursue, 
Who  know  themselves  so  little  what  to  do? 
Alike  in  nothing  but  one  Lust  of  Gold, 

Just  half  the  land  would  buy,  and  half  be  sold  :  125 

Their  Country's  wealth  our  mightier  Misers  drain,* 
Or  cross,  to  plunder  Provinces,  the  Main ; 
The  rest,  some  farm  the  Poor-box,^  some  the  Pews ; 
Some  keep  Assemblies,  and  would  keep  the  Stews ; 
Some  with  fat  Bucks  on  childless  dotards  fawn ;  130 

Some  win  rich  Widows  by  their  Chine  and  Brawn ;' 
While  with  the  silent  growth  of  ten  per  cent. 
In  dirt  and  darkness,  hundreds  stink  content. 

Of  all  these  ways,  if  each  pursues  his  own, 
Satire  be  kind,  and  let  the  wretch  alone :  135 

But  shew  me  one  who  has  it  in  his  pow'r 
To  act  consistent  with  himself  an  hour. 
Sir  Job  sail'd  forth,  the  ev'ning  bright  and  still, 
"  No  place  on  earth  (he  cry'd)  like  Greenwich  hill!" 

1  [The  Italian  Opera,  with  singers  like  Sene-  Misers  drain,']  The  undertakers  for  advancing 
sino  and  Farinelli,  and  Cuzzoni  and  Faustina,  Loans  to  the  Public  on  the  funds.  Warbur- 
was  at  the  zenith  of  its  reputation  in  London  in    ton. 

the  reign  of  George  II.]  5  Alluding  most  probably  to  a  Society  calling 

2  [Augustus  Schutz,  who  held  court  offices  itself  the  'Charitable  Corporation;  '  by  which 
near  the  person  of  George  II.  both  before  and  thousands  were  cheated  and  ruined.  Bowles. 
after  his  accession  to  the  throne.     CarrutAers.]  [V.  Pope's  note  to  Morn/ Essays,  Ep.  in.  v.  loo.] 

3  Quia  me  vestigia  terrent  ^  Probably  satirising  Lord  Sydney  Beauclerck, 
Omnia  te  adversum  spectantia,  nulla  retrorsum.  fifth  son  of  the  Duke  of  St.  Albans,  a  handsome 
Hor.  [from  Aesop's  well-known  fable.]  fortune  hunter  who  finally  secured  Miss  Norris 

*  Their    Country's    wealth  our  mightier    and  ;^6o,ooo.     Courtho^e, 


h:^ 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  305 

Up  starts  a  Palace ;  lo,  th'  obedient  base  'j      140 

Slopes  at  its  foot,  the  woods  its  sides  embrace, 

The  silver  Thames  reflects  its  marble  face. 

Now  let  some  whimsy,  or  that  dev'l  within 

Which  guides  all  those  who  know  not  what  they  mean, 

But  give  the  Knight  (or  give  his  Lady)  spleen  ;  J      145 

"  Away,  away  !  take  all  your  scaffolds  down, 

"  For  Snug  's  the  word  :  My  dear!  we  '11  live  in  Town." 

At  am'rous  Flavio  is  the  stocking  thrown? 
That  very  night  he  longs  to  lie  alone. 

The  Fool,  whose  Wife  elopes  some  thrice  a  quarter,  150 

For  matrimonial  solace  dies  a  martyr. 
Did  ever  Proteus,  Merlin,  any  witch. 
Transform  themselves  so  strangely  as  the  Rich? 
Well,  but  the  Poor  —  The  Poor  have  the  same  itch ; 
They  change  their  weekly  Barber,  weekly  News,  155 

Prefer  a  new  Japanner  to  their  shoes. 
Discharge  their  Garrets,  move  their  beds,  and  run 
(They  know  not  whither)  in  a  Chaise  and  one ; 
They  hire  their  sculler,  and  when  once  aboard, 
Grow  sick,  and  damn  the  climate  —  like  a  Lord.  160 

You  laugh,  half  Beau,  half  Sloven  if  I  stand, 
My  wig  all  powder,  and  all  snufF  my  band ; 
You  laugh,  if  coat  and  breeches  strangely  vary, 
White  gloves,  and  linen  worthy  Lady  Mary! 
But  when  no  Prelate's  Lawn  with  hair-shirt  lin'd,  165 

Is  half  so  incoherent  as  my  Mind, 
When  (each  opinion  with  the  next  at  strife, 
One  ebb  and  flow  of  follies  all  my  life) 
I  plant,  root  up ;  I  build,  and  then  confound , 
Turn  round  to  square,  and  square  again  to  round;  170 

You  never  change  one  muscle  of  your  face. 
You  think  this  Madness  but  a  common  case, 
Nor  once  to  Chancery,  nor  to  Hale  ^  apply ; 
Yet  hang  your  lip,  to  see  a  Seam  awry! 

Careless  how  ill  I  with  myself  agree,  175 

Kind  to  my  dress,  my  figure,  not  to  Me. 
Is  this  my  Guide,  Philosopher,  and  Friend  ?2 
This,  he  who  loves  me,  and  who  ought  to  mend? 
Who  ought  to  make  me  (what  he  can,  or  none,) 
That  Man  divine  whom  Wisdom  calls  her  own ;  180 

Great  without  Title,  without  Fortune  bless'd ; 
Rich  ev'n  when  plundered,  honour'd  while  oppressed ; 
Lov'd  without  youth,  and  followed  without  pow'r; 
At  home,  tho'  exiPd ;  free,  tho'  in  the  Tower ; 
In  short,  that  reasoning,  high,  immortal  Thing,  185 

Just  less  than  Jove,  and  much  above  a  King, 
Nay,  half  in  heav'n  —  except  (what  's  mighty  odd) 
A  Fit  of  Vapours  clouds  this  Demi-God. 

1  Dr.  Hale,  of  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  a  physi-         2  [Xhe  titles  by  which  Pope  addresses  Boling' 
cian  employed  in  cases  of  insanity,  Carruthers,    broke  in  the  Essay  on  Man,  Ep.  iv.  v.  390.] 
X 


3o6  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

THE   SIXTH   EPISTLE 

OF  THE 

FIRST   BOOK   OF   HORACE. 
EPISTLE   VI. 

To   Mr.   MURRAY.l 

[Horace's  Epistle,  addressed  to  an  otherwise  unknown  Numicius,  is  designed  to 
prove  that  Virtue  is  the  sole  means  of  true  happiness.  The  celebrated  Nil  Admirari 
which  it  preaches  is  the  expression  of  the  doctrine  that  the  wonder  or  admiration  which 
leads  to  desire  destroys  the  peace  of  mind  essential  to  a  happy  condition.] 

"  IVJOT  to  admire,  is  all  the  Art  I  know,^ 
i  >l   "To make  men  happy,  and  to  keep  them  so." 

(Plain  truth,  dear  Murray,  needs  no  flowVs  of  speech, 

So  take  it  in  the  very  words  of  Creech.)^ 

This  Vault  of  Air,  this  congregated  Ball,  5 

Self-center'd  Sun,  and  Stars  that  rise  and  fall. 

There  are,  my  Friend!  whose  philosophic  eyes 

Look  thro',  and  trust  the  Ruler  with  his  skies, 

To  him  commit  the  hour,  the  day,  the  year. 

And  view  this  dreadful  All  without  a  fear.  10 

Admire  we  then  what  Earth's  low  entrails  hold,  "^ 

Arabian  shores,  or  Indian  seas  infold ;  > 

All  the  mad  trade  of  Fools  and  Slaves  for  Gold?  J 

Or  Popularity  ?  or  Stars  and  Strings  ? 

The  Mob's  applauses,  or  the  gifts  of  Kings?  15 

Say  with  what  eyes  we  ought  at  Courts  to  gaze, 

And  pay  the  Great  our  homage  of  Amaze? 

If  weak  the  pleasure  that  from  these  can  spring, 

The  fear  to  want  them  is  as  weak  a  thing : 

Whether  we  dread,  or  whether  we  desire,  20 

In  either  case,  believe  me,  we  admire ; 

Whether  we  joy  or  grieve,  the  same  the  curse,. 

1  [William  Murray  (a  younger  son  of  Lord  He  died  in  1793,  leaving  behind  him  a  lofty  repu- 

Stormont)  began  his  public  career  by  appearing  tation,  tempered  by  the  memory  of  the  humour 

at  the  Bar  of  the  House  of  Commons  as  one  of  for  which  he  is  praised  by  Pope.     Murray  had 

the  Counsel  for  the  British  American  merchants  originally  won  the  gratitude  of  the  latter  by  his 

aggrieved  by  the  Spaniards  in  1738,  just  after  defence  of  the  Essay  on  Man  from  the  attacks 

the  date  of  Pope's  Epistle.    He  became  Solicitor-  of  Crousaz.] 

General  in  Lord  Wilmington's  Cabinet  1742;  and  2  jjil  admirari  prope  res  est  una,  Numici, 
ultimately  rose  to  the  Chief  Justiceship  and  a  Solaque,  quae  possit  facere  et  servare  beatum. 
barony,  which  was  afterwards  raised  to  an  Earl-  Hor. 
dom.  It  was  he  who  gave  judgment  in  the  case  ^  Creech.^  From  whose  Translation  of  Hor- 
of  Wilkes,  who  presided  at  the  trial  of  Home  ace  the  two  first  lines  are  taken.  P.  [Richard 
Tooke,  and  who  lived  to  have  his  house  burnt  Creech,  whose  celebrated  translation  of  Lucre- 
over  his  head  by  the  *  Protestant '  rioters  of  1780.  tins  first  appeared  in  1682  (his  Piorace  in  1684).] 


IMITATIONS   OF  HORACIL,  307 

Surpris'd  at  better,  or  surprised  at  worse. 

Thus  good  or  bad,  to  one  extreme  betray 

Th'  unbalanced  Mind,  and  snatch  the  Man  away;  25 

For  Virtue's  self  may  too  much  zeal  be  had ; 

The  worst  of  Madmen  is  a  Saint  run  mad.^ 

Go  then,  and  if  you  can,  admire  the  state 
Of  beamfng  diamonds,  and  reflected  plate  ; 
Procure  a  Taste  to  double  the  surprise,  30 

And  gaze  on  Parian  Charms  with  learned  eyes : 
Be  struck  with  bright  Brocade,  or  Tyrian  Dye, 
Our  Birth-day  Nobles'  splendid  Livery. 
If  not  so  pleased,  at  Council-board  rejoice, 
To  see  their  Judgments  hang  upon  thy  Voice ;  35 

From  morn  to  night,  at  Senate,  Rolls,  and  Hall, 
Plead  much,  read  more,  dine  late,  or  not  at  all. 
But  wherefore  all  this  labour,  all  this  strife? 
For  Fame,  for  Riches,  for  a  noble  Wife? 

Shall  One  whom  Nature,  Learning,  Birth,  conspired  40 

To  form,  not  to  admire  but  be  admir'd, 
Sigh,  while  his  Chloe  blind  to  Wit  and  Worth 
Weds  the  rich  Dulness  of  some  Son  of  earth? 
Yet  Time  ennobles,  or  degrades  each  Line ; 
It  brightened  Craggs's^^  and  may  darken  thine  :  '  45 

And  what  is  Fame  ?  the  Meanest  have  their  Day, 
The  Greatest  can  but  blaze,  and  pass  away. 
Graced  as  thou  art,  with  all  the  PovvY  of  Words, 
So  known,  so  honoured,  at  the  House  of  Lords  :  ^ 
Conspicuous  Scene!  another  yet  is  nigh,  50 

(More  silent  far)  where  Kings  and  Poets  lie ; 
Where  Murray  (long  enough  his  Country's  pride) 
Shall  be  no  more  than  Tully,  or  than  Hyde  !  * 

Rack'd  with  Sciatics,  martyr'd  with  the  Stone, 
Will  any  mortal  let  himself  alone  ?  55 

See  Ward  by  batter'd  Beaux  invited  over, 
And  despVate  Misery  lays  hold  on  Dover. ^ 
The  case  is  easier  in  the  Mind's  disease ; 
There  ail  Men  may  be  cur'd,  whene'er  they  please. 
Would  ye  be  blest?  despise  low  Joys,  low  Gains  ;  "j  60 

Disdain  whatever  Cornbury  ^  disdains  ; 
Be  virtuous,  and  be  happy  for  your  pains. 

1  [Horace  merely  preaches  the  MijSei'  aycx.v  in  *  Persuasion  tips  his  tongue  whene'er  he  talks, 

his  lines:  And    he    has  chambers   in  the   King's   Bench 
Insani  sapiens  nomen  ferat,  aequus  iniqui,  walks.'] 

Ultra  quam  satis  est  virtutem  si  petat  ipsam.]  *  [The  great  Lord  Clarendon.] 

-  Craggss,\     (See  note  to  Epitaph  rv.)    His         ^  {^Ward  and  Dover:   celebrated  for  their 

father  had  been  in  a  low  situation;  but,  by  in-  quack  medicines.     Roscoe.'\ 

dustry  and  ability,  got  to  be  Postmaster-General  ^  [Lord   Cornbury,   known    as  Lord    Hyde  . 

and  agent  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  IVarton.  [though  he  died  before  his  father],  great-grand- 

^  [A  piece  of  bathos,  says  Mr.  Hayward,  thus  son  of  the  first  Lord  Clarendon,  a  young  Tory 

parodied  by  Cibber:  nobleman  of  literary  tastes,  to  whom  Boling- 

broke  addressed  his  Letters  on  History.     Of 


3o8  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 

But  art  thou  one,  whom  new  opinions  sway, 
One  who  believes  as  Tindal  ^  leads  the  way, 
Who  Virtue  and  a  Church  alike  disowns,  65 

Thinks  that  but  words,  and  this  but  brick  and  stones? 
Fly  then,  on  all  the  wings  of  wild  desire. 
Admire  whatever  the  maddest  can  admire. 
Is  Wealth  thy  passion?     Hence!  from  Pole  to  Pole, 
Where  winds  can  carry,  or  where  waves  can  roll,  70 

For  Indian  spices,  for  Peruvian  Gold, 
\  Prevent  the  greedy,  and  out-bid  the  bold  : 

t         Advance  thy  golden  Mountain  to  the  skies  ; 
On  the  broad  base  of  fifty  thousand  rise. 

Add  one  round  hundred,  and  (if  that 's  not  fair)  75 

Add  fifty  more,  and  bring  it  to  a  square. 
For,  mark  th'  advantage  ;  just  so  many  score 
Will  gain  a  Wife  with  half  as  many  more. 
Procure  her  Beauty,  make  that  beauty  chaste, 
And  then  such  Friends  —  as  cannot  fail  to  last.  80 

A  Man  of  wealth  is  dubbM  a  Man  of  worth,^ 
Venus  shall  give  him  Form,  and  Anstis  ^  Birth. 
(Believe  me,  many  a  German  Prince  is  worse, 
Who  proud  of  Pedigree,  is  poor  of  Purse.) 
His  Wealth  brave  Timon  gloriously  confounds ;  85 

Ask'd  for  a  groat,  he  gives  a  hundred  pounds ; 
Or  if  three  Ladies  like  a  luckless  Play,^ 
Takes  the  whole  House  upon  the  Poet's  Day. 
Now,  in  such  exigencies  not  to  need. 

Upon  my  word,  you  must  be  rich  indeed ;  *     90 

A  noble  superfluity  it  craves, 
Kot  for  yourself,  but  for  your  Fools  and  Knaves ; 
Something,  which  for  your  Honour  they  may  cheat, 
/And  which  it  much  becomes  you  to  forget. 
If  Wealth  alone  then  make  and  keep  us  blest,  95 

/    Still,  still  be  getting,  never,  never  rest. 
/  But  if  to  Pow'r  and  Place  your  passion  lie, 

/        If  in  the  Pomp  of  Life  consist  the  joy  ; 
/  Then  hire  a  Slave,  or  (if  you  will)  a  Lord 

To  do  the  Honours,  and  to  give  the  Word  ;  100 

Tell  at  your  Levee,  as  the  Crowds  approach. 
To  whom  to  nod,  whom  take  into  your  Coach, 
Whom  honour  with  your  hand  :  to  make  remarks. 
Who  rules  in  Cornwall,  or  who  rules  in  Berks : 


/ 


Lord  C,  says   Mr.  Macknight,  'even  Horace  City  Knighthoods,  where  wealth  and  worship  go 

Walpole  spoke  with  enthusiasm.'     He  died   in  together.     Warburton. 

1753.     Carruthers  points  out  that  he  refused  a  ^  Anstis,  whom   Pope   often   mentions,   was 

pension  obtained  for  him  by  his  brother-in-law,  Garter  King  of  Arms.     Boivles. 

Lord  Essex.]  *  Or  if  three  Ladies  like  a  luckless  Play,"] 

1  [Dr.   Matthew  Tindal,   author  of    Chris-  The   common    reader,   I   am   sensible,    will  be 

tianity  as  old  as  the  Creation.^  always  more  solicitous  about  the  names  of  these 

*  dubb'd  a  Man  of  worth,']     Alluding  to  the  three  Ladies,  the  unlucky  Play,  and  every  other 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  309 

"  This  may  be  troublesome,  is  near  the  Chair ;    •  105 

"  That  makes  three  members,  this  can  choose  a  May'r." 
Instructed  thus,  you  bow,  embrace,  protest, 
Adopt  him  Son,  or  Cousin  at  the  least. 
Then  turn  about,  and  laugh  at  your  own  Jest. 

Or  if  your  life  be  one  continued  Treat,  1 10 

If  to  live  well  means  nothing  but  to  eat ; 
Up,  up !  cries  Gluttony,  ^t  is  break  of  day, 
Go  drive  the  Deer,  and  drag  the  finny  prey ; 
With  hounds  and  horns  go  hunt  an  Appetite  — 
So  Russel  did,  but  could  not  eat  at  night,  II5 

Caird  happy  Dog!  the  Beggar  at  his  door, 
And  envy'd  Thirst  and  Hunger  to  the  Poor. 

Or  shall  we  ev'ry  Decency  confound, 
Thro'  Taverns,  Stews,  and  Bagnio's  take  our  round, 
Go  dine  with  Chartres,  in  each  Vice  out-do  1 20 

K — Ps  lewd  Cargo,  or  Ty — y's  Crew,^ 
From  Latian  Syrens,  French  Circean  Feasts, 
Return  well  travelled,  and  transformed  to  Beasts, 
Or  for  a  Titled  Punk,  or  foreign  Flame, 
Renounce  our  Country,  and  degrade  our  Name?  125 

If,  after  all,  we  must  with  Wilmot  ^  own, 
The  Cordial  Drop  of  Life  is  Love  alone, 
And  Swift  cry  wisely,  "Vive  la  Bagatelle!  "^ 
The  Man  that  loves  and  laughs,  must  sure  do  well. 
Adieu  —  if  this  advice  appear  the  worst,  130 

E'en  take  the  Counsel  which  I  gave  you  first : 
Or  better  Precepts  if  you  can  impart. 
Why  do,  I  '11  follow  them  with  all  my  heart. 


THE   FIRST   EPISTLE 

OF  THE 

SECOND   BOOK   OF   HORACE. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  Reflections  of  Horace,  and  the  Judgments  past  in  his  Epistle  to  Augustus, 
seem'd  so  seasonable  to  the  present  Times,  that  I  could  not  help  applying  them  to  the 
use  of  my  own  Country.  The  Author  thought  them  considerable  enough  to  address 
them  to  his  Prince  ;  whom  he  paints  with  all  the  great  and  good  qualities  of  a  Monarch, 

trifling  circumstance  that  attended  this  piece  of  to  ascertain  who  these  ladies  were,  and  what  the 

gallantry,  than  for  the  explanation  of  our  Au-  play  they  patronized.     It  was  once  said  to  be 

ihor's  sense,  or  the   illustration  of  his  poetry;  Yoxxn^s  Busiris.      Warton. 

even  where  he  is  most  moral  and  sublime.     But  ^  Lords  Kinnoul  and  Tyrawley,  two  ambas- 

had  it  been  in  Mr.  Pope's  purpose  to  indulge  so  sadors  noted  for  wild  immorality.    Carruihers. 

impertinent  a  curiosity,  he  had  sought  elsewhere  2  [Earl  of  Rochester.     See  note  on  p.  184.] 

for  a  commentator  on  his  writings.    Warburton.  ^  [Warburton,  with   sundry  unnecessary  re- 

Notwithstanding  this  remark  of  Dr.  Warburton,  marks,   quotes   the   following  dicta   of  Swift's 

I  have  taken  .some  pains,  though  indeed  in  vain,  latter  days:  '  I  choose  '  (says  he,  in  a  Letter  *o 


3IO  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 

upon  whom  the  Romans  depended  for  the  Increase  of  an  Absolute  Empire,  But  to 
make  the  Poem  entirely  Enghsh,  I  was  willing  to  add  one  or  two  of  those  which  con- 
tribute to  the  Happiness  of  a  Free  People,  and  are  more  consistent  with  the  Welfare  of 
our  Neighbours. 

This  Epistle  will  show  the  learned  World  to  have  fallen  into  Two  mistakes  :  one,  that 
Augustus  was  a  Patron  of  Poets  in  general ;  wheieas  he  not  only  prohibited  all  but  the 
Best  Writers  to  name  him,  but  recommended  that  Care  even  to  the  Civil  Magistrate : 
Admonebat  Prae tores,  ne  pater entur  No^nen  suum  obsolefieri,  etc.  The  other,  that  this 
Piece  was  only  2l  general  Discourse  of  Poetry  ;  whereas  it  was  an  Apology  for  the  Poets, 
in  order  to  render  Augustus  more  their  Patron.  Horace  here  pleads  the  Cause  of  his 
Cotemporaries,  first  against  the  Taste  of  the  Town,  whose  humour  it  was  to  magnify 
the  Authors  of  the  preceding  Age  ;  secondly  against  the  Court  and  Nobility,  who  encour- 
aged only  the  Writers  for  the  Theatre  ;  and  lastly  against  the  Emperor  himself,  who  had 
conceived  them  of  little  Use  to  the  Government.  He  shows  (by  a  View  of  the  Progress 
of  Learning,  and  the  Change  of  Taste  among  the  Romans)  that  the  Introduction  of  the 
Polite  Arts  of  Greece  had  given  the  Writers  of  his  Time  great  advantages  over  their  Pred- 
ecessors ;  that  their  Morals  were  much  improved,  and  the  Licence  of  those  ancient  Poets 
restrained  :  that  Satire  and  Comedy  were  become  more  just  and  useful ;  that  whatever 
extravagancies  were  left  on  the  Stage,  were  owing  to  the  ///  Taste  of  the  Nobility  ;  that 
Poets,  under  due  Regulations,  were  in  many  respects  useful  to  the  State,  and  concludes, 
that  it  was  upon  them  the  Emperor  himself  must  depend,  for  his  Fame  with  Posterity. 

We  may  farther  learn  from  this  Epistle,  that  Horace  made  his  Court  to  this  great 
Prince  by  writing  with  a  decent  Freedom  toward  him,  with  a  just  Contempt  of  his  low 
Flatterers,  and  with  a  manly  Regard  to  his  own  Character.     P. 

[The  bland  statements  of  the  above  Advertisement  will  not  deceive  the  reader  as  to 
the  ironical  character  of  Pope's  Epistle,  which  ranks  among  the  most  finished  of  his 
compositions.  According  to  Suetonius  (  Vita  Hor.)  the  origin  of  the  Horatian  Epistle 
(probably  written  only  a  year  or  two  before  the  poet's  death)  was  the  expression  by 
Augustus  of  a  desire  that  Horace  might  address  one  of  his  Epistles  to  the  Emperor 
himself.  No  such  wish,  we  may  feel  sure,  ever  suggested  itself  in  the  bosom  of  King 
Gforge  II.  Augustus  was  a  real  patron  of  literature,  and  in  particular  of  dramatic 
poetry.  Horace  accordingly  takes  occasion  to  examine  the  development  of  Roman 
literature  with  special  reference  to  this  branch  of  it;  and  after  dwelling  on  the  preju- 
dicial influence  of  the  prevalent  preference  for  the  older  poets,  to  show  the  evil  effects 
of  the  love  of  spectacle  upon  the  progress  of  the  Roman  drama.  He  concludes  by 
directing  the  attention  of  the  Emperor  to  the  non-dramatic,  and  particularly  the  epic 
poets,  and  while  recognising  the  grandeur  of  their  task  —  the  glorification  of  the  deeds 
of  heroes  like  Augustus  himself —  modestly  declares  his  own  incapacity  to  enter  their 
ranks. 

Pope  addresses  himself  to  a  monarch  who,  since  his  accession  to  the  throne  in  1727, 
had  done  nothing,  and  intended  to  do  nothing,  to  foster  a  literature  for  which,  notwith- 
standing his  intelligence,  he  lacked  sympathy.  The  opposition,  to  which  Pope  was 
attached  by  personal  friendships  rather  than  by  any  distinct  political  creed,  had  pre- 
tended to  found  high  hopes  in  this  respect,  as  in  all  others,  upon  George  Prince  of 
Wales,  when  he  was  on  bad  terms  with  his  father  and  the  Walpole  ministry.  But  he 
had  speedily  undeceived  them  as  to  the  real  object  of  their  hopes  ;■  and  '  Bob,  the  poet's 
foe  '  (as  Swift  nicknamed  Sir  Robert  Walpole) ,  remained  in  power.  The  slight  attempts 
on  the  part  of  Queen  Caroline  to  patronise  literature  and  literary  men  were  lost  in  the 
general  apathy,  amounting  almost  to  dislike,  with  which  both  were  regarded  by  King 
and  Minister. 

While  therefore  all  the  allusions  to  the  King  himself  must  be  understood  as  dis- 
tinctly ironical,  the  review  of  English  literature  which  they  introduce  is  only  addressed 
to  the  King  because  he  would  take  no  interest  in  it.  This  review  itself  contains  many 
criticisms  of  much  sagacity  and  acuteness;  it  will  be  found  that  upon  the  whole  Pope 
in  his  manhood  adhered  very  much  to  the  opinions  which  as  a  youth  he  had  expressed 
in  his  Essay  on  Criticism,  which  should  be  carefully  compared  with  the  present  Epistle. 
It  is  strange  to  find  Pope  charging  his  age  with  an  undue  preference  for  the  old  poets ; 
the  truth  being  that  the  period  of  a  renaissance  in  this  respect  had  hardly  yet  begun  in 
English  popular  taste.  The  observations  on  the  stage  are  fully  borne  out  by  contem- 
porary accounts ;  Pope  was  to  live  to  hail  the  appearance  of  Garrick  as  the  advent  of 
better  days.] 


IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE.  311 

.  EPISTLE   I. 

To  Augustus. 

/  TT  THILE  you,  great  Patron  of  Mankind !  sustain 
I     V  V    The  balanced  World,  and  open  all  the  Main ;  ^ 
'  Your  Country,  chief,  in  Arms  abroad  defend,^ 
At  home,  with  Morals,  Arts,  and  Laws  amend ; 
How  shall  the  Muse,  from  such  a  Monarch,  steal  5 

An  hour,  and  not  defraud  the  Pubhc  Weal? 

Edward  and  Henry,  now  the  Boast  of  Fame,^ 
And  virtuous  Alfred,  a  more  sacred  Name, 
After  a  Life  of  generous  Toils  endurM, 

The  Gaul  subdu'd,  or  Property  secur'd,  10 

Ambition  humbled,  mighty  Cities  storm'd, 
Or  Laws  establish'd,  and  the  world  reformed ; 
Closed  their  long  Glories,  with  a  sigh,  to  find 
Th'  unwilling  Gratitude  of  base  mankind! 
All  human  Virtue,  to  its  latest  breath,  15 

Finds  Envy  never  conquered  but  by  Death. 
The  great  Alcides,  ev'ry  Labour  past, 
Had  still  this  Monster  to  subdue  at  last. 
Sure  fate  of  all,  beneath  whose  rising  ray, 
Each  star  of  meaner  merit  fades  away!  20 

Oppressed  we  feel  the  beam  directly  beat, 
Those  Suns  of  Glory  please  not  till  they  set. 

To  thee,  the  World  its  present  homage  pays, 
The  Harvest  early,  but  mature  the  praise : 
Great  Friend  of  Liberty!  in  Kings  a  Name  25 

Above  all  Greek,  above  all  Roman  fame  :  ^ 
Whose  Word  is  Truth,  as  sacred  and  reverM, 
As  Heav'n^s  own  Oracles  from  Altars  heard. 
Wonder  of  Kings!  like  whom,  to  mortal  eyes 
None  e'er  has  risen,  and  none  e'er  shall  rise.  30 

Just  in  one  instance,  be  it  yet  confest 

Mr.  Pope)  '  my  Companions  amongst  those  of  the  King  was  so  liberal  as  to  leave  it  open  to 

the  least  consequence,  and  most  compliance:  I  the  Spaniards.     Bowles. 

read   the   most  trifling  Books  I  can  find :   and         2  [This  again  ironically  refers  to  the  general 

whenever  I  write,  it  is  upon   the  most  trifling  cry  for  war  after  a  long  period  of  peace.] 
subjects.'  And  again, '  I  love  La  B  agate  lie  h^tt^r         ^  [These  historical  parallels  or  antitheta,  sub- 

than  ever.     I  am  always  writing  bad  prose  or  stituted  by  Pope  for  Horace's   safer  names  of 

worse  verses,  either  of  rage   or   raillery,'   etc.  Romulus,  Bacchus  and  the  Dioscuri,  must  be 

And  again,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Gay:  *  My  rule  is,  taken  quantum  valeant.     The  close  of  Edward 

Vive  la  Bagatelle '\  III.'s   reign  offers   a  melancholy  proof  that  a 

1  At  this  time  (1737)  the  Spanish  depreda-  great  man  may  outlive  his  own  greatness;  and 

tions  at  sea  were  such,  that  there  was  an  uni-  Henry  V.   enjoyed  a  high  popularity  with  his 

versal  cry  that  the  British  flag  had  been  insulted,  subjects  to  the  day  of  his  death,  except  of  course 

and  the  English  braved  on  their  own  element,  with  the  Lollards.] 

*  Opening  sill  the  main '  therefore,  means  that        *  Te  nostris  ducibus,  te  Graiis  anteferendo. 

Hor. 


312  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

Your  People,  Sir,  are  partial  in  the  rest : 

Foes  to  all  living  worth  except  your  own, 

And  Advocates  for  folly  dead  and  gone. 

Authors,  like  coins,  grow  dear  as  they  grow  old ;  35 

It  is  the  rust  we  value,  not  the  gold. 

Chancery's  worst  ribaldry  is  learnM  by  rote,^ 

And  beastly  Skelton  Heads  of  Houses  quote:  ^ 

One  likes  no  language  but  the  Faery  Queen ; 

A  Scot  will  fight  for  Christ's  Kirk  o'  the  Green ;  •  40 

And  each  true  Briton  is  to  Ben  so  civil. 

He  swears  the  Muses  met  him  at  the  Devil.'* 

Tho'  justly  Greece  her  eldest  sons  admires, 
Why  should  not  We  be  wiser  than  our  sires? 
In  ev'ry  Public  virtue  we  excel ;  45 

We  build,  we  paint,  we  sing,  we  dance  as  well, 
And  learned  Athens  to  our  art  must  stoop, 
Could  she  behold  us  tumbling  thro'  a  hoop. 

If  Time  improve  our  Wit  as  well  as  Wine, 
Say  at  what  age  a  Poet  grows  divine.''  50 

Shall  we,  or  shall  we  not,  account  him  so, 
Who  died,  perhaps,  an  hundred  years  ago? 
End  all  dispute ;  and  fix  the  year  precise 
When  British  bards  begin  f  immortalize?^ 

"  Who  lasts  a  century  can  have  no  flaw,  55 

"  I  hold  that  Wit  a  Classic,  good  in  law." 

Suppose  he  wants  a  year,  will  you  compound? 
And  shall  we  deem  him  Ancient,  right  and  sound, 
Or  damn  to  all  eternity  at  once. 
At  ninety-nine,  a  Modern  and  a  Dunce?  60 

"  We  shall  not  quarrel  for  a  year  or  two ; 
"  By  courtesy  of  England,^  he  may  do." 

Then  by  the  rule  that  made  the  Horse-tail  bear,^ 
I  pluck  out  year  by  year,  as  hair  by  hair. 
And  melt  down  Ancients  like  a  heap  of  snow :  65 

While  you  to  measure  merits,  look  in  Stowe,^ 
And  estimating  authors  by  the  year, 
Bestow  a  Garland  only  on  a  Bier. 

1  [Particularly  when  modernised.]  *  met  htm  at  the  Devtl'\   The  Devil  Tavern, 

^  And  beastly  Skelton,  etc-l      Skelton,  Poet  where  Ben  Jonson  held  his  Poetical  Club.     P. 
Laureate  to   Hen.   VIII.   a   volume   of  whose         "  [i.e.  to  be  immortal,] 

verses    has    been    lately    reprinted,   consisting         ^  [*  Courtesy  of  England,'  a  legal  term  signi- 

almost  wholly  of  ribaldry,  obscenity,  and  scur-  fying   the   custom   by  which   a   widower  holds 

rilous  language.     P.     [John  Skelton  born  about  during  his  lifetime  the  lands  of  which  his  wife 

1460,  tutor  to  prince  Henry  (afterwards  K.  H.  was  seized  in  fee,  if  she  had  issue  by  him  born 

VIII.)  and  ultimately  Rector  of  Diss  in  Norfolk,  alive,] 

died  in  1529.    His  English  verse,  which  is  chiefly         ^  [The  reference  in  Horace  is  to  the  so-called 

satirical  and  in  part  directed  against  Wolsey,  is  Argurnentatio  Acervalis,  or  Sorites,  the  pur- 

by  no  means  entirely  what  Pope's  perfunctory  pose  of  which  is  to  show  that  relative  terms  of 

epithets  declare  it  to  be.]  measure  admit  of  no  precise  definition.] 

3  Christ's  Kirk  o'  the  Green ;'\     A  Ballad         ^  [Stowe's    Annals  of  England   appear  to 

made  by  a  King  of  Scotland.     P.     [James  I.]  have  been  first  published  in  1580.J 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 


313 


-A 


\' 


0^ 


Shakespear  ^  (whom  you  and  ev'ry  Play-house  bill 
Style  the  divine,  the  matchless,  what  you  will)  70 

For  gain,  not  glory,  wing'd  his  roving  flight, 
And  grew  Immortal  in  his  own  despite. 
Ben,  old  and  poor,  as  little  seem'd  to  heed 
The  Life  to  come,  in  ev'ry  Poef  s  Creed. 

Who  now  reads  Cowley?  if  he  pleases  yet,  75 

His  Moral  pleases,  not  his  pointed  wit ; 
Forget  his  Epic,  nay  Pindaric  Art;^ 
But  still  I  love  the  language  of  his  heart.^ 

"Yet  surely,  surely,  these  were  famous  men! 
"What  boy  but  hears  the  sayings  of  old  Ben?  80 

"  In  all  debates  where  Critics  bear  a  part,* 
"Not  one  but  nods,  and  talks  of  Jonson's  Art, 
"  Of  Shakespear's  Nature,  and  of  Cowley's  Wit ; 
"How  Beaumont's  judgment  checked  what  Fletcher ^  writ; 
"  How  Shadwell  ^  hasty,  Wycherley  "^  was  slow  ;  ^  85 

"But  for  the  Passions,  Southern ^  sure  and  Rowe.^^ 
'"  These,  only  these,  support  the  crowded  stage, 
"From  eldest  Heywood^^  down  to  Cibbers  age." 

All  this  may  be ;  the  People's  Voice  is  odd, 
It  is,  and  it  is  not,  the  voice  of  God.  90 

To  Gammer  Gurton  ^^  if  it  give  the  bays. 


*  Shakespear]  Shakespear  and  Ben  Jonson 
may  truly  be  said  not  much  to  have  thought  of 
this  Immortality,  the  one  in  many  pieces  com- 
posed in  haste  for  the  Stage;  the  other  in  his 
latter  works  in  general,  which  Dryden  call'd 
his  Dotages.     P. 

2  Pindaric  Art ;]  which  has  much  more 
merit  than  his  Epic,  but  very  unlike  the  Char- 
acter, as  well  as  Numbers  of  Pindar.    P. 

3  [Compare  p.  183.] 

*  /«  ail  debates,  etc.]  The  Poet  has  here  put 
the  bald  cant  of  women  and  boys  into  extreme 
fine  verse.  This  is  in  strict  imitation  of  his 
Original,  where  the  same  impertinent  and  gra- 
tuitous criticism  is  admirably  ridiculed, 

5  [This  common  assumption  should  in  its  turn 
be  checked  by  the  consideration  that  out  of  52 
plays  known  as  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  the 
former  can  only  be  proved  to  have  had  part 
in  17,  Beaumont,  though  ten  years  younger 
than  Fletcher,  published  plays  before  the 
latter] 

8  [Thomas  Shadwell,  poet-laureate,  the  origi- 
nal of  Dryden's  Mac  F/ecknoe.] 

7  1  Wycherley,  see  note  to  p.  20.] 

8  Shadtuell  hasty,  Wycherley  was  slow.] 
Nothing  was  less  true  than  this  particular:  But 
the  whole  paragraph  has  a  mixture  of  Irony,  and 
must  not  altogether  be  taken  for  Horace's  own 
Judgment,  only  the  common  Chat  of  the  pre- 


tenders to  Criticism;   in  some  things  right,  in 
others,  wrong;  as  he  tells  us  in  his  answer, 
Interdum  vulgus  rectum  videt:  estubipeccat. 

P. 

—  hasty  Shadwell  and  slow  Wycherley ^  is 
a  line  of  Wilmot,  Earl  of  Rochester:  the  sense 
of  which  seems  to  have  been  generally  mis- 
taken. It  gives  to  each  his  epithet,  not  to  design 
the  difference  of  their  talents,  but  the  number 
of  their  productions,      Warburton. 

»  [Thomas  Southern  (1660-1746),  the  author 
of  the  tragedy  of  Oroonoko.] 

10  [Rowe.     See  Epitaph  v.] 

11  [Of  John  Heywood's  *  Interludes,'  which 
form  a  transition  from  the  moral-plays  to  the 
regular  drama,  the  earliest  was  probably  written 
in  the  first  quarter  of  the  i6th  century.] 

12  Gammer  Gurton]  A  piece  of  very  low 
humour,  one  of  the  first  printed  Plays  in  Eng- 
lish, and  therefore  much  valued  by  some  Anti- 
quaries, P.  [Believed,  on  insufficient  evidence, 
to  have  been  written  by  Bishop  Still.  The  oldest 
extant  edition  of  this  play  is  dated  1575;  Udall's 
Ralph  Roister  Doister  (of  which  a  copy  was 
first  discovered  in  1818)  was  certainly  printed 
nine  years  previously;  and,  being  founded  on 
Plautus,  is  infinitely  superior  to  Gammer  Gur- 
tons  Needle,  although  the  latter  has  a  few 
touches  of  considerable  humour  and  contains  an 
excellent  drinking-song.] 


,cr 


314  IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE. 

And  yet  deny  the  Careless  Husband  ^  praise, 
Or  say  our  Fathers  never  broke  a  rule ; 
Why  then,  I  say,  the  Public  is  a  fool. 

But  let  them  own,  that  greater  P^aults  than  we  95 

They  had,  and  greater  Virtues,  I  '11  agree. 
Spenser  himself  affects  the  Obsolete,'^ 
And  Sidney's  verse  halts  ill  on  Roman  feet :  ^ 
Milton's  strong  pinion  now  not  Heav'n  can  bound, 
Now  Serpent-like,  in  prose  he  sweeps  the  ground,  loo 

In  Quibbles  Angel  and  Archangel  join, 
And  God  the  Father  turns  a  School-divine.^ 
f  Not  that  I  'd  lop  the  Beauties  from  his  book, 

\  yl\  Like  slashing  Bentley  with  his  desp'rate  hook,^ 

l  Or  damn  all  Shakespear,  like  th'  affected  Fool  105 

At  court,  who  hates  whate'er  he  read  at  school.^ 

But  for  the  Wits  of  either  Charles's  days,"^ 
The  Mob  of  Gentlemen  who  wrote  with  Ease ; 
Sprat,^  Carew%^  Sedley,^^  and  a  hundred  more, 
(Like  twinkling  stars  the  Miscellanies  o'er)  1 10 

'  One  Simile,  that  solitary  shines 
In  the  dry  desert  of  a  thousand  lines, 
^  ^^         I  Or  lengthen'd  Thought  that  gleams  through  many  a  page, 
A   ^         JHas  sanctify'd  whole  poems  for  an  age. 

\\  lose  my  patience,  and  I  own  it  too,  115 

When  works  are  censur'd,  not  as  bad  but  new ; 
While  if  our  Elders  break  all  reason's  laws, 
^  These  fools  demand  not  pardon,  but  Applause. ^^ 
/      On  Avon's  bank,  where  flow'rs  eternal  blow, 
\\K        If  I  but  ask,  if  any  weed  can  grow  ;  120 

^  One  Tragic  sentence  if  I  dare  deride 

Which  Betterton's  ^^  grave  action  dignify'd, 

1  [Gibber's  Careless  Husband,  in  which  the  treason  under  William  III.  He  was  one  of  the 
character  of  Lord  Foppington  is  taken  from  earliest  members  of  the  Royal  Society;  and  a 
Vanbrugh,  was  first  acted  in  1704;  and  kept  the     popular  writer  of  both  prose  and  verse,] 

stage  throughout  the  century.    Lady  Betty  Mo-  ^  [Thomas  Carew,  a  courtier  of  Charles  IL 

dish  is  a  character  in  this  comedy.]  and  a  charming  lyrical  poet,  died  in  1639.] 

2  [Compare  p.  179.]  '^^  [Sir  Charles  Sedley,  the  favourite  poet  of 

3  [In  Bk.  I.  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia  King  Charles  IL,  died  in  1701.    He  was  a  boon- 
are  specimens   of  his    English  hexameters  and  companion  of  the  Earl  of  Rochester.] 
pentameters  as  well  as  sapphics;  in  Bk.  11.  there  ^^  [Pope's  edition  of  Shakspere  was  published 
is  also  an  experiment  in  the  metre  of  Anacreon,  in  1725.     It  was  a  failure  as  a  speculation;  and 
by  no  means  unpleasant  in  its  effect.]  though   it   is   not  without   merits,  both   in   the 

*  [Paradise  Lost,  Bk.  iii.]  preface  (of  which  the  general  spirit  is  upon  the 

s  [Cf.  Epistle  to  Arbutkfiot,  v.  168.]  whole  creditable  to  Pope's  appreciation  of  Shak- 

6  An  indirect  satire  on  Lord  Hervey,  in  allu-  spere's  genius)  and  in  the  emendations  (fre- 
sion  to  certain  lines  in  his  Epistle  to  a  D.D.  quently  very  clever),  yet  it  deservedly  exposed 
from  a  nobleman  at  Hampton  Court.  Carru-  Pope  to  the  cavils  of  Theobald.  See  Introduc- 
thers.  tion  to  Dunciad.] 

7  [Cf.  Essay  on  Criticism,  vv.  715  f.]  12  [This  famous  actor  was  an  early  friend  of 

8  [Thomas  Sprat,  Bishop  of  Rochester;  who  Pope's,  a  copy  by  whose  hand  of  the  actor's 
read  James  II.'s  Declaration  in  Westminster  portrait  by  Knell'-r  still  exists  at  Lord  Mnns- 
Abbey  and  was  arrested  on   a  false  charge  of  field's   seat   at  Caen   Wood,   Hampsteacl.     An 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE.  315 

Or  well-mouth'd  Booth  ^  with  emphasis  proclaims, 

(Tho'  but,  perhaps,  a  muster-roll  of  Names) ^ 
^c-^  ^  How  will  our  Fathers  rise  up  in  a  rage,  125 

And  swear,  all  shame  is  lost  in  George's  Age! 

You  'd  think  no  Fools  disgraced  the  former  reign, 

Did  not  some  grave  Examples  yet  remain, 

Who  scorn  a  Lad  should  teach  his  father  skill, 

And,  having  once  been  wrong,  will  be  so  still.  130 

He,  who  to  seem  more  deep  than  you  or  I, 

Extols  old  Bards,  or  Merlin's  Prophecy, 

Mistake  him  not ;  he  envies,  not  admires, 

And  to  debase  the  Sons,  exalts  the  Sires. 

Had  ancient  times  conspir'd  to  disallow  I35 

What  then  was  new,  what  had  been  ancient  now? 

Or  what  remained,  so  worthy  to  be  read 

By  learned  Critics,  of  the  mighty  Dead? 

In  Days  of  Ease,  when  now  the  weary  Sword 

Was  sheath'd,  and  Ltixury  with  Charles  restored ;  140 

In  ev'ry  taste  of  foreign  Courts  improved, 

"All,  by  the  King's  Example,  liv'd  and  lov'd."^ 

Then  Peers  grew  proud  in  Horsemanship  f  excel,* 

Newmarket's  Glory  rose,  as  Britain's  fell  ;^ 

The  Soldier  breath'd  the  Gallantries  of  France,  145 

And  ev'ry  flow'ry  Courtier  writ  Romance. 

Then  Marble,  soften'd  into  life,  grew  warm  :^ 

And  yielding  Metal  flow'd  to  human  form : 

Lely  on  animated  Canvas  stole 

The  Sleepy  Eye,  that  spoke  the  melting  soul.''  1 50 

j  No  wonder  then,  when  all  was  Love  and  sport, 
kj^^  \  The  willing  Muses  were  debauch'd  at  Court : 

t   >    ^  On  each  enervate  string  they  taught  the  note  ^ 

account  of  his  famous  Benefit  in  April  7th,  1709,  of  Newcastle's  book  of  Horsemanship:  the 
will  be  found  in  the  Tatler.  His  '  grave  action'  Romance  of  Parthenzssa,  by  the  Earl  of  Or- 
was  probably  due  in  part  to  his  large  habit  of  rery,  and  most  of  the  French  Romances  trans- 
body  ;  yet  he  played  an  unusually  wide  range  lated  by  Persons  of  Quality.  P. 
of  characters,  and  according  to  Gibber  was  par-  ^  [Newmarket,  which  became  popular  with 
ticularly  great  in  Othello,  Hamlet,  Hotspur,  the  rise  of  horse-racing  under  James  I.,  was  a 
Macbeth  and  Brutus.  See  Leigh  Hunt's  The  favourite  resort  of  Charles  H.,  whose  palace 
To'wn.'l  there  still  stands.] 

1  [Barton  Booth  (who  died  in  1733)  was  an  ^  [The  two  most  eminent  sculptors  of  the 
actor  particularly  celebrated  for  the  excellence  Restoration  period  were  Gibber,  a  Dane,  and 
of  his  articulation.    He  was  the  original  Gato  in  Gibbons,  a  Dutchman.] 

Addison's  tragedy.     Gf.  v.  337.]  "^  [Sir  Peter   Lely,  by  birth  a  Westphalian, 

2  A  muster-roll  of  Naines'\  An  absurd  cus-  died  in  1680,  after  accumulating  a  large  fortune, 
tom  of  several  Actors,  to  pronounce  with  em-  Warton  compares  for  the  delightful  expression, 
phasis  the  mere  Proper  Nantes  of  Greeks  or  *  the  sleepy  eye,'  an  epigram  of  Antipater, 
Romans,  which  (as  they  call  it)  fill  the  mouth  *  which  it  is  not  probable  Pope  could  have 
of  the  Player.     P.     [Like  the  '  Bombomachides  seen.*] 

Clutomestoridysarchides '  of  Plautus.]  8  Qfi  each  enervate  string,  etc.]    The  Siege 

3  A  verse  of  the  Lord  Lansdown.     P.  of  Rhodes  by  Sir  William  Davenant,  the  first 
*  t'n     Horsemanship    t'  excel.   And    evry    Opera  sun^  in  England.     P.     [It  was  brought 

flowry  Courtier  writ  Romance.]     The  Duke    out  in  1656.J 


3i6  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

\   To  pant,  or  tremble  thro'  an  Eunuch's  throat. 

But  Britain,  changeful  as  a  Child  at  play,  155 

Now  calls  in  Princes,  and  now  turns  away. 
Now  Whig,  now  Tory,  what  we  lov'd  we  hate; 
Now  all  for  Pleasure,  now  for  Church  and  State ; 
Now  for  Prerogative,  and  now  for  Laws ; 
Effects  unhappy  from  a  Noble  Cause.  160 

Time  was,  a  sober  Englishman  would  knock 
His  servants  up,  and  rise  by  five  o'clock, 
Instruct  his  Family  in  ev'ry  rule. 
And  send  his  Wife  to  church,  his  Son  to  school. 
To  worship  like  his  Fathers,  was  his  care ;  165 

To  teach  their  frugal  Virtues  to  his  Heir ; 
To  prove,  that  Luxury  could  never  hold ; 
And  place,  on  good  Security,  his  Gold. 
/  '  Now  times  are  chang'd,  and  one  Poetic  Itch 

t  >A>  Has  seiz'd  the  Court  and  City,  poor  and  rich  :  170 

^'  Sons,  Sires,  and  Grandsires,  all  will  wear  the  bays, 

Our  Wives  read  Milton,  and  our  Daughters  Plays, 
To  Theatres,  and  to  Rehearsals  throng, 
And  all  our  Grace  at  table  is  a  Song. 

I,  who  so  oft  renounce  the  Muses,  lie,  175- 

Not  — 's  self  e'er  tells  more  Fibs  than  I ; 
When  sick  of  Muse,  our  follies  we  deplore, 
And  promise  our  best  Friends  to  rhyme  no  more ; 
We  wake  next  morning  in  a  raging  fit. 
And  call  for  pen  and  ink  to  show  our  Wit.  1 80 

He  serv'd  a  'Prenticeship,  who  sets  up  shop ; 
Ward  try'd  on  Puppies,  and  the  Poor,  his  Drop ;  ^ 
Ev'n  Radcliff 's  Doctors  travel  first  to  France, 
Nor  dare  to  practise  till  they  've  learn'd  to  dance. ^ 
Who  builds  a  Bridge  that  never  drove  a  pile?  185 

(Should  Ripley  ^  venture,  all  the  world  would  smile) 
But  those  who  cannot  write,  and  those  who  can. 
All  rhyme,  and  scrawl,  and  scribble,  to  a  man. 
Yet,  Sir,  reflect,  the  mischief  is  not  great ; 
^  These  Madmen  never  hurt  the  Church  or  State:  190 

K  •    P  Sometimes  the  Folly  benefits  Mankind  ; 
^  I  And  rarely  Av'rice  taints  the  tuneful  mind. 

*  Allow  him  but  his  plaything  of  a  Pen, 
^  He  ne'er  rebels,  or  plots,  like  other  men : 

Flight  of  Cashiers,^  or  Mobs,  he  '11  never  mind ;  195 

1  Ward.\  A  famous  Empiric,  whose  Pill  and  mission,  to  examine  the  produce  of  each  Coun- 
Drop  had  several  surprizing  effects,  and  were  try,  and  see  in  what  it  might  be  made  subservient 
one  of  the  principal  subjects  of  writing  and  con-  to  the  art  of  healing.  The  native  commodity  o{ 
versation  at  this  time.     P.  France  is  Dancing.     Scribl. 

2  Ev'^t  Radcliff' s  Doctors  travel  ffrst  to  ^  [Cf.  Pope's  note  to  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  iv. 
France^   Nor  dare  to  practise  till  they  've  v.  i8.] 

learn'd  to  dance. '\  By  no  means  an  insinuation  *  [Bowles  cites  Coxe's  Memoirs  of  Sir  R. 
as  if  these  travelling  Doctors  had  misspent  their  Walpole  for  an  account  of  the  flight  of  Knight, 
time.    Radcliff  had  sent  them  on  a  medicinal    the  cashier  of  the  South  Sea  Company.] 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 


317 


And  knows  no  losses  while  the  Muse  is  kind. 

To  cheat  a  Friend,  or  Ward,  he  leaves  to  Peter ;  ^ 

The  good  man  heaps  up  nothing  but  mere  metre, 

Enjoys  his  Garden  and  his  book  in  quiet ; 

And  then  —  a  perfect  Hermit  in  his  diet.  200 

Of  little  use  the  Man  you  may  suppose, 
Who  says  in  verse  what  others  say  in  prose ; 
Yet  let  me  show,  a  Poet  ^s  of  some  weight, 
And  (tho'  no  Soldier)  useful  to  the  State. ^ 
What  will  a  Child  learn  sooner  than  a  Song?  205 

What  better  teach  a  Foreigner  the  tongue? 
What 's  long  or  short,  each  accent  where  to  place, 
And  speak  in  public  with  some  sort  of  grace? 
I  scarce  can  think  him  such  a  worthless  thing, 
|Unless  he  praise  some  Monster  of  a  King ;  210 

Or  Virtue,  or  Religion  turn  to  sport. 
To  please  a  lewd  or  unbelieving  Court. 
Unhappy  Dryden!  —  In  all  Charles's  days, 
Roscommon  only  boasts  unspotted  bays  ;  ^ 
And  in  our  own  (excuse  some  Courtly  stains)^  215 

No  whiter  page  than  Addison  remains. 
He,  from  the  taste  obscene  reclaims  our  youth, 
And  sets  the  Passions  on  the  side  of  Truth, 
Forms  the  soft  bosom  with  the  gentlest  art, 
And  pours  each  human  Virtue  in  the  heart.  220 

Let  Ireland  tell  how  Wit  upheld  her  cause, 
Her  Trade  supported,  and  supplied  her  Laws ; 
And  leave  on  Swift  this  grateful  verse  engrav'd : 
*The  Rights  a  Court  attack'd,  a  Poet  sav'd.'^ 
Behold  the  hand  that  wrought  a  Nation's  cure,  225 


^  [Conjectured  by  Bowles  to  refer  to  the 
cheating  of  Mr.  George  Pitt,  in  the  management 
of  his  estates,  by  Peter  Walter.] 

^  And  {tho'  no  Soldier)]  Horace  had  not 
acquitted  himself  much  to  his  credit  in  this  ca- 
pacity {non  befte  relicta  parmuld)  in  the  battle 
of  Philippi.  It  is  manifest  he  alludes  to  himself, 
in  this  whole  account  of  a  Poet's  character;  but 
with  an  intermixture  of  irony:  Vivit  siliquis  et 
pane  secundo  has  a  relation  to  his  Epicurism; 
Os  tenerum  Pueri,  is  ridicule :  The  nobler  office 
of  a  Poet  follows,  Torquet  ab  obscoznis  —  Mox 
etiam  pectus  Rede  /acta  refert,  etc.  which  the 
Imitator  has  apply'd  where  he  thinks  it  more 
due  than  to  himself.  He  hopes  to  be  pardon'd, 
if,  as  he  is  sincerely  inclined  to  praise  what  de- 
serves to  be  praised,  he  arraigns  what  deserves 
to  be  arraigned,  in  the  210,  211,  and  212th 
Verses.     P. 

2  [V.  Essay  on  Criticism^  v.  726.] 

*  [Warburton  explains  this  as  specially  refer- 
ring to  the  opening  lines  of  Addison's  poem  To 


H.  R.  H.  the  Princess  of  Wales,  in  which  A. 
claims  merit  for  his  tragedy  of  Cato,  as  purposely 
written  to  oppose  the  schemes  of  a  faction,  after 
he  had  previously  assured  Pope  that  the  play 
was  composed  with  no  party  views.] 

^  [The  first  of  Swift's  pamphlets  in  defence 
of  the  independence  of  Irish  trade  was  published 
in  1720;  the  Drapier's  Letters  (written  to 
oppose  the  patent  of  coining  copper  halfpence 
to  be  current  in  Ireland,  granted  to  William 
Wood  through  the  influence  of  the  Duchess  of 
Kendal,  favourite  of  George  I.)  appeared  in 
1723.  Swift  thus  writes  to  Pope  (May  31st,  1737) , 
after  reading  the  above  tribute :  '  Your  admirers 
here,  I  mean  every  man  of  taste,  affect  to  be 
certain  that  the  profession  of  friendship  to  me 
will  not  suffer  you  to  be  thought  a  flatterer.  My 
happiness  is  that  you  are  too  far  engaged,  and 
in  spite  of  you  the  ages  to  come  will  celebrate 
me,  and  know  you  were  a  friend  who  loved  and 
esteemed  me,  although  I  died  the  object  of 
Court  and  Party  hatred.'] 


3i8  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

Stretch'd  to  relieve  the  Idiot  and  the  Poor,i 
Proud  Vice  to  brand,  or  injured  Worth  adorn, 
And  stretch  the  Ray  to  Ages  yet  unborn. 
Not  but  there  are,  who  merit  other  palms ; 
Hopkins  and  Sternhold  glad  the  heart  with  Psalms  '.^  230 

The  Boys  and  Girls  whom  charity  maintains, 
Implore  your  help  in  these  pathetic  strains : 
How  could  Devotion  touch  the  country  pews, 
Unless  the  Gods  bestowed  a  proper  Muse? 
Verse  cheers  their  leisure,  Verse  assists  their  work,  235 

Verse  prays  for  Peace,  or  sings  down  Pope  and  Turk. 
The  silenced  Preacher  yields  to  potent  strain, 
And  feels  that  grace  his  prayer  besought  in  vain ; 
The  blessing  thrills  thro'  all  the  labVing  throng, 
y'       And  Heav'n  is  won  by  Violence  of  Song,  240 

Our  rural  Ancestors,  with  little  blest. 
Patient  of  labour  when  the  end  was  rest, 
IndulgM  the  day  that  hous'd  their  annual  grain. 
With  feasts,  and  oiTVings,  and  a  thankful  strain : 
The  joy  their  wives,  their  sons,  and  servants  share,  245 

Ease  of  their  toil,  and  partners  of  their  care  : 
The  laugh,  the  jest,  attendants  on  the  bowl. 
Smoothed  ev'ry  brow,  and  open'd  ev'ry  soul : 
With  growing  years  the  pleasing  Licence  grew, 
And  Taunts  alternate  innocently  flew.  250 

But  Times  corrupt,  and  Nature,  ill-inclin'd. 
Product  the  point  that  left  a  sting  behind ; 
Till  friend  with  friend,  and  families  at  strife,  * 
Triumphant  Malice  rag'd  thro'  private  life. 
Who  felt  the  wrong,  or  fear'd  it,  took  th'  alarm,  255 

AppeaPd  to  Law,  and  Justice  lent  her  arm. 
At  length,  by  wholesome  dread  of  statutes  bound,* 
The  Poets  learn'd  to  please,  and  not  to  wound : 
Most  warp'd  to  Flatt'ry's  side ;  but  some,  more  nice, 
Preserved  the  freedom,  and  forbore  the  vice.  260 

j  Hence  Satire  rose,  that  just  the  medium  hit, 

11  '  And  heals  with  Morals  what  it  hurts  with  Wit. 

'  We  conquered  France,  but  felt  our  Captive's  charms ; 

Her  Arts  victorious  triumph'd  o'er  our  Arms ; 
Britain  to  soft  refinements  less  a  foe,  265 

Wit  grew  polite,  and  Numbers  learn'd  to  flow. 
Waller  was  smooth  ;  ^  but  Dryden  taught  to  join 

*  the  Idiot  and  the  Poor.]    A  foundation  for  published  as  a  complete  collection  in  1562.    The 

the  maintenance  of  Idiots,  and  a  Fund  for  assist-  germ  of  this  amusing  passage  will  be  found  in 

ing  the  Poor,  by  lending  small  sums  of  money  Pope's  letter  to  Swift  of  Oct.  15,  1725,] 
on  demand.     P.  '  [There  is  no  direct  historical   allusion  in 

2  [The  time-honoured  version  of  the  Psalms  this;    the  law  of  libel  was  still  very  indefinite 

by  Thomas  Sternhold,  a  courtier  of  King  Edward  even  in  Pope's  times.] 

VI,,  and  John  Hopkins,  a  Suffolk  schoolmaster,         *  Waller  was  smooth  ;]     Mr.  Waller,  about 

in  which  they  were  assisted  by  others,  was  first  this  time  with  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  Mr.  Godol* 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  319 

The  varying  verse,  the  full-resounding  line, 

The  long  majestic  March,  and  Energy  divine.* 

Tho'  still  some  traces  of  our  rustic  vein  270 

And  splay-foot  verse,  remained,  and  will  remaiji. 

Late,  very  latej^correctness  grew  our  care,        ^^^-^ 

When  the  tirM  Nation  breath'd  from  civil  war. 

Exact  Racine,  and  Corneille's  noble  fire, 

Show'd  us  that  France  had  something  to  admire.  275 

Not  but  the  Tragic  spirit  was  our  own, 

And  full  in  Shakespear,  fair  in  Otway  shone :  ^ 

But  Otway  faiPd  to  polish  or  refine. 

And  fluent  Shakespear  scarce  effac'd  a  line.* 

Ev'n  copious  Dry  den  wanted,  or  forgot,*  280 

The  last  and  greatest  Art,  the  Art  to  blot. 

Some  doubt,  if  equal  pains,  or  equal  fire 

The  humbler  Muse  of  Comedy  require. 

BuTHi  known  Images  of  life,  I  guess 

The  labour  greater,  as  th'  indulgence  less.  285 

Observe  how  seldom  ev'n  the  best  succeed : 

Tell  me  if  Congreve^s  Fools  are  Fools  indeed  P^ 

What  pert,  low  Dialogue  has  Farquhar  writ!  ^ 

How  Van  wants  grace,  who  never  wanted  wit!' 

The  stage  how  loosely  does  Astraea  tread, ^  290 

Who  fairly  puts  all  Characters  to  bed! 

And  idle  Cibber,  how  he  breaks  the  laws, 

To  make  poor  Pinky  eat  with  vast  applause!* 


phin,  and    others,  translated   the  Pompey  of  ^  [*  Another  fault  which  often  may  befal, 

Corneille;    and  the  more  correct  French  Poets  Is,  when  the  wit  of  some  great  poet  shall 

began  to  be  in  reputation.     P.  So  overflow,  that  is,  be  none  at  all 

1  [Cf.  Essay  on  Criticism,  vv.  358-384.]  That  ev'n  his  fools  speak  sense,  as  if  possessed, 

2  [Racine,  the  younger  of  the  two  great  French  And  each  by  inspiration  breaks  his  jest.' 
tragedians,  was   more  frequently  translated  by  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire,  Essay  on 
the  English  dramatists  of  the  Restoration  than  Poetry?^ 

Corneille;  although  Hallam  is  doubtless  right  in         ^  [George  Farquhar  (1678-1707),  the  author 

agreeing  with  Sir  Walter  Scott  that  the  unnat-  of  Sir  Harry  Wildair  and  the  Beaux'  Strat- 

ural  dialogue  which  prevailed  in   the  English  agem.'X 

tragedies  of  that  age  was  derived  from  baser         ^  [John  Vanbrugh  (1672-1726),  author  of  the 

models  than   these,  viz.    the   French  romances  Relapse,  and  architect  of  Blenheim.    His  come- 

referred  to  ante,  v.  145.     The  pathetic  Otway  dies,  though  offensive  on.  the  ground  mentioned 

(1651-1685)  was   indeed  among  the  translators  by  Pope,  are  perhaps  healthier  in  feeling  than 

and  adapters  of  Racine;    but  his  Venice  Pre-  those  of  any  of  his  contemporaries.] 

served  and  Orphan,  on  which  his  fame  rests,         ®  Astrcea'l     A  Name  taken   by  Mrs.  Behn, 

were,  as  dramatic  pieces,  original,]  Authoress  of  several   obscene  Plays,   etc.     P. 

3  [I  remember  the  players  often  mentioned  it  [Mrs.  Aphra  Behn  owed  her  popularity  not  only 
as  an  honour  to  S.,  that  in  his  writings,  what-  to  her  sins,  but  to  a  wonderful  knack  of  contriv- 
soever  he  penned,  he  never  blotted  out  a  line,  ing  ingenious  stage-situations  which  must  arouse 
My  answer  hath  been,  *  Would  he  had  blotted  the  envy  of  modern  sensational  playwrights, 
out  a  thousand.'     Ben  Jonson's  Discoveries. '\  Astrcea   is   the   title  of  a   French  romance  by 

*  Ev*n  copious  Dryden^  copious  aggravated  Honord  d'Urfe,  published  in  1610.] 
the  fault.     For  when  a  writer  has  great  stores,         ^  [Poor  Pinky  \s  the  popular  low  comedian, 

he  is  inexcusable  not  to  discharge  the  easy  task  William  Pinkethman,  ofwhose  face  some  writers, 

of  choosing  from  the  best.     Warburton.  according  to  Cibber,  made  a  livelihood;   and 


320  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

But  fill  their  purse,  our  Poet's  work  is  done, 

Alike  to  them,  by  Pathos  or  by  Pun.  295 

O  you !  whom  Vanity's  light  bark  conveys 
On  Fame's  mad  voyage  by  the  wind  of  praise, 
With  what  a  shifting  gale  your  course  you  ply, 
/  For  ever  sunk  too  low,  or  borne  too  high ! 

Who  pants  for  glory  finds  but  short  repose,  300 

A  breath  revives  him,  or  a  breath  o'erthrows. 
Farewell  the  stage!  if  just  as  thrives  the  play, 
The  silly  bard  grows  fat,  or  falls  away. 

There  still  remains,  to  mortify  a  Wit, 
The  many-headed  Monster  of  the  Pit :  305 

A  senseless,  worthless,  and  unhonour'd  crowd ; 
Who,  to  disturb  their  betters. mighty  proud, 
Clatt'ring  their  sticks  before  ten  lines  are  spoke, 
Call  for  the  Farce,  the  Bear,  or  the  Black-joke.^ 
/What  dear  delight  to  Britons  Farce  affords!  310 

I  Ever  the  taste  of  Mobs,  but  now  of  Lords ; 
(Taste,  that  eternal  wanderer,  which  flies 
From  heads  to  ears,  and  now  from  ears  to  eyes.)^ 
The  play  stands  still ;  damn  action  and  discourse, 
Back  fly  the  scenes,  and  enter  foot  and  horse ;  315 

Pageants  on  Pageants,  in  long  order  drawn. 
Peers,  Heralds,  Bishops,  Ermine,  Gold  and  Lawn ; 
The  Champion  too!  and,  to  complete  the  jest, 
Old  Edward's  Armour  beams  on  Cibber's  breast. ^ 
With  laughter  sure  Democritus  had  died,  320 

Had  he  beheld  an  Audience  gape  so  wide. 
Let  Bear  or  Elephant  be  e'er  so  white. 
The  people,  sure,  the  people  are  the  sight! 
Ah  luckless  Poet!  stretch  thy  lungs  and  roar. 
That  Bear  or  Elephant  shall  heed  thee  more ;  325 

While  all  its  throats  the  Gallery  extends, 
And  all  the  Thunder  of  the  Pit  ascends! 
Loud  as  the  Wolves,  on  Orcas'  stormy  steep,* 
Howl  to  the  roarings  of  the  Northern  deep. 
Such  is  the  shout,  the  long-applauding  note,  330 

concerning  whom  the  Tatler '  informs  posterity,'         ^  O/d  Edwa rd's  A  rntou r  beams  on  Cibher^s 

among  other  things,  that   '  he  devours  a  cold  breast.'\     The  Coronation  of  Henry  VIII.  and 

chicken  with  great  applause  '  (in  the  character  Queen  Anne  Boleyn,  in  which  the  Playhouses 

of  Harlequin).     See  Geneste's  History  of  the  vied  with  each  other  to  represent  all  the  pomp 

Stage,  ni.  pp.  136-9.]  of  a  Coronation.     In  this  noble  contention,  the 

1  [i.e.  the  black-pudding.]  Armour  of  one  of  the  Kings  of  England  was 

2  From  heads  to  ears,  and  now  from  ears  borrowed  from  the  Tower,  to  dress  the  Champion. 
to  eyes.]  From  Plays  to  Operas,  and  from  P.  [This  spectacle  was  brought  out  in  1727,  in 
Opcr2LS  to  Pantomimes.  Warbnrton.  [Pan-  consequence  of  the  coronation  of  George  II.,  and 
tomimes  were  brought   into   the   full   blaze  of  ran  for  40  nights.] 

public  favour  by  Rich,  manager  of  Covent  Gar-         *  Orcas"  stormy  steep.]    The  farthest  North- 
den,  in  1723;  and  Cibber,  at  Drury  Lane,  was  em   Promontory  of  Scotland,   opposite  to  the 
obliged  to  produce  the  same  kind  of  entertain-  Orcades.    P. 
ment  in  self-defence.] 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  321 

At  Quin's  ^  high  plume,  or  Oldfield's  2  petticoat ; 

Or  when  from  Court  a  birth-day  suit  bestow'd, 

Sinks  the  lost  Actor  in  the  tawdry  load. 

Booth  enters  —  hark!  the  Universal  peal! 

"But  has  he  spoken?"     Not  a  syllable.  '         335 

What  shook  the  stage,  and  made  the  People  stare? 

Cato's  long  Wig,  flow'r'd  gown,  and  lacquerM  chair.  \ 

Yet  lest  you  think  I  rally  more  than  teach,  ^^.a  '■ 

Or  praise  malignly  Arts  I  cannot  reach,  ^j^  '' 

Let  me  for  once  presume  f  instruct  ihe  times,        <y^      340 
To  know  the  Poet  from  the  Man  of  rhymes  :  ^ 

'T  is  he,  who  gives  my  breast  a  thousand  pains,         ^a^^""^ 
Can  make  me  feel  each  Passion  that  he  feigns ;        ^'-^  r^^^ 
^      Enrage,  composd,  with  more  than  magic  Art, 
/^        With  Pity,  and  with  Terror,  tear  my  heart ;  345 

And  snatch  me,  o'er  the  earth,  or  thro'  the  air, 
To  Thebes,  to  Athens,  when  he  will,  and  where. 

But  not  this  part  of  the  Poetic  state 
Alone,  deserves  the  favour  of  the  Great ; 
Think  of  those  Authors,  Sir,  who  would  rely  350 

More  on  a  Reader's  sense,  than  Gazer's  eye. 
Or  who  shall  wander  where  the  Muses  sing? 
Who  climb  their  mountain,  or  who  taste  their  spring? 
How  shall  we  fill  a  Library  with  Wit,^ 
When  Merlin's  Cave  is  half  unfurnish'd  yet?*  355 

My  Liege !  why  Writers  little  claim  your  thought, 
I  guess ;  and,  with  their  leave,  will  tell  the  fault : 
We  Poets  are  (upon  a  Poet's  word) 
Of  all  mankind,  the  creatures  most  absurd : 
The  season,  when  to  come,  and  when  to  go,  360 

To  sing,  or  cease  to  sing,  we  never  know ; 
And  if  we  will  recite  nine  hours  in  ten, 
You  lose  your  patience,  just  like  other  men. 
Then  too  we  hurt  ourselves,  when  to  defend 
A  single  verse,  we  quarrel  with  a  friend ;  365 

Repeat  unask'd ;  lament,  the  Wit's  too  fine 
For  vulgar  eyes,  and  point  out  ev'ry  line. 
But  most,  when  straining  with  too  weak  a  wing, 
We  needs  will  write  Epistles  to  the  King ; 
And  from  the  moment  we  oblige  the  town,  370 

Expect  a  place,  or  pension  from  the  Crown ; 
Or  dubb'd  Historians,  by  express  command, 
T'  enroll  your  Triumphs  o'er  the  seas  and  land,^ 

1  [The  famous  tragic  actor  whose  popularity  ^  a  Library\Munu5  Appoline  dignum.  The 
was  at  its  height  at  the  time  of  Garrick's  first  Palatine  Library  then  building  by  Augustus.  P. 
appearance.  See  the  celebrated  character  of  *  Merlin's  Cave]  A  Building  in  the  Royal 
him  in  Churchill's  Rosciad.     He  died  in  1766.]  Gardens  of  Richmond,  where  is  a  small,  but 

2  [Mrs.  Oldfield,  who  died  in  1730;  the  most  choice  Collection  of  Books.     P. 

popular  comic  actress  of  her  age.  J  6  [The  office  of  Historiographer  Royal  was 

frequently  united  to  that  of  Poet  Laureate.] 


322 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 


y 


s^- 


u^ 


Be  caird  to  Court  to  plan  some  work  divine, 

As  once  for  Louis,  Boileau  and  Racine.  375 

Yet  think,  great  Sir!  (so  many  Virtues  shown) 
Ah  think,  what  Poet  best  may  make  them  known? 
Or  choose  at  least  some  Minister  of  Grace, 
Fit  to  bestow  the  Laureate's  weighty  place. ^ 

Charles,  to  late  times  to  be  transmitted  fair,  380 

Assign'd  his  figure  to  Bernini's  care ;  '^ 
And  great  Nassau  ^  to  Kneller's  hand  decreed 
To  fix  him  graceful  on  the  bounding  Steed ; 
So  well  in  paint  and  stone  they  judg'd  of  merit : 
But  Kings  in  Wit  may  want  discerning  Spirit.  385 

The  Hero  William,  and  the  Martyr  Charles, 
One  knighted  Blackmore,  and  one  pensioned  Quarles;* 
Which  made  old  Ben,  and  surly  Dennis  swear, 
"No  Lord  's  anointed,  but  a  Russian  Bear." 

Not  with  such  majesty,  such  bold  relief,  390 

The  Forms  august,  of  King,  or  conquVing  Chief, 
E'er  sweird  on  marble ;  as  in  verse  have  shin'd 
(In  polish'd  verse)  the  Manners  and  the  Mind. 
/Oh !  could  I  mount  on  the  Maeonian  wing. 
Your  Arms,  your  Actions,  your  repose  to  sing!  395 

What  seas  you  traversed,  and  what  fields  you  fought! 
Your  Country's  Peace,  how  oft,  how  deeply  bought!  ^ 
How  barb'rous  rage  subsided  at  your  word, 
And  Nations  wonder'd  while  they  dropp'd  the  sword! 
How,  when  you  nodded,  o'er  the  land  and  deep,  40O 

Peace  stole  her  wing,  and  wrapt  the  world  in  sleep ; 
'Till  earth's  extremes  your  mediation  own, 
And  Asia's  Tyrants  trem.ble  at  your  Throne  — 
But  Verse,  alas!  your  Majesty  disdains  ; 

And  I  'm  not  us'd  to  Panegyric  strains :  405 

The  Zeal  of  Fools  offends  at  any  time, 
But  most  of  all,  the  Zeal  of  Fools  in  rhyme. 
Besides,  a  fate  attends  on  all  I  write, 
That  when  I  aim  at  praise,  they  say  I  bite. 
A  vile  Encomium  doubly  ridicules  :  410 

There's  nothing  blackens  like  the  ink  of  fools 
If  true,  a  woeful  likeness  ;  and  if  lies, 
"  Praise  undeserv'd  is  scandal  in  disguise  :  "^ 
Well  may  he  blush,  who  gives  it,  or  receives ; 


1  Warton  quotes  Johnson's  epigram  on   the 
laureateship  of  Colley  Gibber: 

*  Augustus  still  survives  in  Maro's  strain, 
And  Spenser's  verse  prolongs  Eliza's  reign; 
Great  George's  acts  let  tuneful  Gibber  sing; 
For  nature  formed  the  poet  for  the  king.* 

2  [The  Italian  sculptor,  Bernini,  whose  roc- 
coco  works  fill  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.] 

3  [King  William  III.] 

*  [Francis  Quarles,  the  author  of  the  Em- 


blems, died  in  1644.  Pope  has  done  this  Ingen- 
ious member  of  the  religious  section  of  the 
Fantastic  school  great  injustice  in  ranking  him 
on  a  level  with  Blackmore.] 

"  [Ironical  allusions  to  the  pacific  policy  of 
George  II. 's  minister  Walpole.] 

♦>  [From  an  anonymous  poem,  *  The  Cele« 
brated  Beauties,'  published  in  Tonson's  MisceU 
lany  in  1709.     Carruthers. 


IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE,  323 

And  when  I  flatter,  let  my  dirty  leaves  415 

(Like  Journals,  Odes,  and  such  forgotten  things 
As  Eusden,^  Philips,^  Settle,^  writ  of  Kings) 
Clothe  spice,  line  trunks,  or,  fluttVing  in  a  row, 
Befringe  the  rails  of  Bedlam  and  Soho. 


THE   SECOND   EPISTLE 

OF 

THE   SECOND   BOOK   OF    HORACE. 

Ludentis  speciem  dabit,  et  torquebitur.     HOR.  [v.  124.] 

[Horace's  Epistle  is  addressed  to  Julius  Florus,  an  officer  attached  to  the  person  ot 
Tiberius  in  a  military  expedition  abroad.  Pope's  Epistle,  which  like  the  Horatian 
treats  the  subject  chiefly  from  a  personal  point  of  view,  has  much  biographical  value.] 

DEAR  CoPnel,*  Cobham's  and  your  country^s  Friend! 
You  love  a  Verse,  take  such  as  I  can  send. 
A  Frenchman  comes,  presents  you  with  his  Boy, 
Bows  and  begins  —  '^  This  Lad,  Sir,  is  of  Blois  :  ^ 
*^  Observe  his  shape  how  clean!  his  locks  how  curPd!  5 

"My  only  son,  Pd  have  him  see  the  world : 
"  His  French  is  pure  ;  his  Voice  too  —  you  shall  hear. 
"  Sir,  he 's  your  slave,  for  twenty  pound  a  year. 
**  Mere  wax  as  yet,  you  fashion  him  with  ease, 
"  Your  Barber,  Cook,  UpholstVer,  what  you  please :  10 

"  A  perfect  genius  at  an  Opera-song  — 
"  To  say  too  much,  might  do  my  honour  wrong. 
"  Take  him  with  all  his  virtues,  on  my  word ; 
"  His  whole  ambition  was  to  serve  a  Lord  : 
"  But,  Sir,  to  you,  with  what  would  I  not  part?  1 5 

"Tho'  faith,  1  fear,  'twill  break  his  Mother's  heart. 
"  Once  (and  but  once)  I  caught  him  in  a  lie, 
"  And  then,  unwhipp'd,  he  had  the  grace  to  cry : 
"  The  fault  he  has  I  fairly  shall  reveal, 
"  (Could  you  overlook  but  that)  it  is  to  steal."  20 

If,  after  this,  you  took  the  graceless  lad. 
Could  you  complain,  my  Friend,  he  proved  so  bad.'^ 
Faith,  in  such  case,  if  you  should  prosecute, 

1  [Laurence  Eusden,  poet  laureate  under  English.  Warton.  [Courthope  says "  Warton 
Charles  II.     OS..  Dunciad,\.y.  104.]  must  be  wrong  altogether  or  in   part";    and 

2  [Ambrose  Philips,  among  other  offences,  suggests  Pope's  friend  James  Dormer,  Colonel 
perpetrated  an  Ode  in  honour  of  Walpole.]  of.  the  first  troop  of  Horse  Grenadier  Guards. 

s  [Elkanah  Settle,  the  city-poet  and  the  Doeg  Am.  Ed.l 

oi  Absalom  and  Ackitophel.']  ^  This  Lad,  Sir,  is  of  Blois :'\    A  Town  in 

*  Colonel  Cotterell,  of  Rousham  near  Oxford,  Beauce,  where  the  French  tongue  is  spoken  in 

the  descendant  of  Sir  Charles  Cotterell,  who,  at  great  purity.     Warburton. 
the  desire  of  Charles  I.,  translated  Davila  into 


324  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 

I  think  Sir  Godfrey  ^  should  decide  the  suit ; 

Who  sent  the  Thief  that  stole  the  Cash  away,  25 

And  punished  him  that  put  it  in  his  way. 

Consider  then,  and  judge  me  in  this  light  ; 
I  told  you  when  I  went,  I  could  not  write ; 
You  said  the  same,  and  are  you  discontent 
With  Laws,  to  which  you  gave  your  own  assent?  30 

Nay  worse,  to  ask  for  Verse  at  such  a  time! 
D'  ye  think  me  good  for  nothing  but  to  rhyme? 

In  Anna's  Wars,  a  Soldier  poor  and  old 
Had  dearly  earned  a  little  purse  of  gold ; 

Tir'd  with  a  tedious  march,  one  luckless  night,  35 

He  slept,  poor  dog!  and  lost  it,  to  a  doit. 
This  put  the  man  in  such  a  desp'rate  mind,  '^ 

Between  revenge,  and  grief,  and  hunger  join'd      \ 
Against  the  foe,  himself,  and  all  mankind,  J 

He  leaped  the  trenches,  scaPd  a  Castle-wall,  40 

Tore  down  a  Standard^  took  the  Fort  and  all. 
"  Prodigious  well ;  "  his  great  Commander  cry'd. 
Gave  him  much  praise,  and  some  reward  beside. 
Next  pleas'd  his  Excellence  a  town  to  batter : 
(Its  name  I  know  not,  and  its  no  great  matter)  45 

"Go  on,  my  Friend  (he  cry'd),  see  yonder  walls! 
"Advance  and  conquer!  go  where  glory  calls! 
"  More  honours,  more  rewards,  attend  the  brave." 
DonH  you  remember  what  reply  he  gave? 

"D'  ye  think  me,  noble  GenVal,  such  a  Sot?  50 

"  Let  him  take  Castles  who  has  ne'er  a  groat." 

Bred  up  at  home,  full  early  I  begun  ^ 
To  read  in  Greek  the  wrath  of  Peleus'  son. 
Besides,  my  Father  taught  me  from  a  lad, 
The  better  art  to  know  the  good  from  bad :  55 

(And  little  sure  imported  to  remove. 
To  hunt  for  Truth  in  Maudlin's  learned  grove. )8 
But  knottier  points  we  knew  not  half  so  well, 
Depriv'd  us  soon  of  our  paternal  Cell ; 

And  certain  Laws,^  by  suflf'rers  thought  unjust,  60 

Deny'd  all  posts  of  profit  or  of  trust : 
Hopes  after  hopes  of  pious  Papists  fail'd. 
While  mighty  William's  thund'ring  arm  prevailed. 
For  Right  Hereditary  tax'd  and  fin'd, 
He  stuck  to  poverty  with  peace  of  mind ;  65 

1  /  think  Sir  Godfrey]    An  eminent  Justice     [The    spelling    is    in   deference   to  academical 
of  Peace,  who  decided  much  in  the  manner  of     orthoepy.] 

Sancho    Pancha.      P.      Sir    Godfrey    Kneller.         ^  [The  penal  laws  against  the  Roman  Catho- 

Warb2irton.  lies,  temporarily  abolished  by  James  II. 's  ille- 

2  See  Introductory  Metnoir,  p.  ix.  f.  gal  Declaration  of  Indulgence,  came  into  force 

3  He  had  a  partiality  for  this  College  in  Ox-  again,  with  new  additions,  after  the  Revolution 
ford,  in  which  he   had   spent  many  agreeable  which  seated  William  III.  on  the  throne.] 
days   with    his    friend    Mr.   Digby.     Warton. 


IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE,  325 

And  me,  the  Muses  help'd  to  undergo  it ; 
Convict  a  Papist  he,  and  I  a  Poet. 
But  (thanks  to  Horner)^  since  I  live  and  thrive, 
Indebted  to  no  Prince  or  Peer  alive. 

Sure  I  should  want  the  care  of  ten  Monroes,^  70 

If  I  would  scribble,  rather  than  repose. 
•  Years  follow'ng  years,  steal  something  evVy  day, 
At  last  they  steal  us  from  ourselves  away ; 
In  one  our  Frolics,  one  Amusements  end, 
<y  In  one  a  Mistress  drops,  in  one  a  Friend :  75 

This  subtle  Thief  of  life,  this  paltry  Time, 
What  will  it  leave  me,  if  it  snatch  my  rhyme? 
If  ev'ry  wheel  of  that  unweary'd  Mill, 
That  turn'd  ten  thousand  verses,  now  stands  still? 

But  after  all,  what  would  you  have  me  do?  80 

When  out  of  twenty  I  can  please  not  two; 
When  this  Heroics  only  deigns  to  praise. 
Sharp  Satire  that,  and  that  Pindaric  lays  ? 
One  likes  the  Pheasant's  wing,  and  one  the  leg 
The  vulgar  boil,  the  learned  roast  an  ^gg ;  85 

Hard  task!  to  hit  the  palate  of  such  guests. 
When  Oldfield  loves,  what  Dartineuf  ^  detests. 

But  grant  I  may  relapse,  for  want  of  grace, 
Again  to  rhyme,  can  London  be  the  place? 
Who  there  his  Muse,  or  self,  or  soul  attends,  90 

In  crowds,  and  courts,  law,  business,  feasts,  and  friends? 
My  counsel  sends  to  execute  a  deed ; 
A  Poet  begs  me,  I  will  hear  him  read ; 
*In  Palace-yard  at  nine  you  '11  find  me  there  — ' 
'  At  ten  for  certain.  Sir,  in  Bloomsb'ry  square  — '  95 

*  Before  the  Lords  at  twelve  my  Cause  comes  on  — 

*  There  's  a  Rehearsal,  Sir,  exact  at  one. — ' 
"  Oh  but  a  Wit  can  study  in  the  streets, 
"And  raise  his  mind  above  the  mob  he  meets." 

Not  quite  so  well  however  as  one  ought ;  lOO 

A  hackney  coach  may  chance  to  spoil  a  thought ; 
And  then  a  nodding  beam,  or  pig  of  lead, 
God  knows,  may  hurt  the  very  ablest  head. 
Have  you  not  seen,  at  Guild-halPs  narrow  pass, 
Two  Aldermen  dispute  it  with  an  Ass?  105 

And  Peers  give  way,  exalted  as  they  are, 
Ev'n  to  their  own  S-r-v — nee  in  a  Car? 
Go,  lofty  Poet!  and  in  such  a  crowd. 
Sing  thy  sonorous  verse  —  but  not  aloud. 

Alas!  to  Grottos  and  to  Groves  we  run,  1 10 

To  ease  and  silence,  ev'ry  Muse's  son : 
Blackmore  himself,  for  any  grand  effort, 

^  \%tt.  Introductory  Memoir,  "p.  Tiix.y\\.'\  s  Oldfield — Dartineuf\     Two    celebrated 

^  Monroes^    Dr.  Monroe,  Physician  to  Bed-    Gluttons.     Warburton.     [Cf.  as  to  the  latter. 
Jam  Hospital.     P.  antey  Bk.  ii.  Sat.  i.  v.  46.J 


326  IMITAT/OIVS   OF  HORACE. 

Would  drink  and  doze  at  Tooting  or  Earrs-Court^ 

How  shall  I  rhyme  in  this  eternal  roar? 

How  match  the  bards  whom  none  e'er  match'd  before?         115 

The  Man,  who,  stretch'd  in  Isis'  calm  retreat, 

To  books  and  study  gives  sev'n  years  complete,^ 

See !  strewM  with  learned  dust,  his  night-cap  on, 

He  walks,  an  object  new  beneath  the  sun! 

The  boys  flock  round  him,  and  the  people  stare  :      ^  120 

So  stiff,  so  mute!  some  statue  you  would  swear, 

Stept  from  its  pedestal  to  take  the  air! 

And  here,  while  town,  and  court,  and  city  roars, 

With  mobs,  and  duns,  and  soldiers,  at  their  doors  ; 

Shall  I,  in  London,  act  this  idle  part?  125 

Composing  songs,  for  Fools  to  get  by  heart? 

The  Temple  late  two  brother  Sergeants  saw. 
Who  deemM  each  other  Oracles  of  Law  ; 
With  equal  talents,  these  congenial  souls. 

One  luird  th'  Exchequer,  and  one  stunnM  the  Rolls ;  130 

Each  had  a  gravity  would  make  you  split. 
And  shook  his  head  at  Murray,^  as  a  Wit. 
"'T  was.  Sir,  your  law"  —  and  "Sir,  your  eloquence — " 
"Yours,  Cowper's*  manner"  —  and  "yours,  Talbot's^  sense." 
Thus  we  dispose  of  all  poetic  merit,  135 

Yours  Milton's  genius,  and  mine  Homer's  spirit. 
Call  Tibbald  Shakespear,  and  he  '11  swear  the  Nine, 
Dear  Cibber!  never  match'd  one  Ode  of  thine. 
Lord!  how  we  strut  thro'  Merlin's  Cave,^  to  see 
No  Poets  there,  but  Stephen,"^  you,  and  me.  140 

Walk  with  respect  behind,  while  we  at  ease 
Weave  laurel  Crowns,  and  take  what  names  we  please. 
"  My  dear  Tibullus!  "  if  that  will  not  do, 
"  Let  me  be  Horace,  and  be  Ovid  you : 

"  Or,  I  'm  content,  allow  me  Dryden's  strains,  145 

"And  you  shall  rise  up  Otway  for  your  pains." 
Much  do  I  suffer,  much,  to  keep  in  peace 
This  jealous,  waspish,  wrong-head,  rhyming  race : 
And  much  must  flatter,  if  the  whim  should  bite 
To  court  applause  by  printing  what  I  write :  150 

But  let  the  Fit  pass  o'er,  I  'm  wise  enough, 
y      To  stop  my  ears  to  their  confounded  stuff. 
^  ^  ^     !     In  vain  bad  Rhymers  all  mankind  reject, 

^  Tooting-— Earrs-Court.]     Two    villages         f' [Charles,  Lord  Talbot,  Lord  Chancellor.] 
within  a  few  miles  of  London.     P.  gree.]  «  [Cf.  Pope's  note  to  Bk.  ii.  Ep.  i.  v.  355.] 

2  [The  term  for  completing  the  M.  A.  De-         "^  but  Stephefi\  Mr.  Stephen  Duck,  ^.v^od^st 

3  [Alluding  to  the  common  cant  of  that  time,  and  worthy  man,  who  had  the  honour  (which 
as  if  this  eminent  and  accomplished  person  was  many,  who  thought  themselves  his  betters  in 
more  of  a  polite  scholar  than  a  profound  lawyer,  poetry,  had  not)  of  being  esteemed  by  Mr. 
Warton.     Cf.  Bk.  i.  Ep.  vi.  anteP^  Pope.     Queen  Caroline  chose  this  man  for  her 

4  [William  first  Earl  Cowper,  lord  keeper  in  favourite  poet.      Warburton. 

1705,  and  one  of  the  lords  justices  on  the  death  ^ 

of  Queen  Anne.     Died  1723.] 


IMITATION'S   OF  HORACE.  yrj 

They  treat  themselves  with  most  profound  respect ; 
'T  is  to  small  purpose  that  you  hold  your  tongue :  155 

Each  prais'd  within,  is  happy  all  day  long ; 
But  how  severely  with  themselves  proceed 
The  men,  who  write  such  Verse  as  we  can  read? 
Their  own  strict  Judges,  not  a  word  they  spare 
That  wants  or  force,  or  light,  or  weight,  or  care,  160 

However  unwillingly  it  quits  its  place, 
Nay  tho^  at  Court  (perhaps)  it  may  find  grace : 
Such  they  '11  degrade ;  and  sometimes,  in  its  stead, 
In  downright  charity  revive  the  dead  ; 

Mark  where  a  bold  expressive  phrase  appears,  165 

Bright  thro'  the  rubbish  of  some  hundred  years ; 
Command  old  words  that  long  have  slept,  to  wake, 
Words,  that  wise  Bacon,  or  brave  Raleigh  spake  ;^ 
Or  bid  the  new  be  English,  ages  hence, 

(For  Use  will  farther  what  's  begot  by  Sense)  170 

Pour  the  full  tide  of  eloquence  along,  1 

Serenely  pure,  and  yet  divinely  strong,  K 

Rich  with  the  treasures  of  each  foreign  tongue  ;     J 
]  1         \  Prune  the  luxuriant,  the  uncouth  refine, 
j         I  But  show  no  mercy  to  an  empty  line  :  175 

i  Then  polish  all,  with  so  much  life  and  ease. 

You  think  't  is  Nature,  and  a  knack  to  please : 
"  But  ease  in  writing  flows  from  Art,  not  chance ; 
"As  those  move  easiest  who  have  learn'd  to  dance." ^ 

If  such  the  plague  and  pains  to  write  by  rule,  180 

Better  (say  I)  be  pleas'd,  and  play  the  fool ; 
Call,  if  you  will,  bad  rhyming  a  disease. 
It  gives  men  happiness,  or  leaves  them  ease. 
There  liv'd  in  Friino  Georgii  (they  record) 
A  worthy  member,  no  small  fool,  a  Lord ;  185 

Who,  tho'  the  House  was  up,  delighted  sate, 
Heard,  noted,  answer'd,  as  in  full  debate : 
In  all  but  this,  a  man  of  sober  life, 
.    Fond  of  his  Friend,  and  civil  to  his  Wife ; 

Not  quite  a  mad-man,  tho'  a  pasty  fell,^  190 

And  much  too  wise  to  walk  into  a  well. 

Him,  the  damn'd  Doctors  and  his  Friends  immur'd. 

They  bled,  they  cupp'd,  they  purg'd ;  in  short,  they  cur'd. 

Whereat  the  gentleman  began  to  stare  — 

1  [*  In   Bacon's  Essays  .  .  .  though  many  Aubrey  (cited  by  Warton)  to  have  been  accus- 

Latinized  words  are  introduced,  even  the  sole-  tomed  to  speak  in  a  broad  Devonshire  dialect.] 
cisms  are  English,  and  the  style  is,  in  all  prob-  2  [Slightly  altered  from  Essay  on  Criticism^ 

ability,  a  fair  picture  of  the  language  used  at  vv.  362,  3.] 

that  time  by  men  of  the  highest  culture,  in  the         ^  [(jf    Moral  Essays,  Ep.  ii.  v.  268.     The 

conversational  discussion  of  questions  of  prac-  original  story  of  this  sort  of  madness  is  traced 

tical    philosophy,   or  what    the    Germans   call  by  Warton  to  Aristotle  and  iElian ;  and  he  com- 

world-wisdom  J    Marsh,  Origin  and  History  pares  Boileau's  version  in  his  Fourth  Satire.] 
of  the  Eng.  Language.  —  Raleigh  is  said  by 


328  IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE. 

**My  Friends ?''  he  cry'd,  "p — x  take  you  for  your  care!        195 

That  from  a  Patriot  of  distinguish^  note, 

Have  bled  and  purg'd  me  to  a  simple  Vote." 

Well,  on  the  whole,  plain  Prose  must  be  my  fate : 

Wisdom  (curse  on  it)  will  come  soon  or  late. 

There  is  a  time  when  Poets  will  grow  dull :  200 

I  '11  e'en  leave  verses  to  the  boys  at  school : 

To  rules  of  Poetry  no  more  confin'd, 

I  learn  to  smooth  and  harmonize  my  Mind, 

Teach  ev'ry  thought  within  its  bounds  to  roll, 

And  keep  the  equal  measure  of  the  Soul.  205 

Soon  as  I  enter  at  my  country  door. 
My  mind  resumes  the  thread  it  dropt  before ; 
Thoughts  which  at  Hyde-park-corner  I  forgot, 
Meet  and  rejoin  me,  in  the  pensive  Grot. 

There  all  alone,  and  compliments  apart,  210 

I  ask  these  sober  questions  of  my  heart. 

If,  when  the  more  you  drink,  the  more  you  crave,^ 
You  tell  the  Doctor ;  when  the  more  you  have, 
The  more  you  want ;  why  not  with  equal  ease 
Confess  as  well  your  Folly,  as  Disease  .f*  215 

The  heart  resolves  this  matter  in  a  trice, 
^^  Men  only  feel  the  Smart,  but  not  the  Vice." 

When  golden  Angels  ^  cease  to  cure  the  Evil, 
You  give  all  royal  Witchcraft  to  the  Devil ; 
When  servile  Chaplains  cry,'^  that  birth  and  place  220 

Endue  a  Peer  with  honour,  truth,  and  grace. 
Look  in  that  breast,  most  dirty  D — !   be  fair. 
Say,  can  you  find  out  one  such  lodger  there? 
Yet  still,  not  heeding  what  your  heart  can  teach, 
You  go  to  church  to  hear  these  Flatt'rers  preach.  225 

Indeed,  could  wealth  bestow  or  wit  or  merit, 
A  grain  of  courage,  or  a  spark  of  spirit, 
The  wisest  man  might  blush,  I  must  agree. 
If  D*  *  *  lov'd  sixpence  more  than  he. 

If  there  be  truth  in  Law,  and  Use  can  give  230 

A  Property,  that  's  yours  on  which  you  live. 
Delightful  Abs-court,^  if  its  fields  afford 
Their  fruits  to  you,  confesses  you  its  lord : 
All  Worldly's  hens,  nay  partridge,^  sold  to  town : 
His  Ven'son  too,  a  guinea  makes  your  own :  235 

He  bought  at  thousands,  what  with  better  wit 

1  A  golden  coin,  given  as  a  fee  by  those  who  cation  of  Mr.,  afterwards  Bishop,  Kennet  to  the 
came  to  be  touched  by  the  royal  hand  for  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  to  whom  he  was  chaplain. 
Evil.  Wart07i.  [The  scrofula.  The  office  for  Bennet.  [This  explains  the  blanks  in  vv.  222 
the  healing  of  the  evil  was  originally  included  and  229.] 

in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer;    the  practice         ^  delightful  Abs-court^  A  farm  over-against 

was  kept  up  by  Charles  I.  and  Charles  II.,  and  Hampton-Court.      Warburton. 
was  renewed  by  the  Pretender.]  *  [A  plural;  as  grouse,  teal,  &c.] 

2  The  whole  of  this  passage  alludes  to  a  dedi- 


V  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE.  339 

You  purchase  as  you  want,  and  bit  by  bit ; 

Now,  or  long  since,  what  diff'rence  will  be  found  ? 

You  pay  a  penny,  and  he  paid  a  pound. 

Heathcote  ^  himself,  and  such  large-acred  men,  240 

Lords  of  fat  E'sham,  or  of  Lincoln  fen, 
Buy  every  stick  of  wood  that  lends  them  heat, 
Buy  every  Pullet  they  afford  to  eat. 
Yet  these  are  Wights,  who  fondly  call  their  own 
Half  that  the  Devi  overlooks  from  Lincoln  town.  245 

The  Laws  of  God,  as  well  as  of  the  land, 
Abhor,  a  Perpetuity  should  stand  : 
Estates  have  wings,  and  hang  in  Fortune's  pow'r 
Loose  on  the  point  of  evVy  wavling  hour, 
Ready,  by  force,  or  of  your  own  accord,  250 

By  sale,  at  least  by  death,  to  change  their  lord. 
Man?  dind /or  ever?  wretch!  what  wouldst  thou  have? 
Heir  urges  heir,  like  wave  impelling  wave. 
All  vast  possessions  (just  the  same  the  case 
Whether  you  call  them  Villa,  Park,  or  Chase)  255 

Alas,  my  Bathurst!  what  will  they  avail.? 
Join  Cots  wood  hills  to  Saperton's  fair  dale,^ 
Let  rising  Granaries  and  Temples  here. 
There  mingled  farms  and  pyramids  appear, 
Link  towns  to  towns  with  avenues  of  oak,  260 

Enclose  whole  downs  in  walls,  't  is  all  a  joke! 
Inexorable  Death  shall  level  all. 
And  trees,  and  stones,  and  farms,  and  farmer  fall. 

Gold,  Silver,  IvVy,  Vases  sculpturM  high, 
Paint,  Marble,  Gems,  and  robes  of  Persian  dye,  265 

There  are  who  have  not  —  and  thank  heav'n  there  are, 
Who,  if  they  have  not,  think  not  worth  their  care. 

Talk  what  you  will  of  Taste,  my  friend,  you  '11  find, 
Two  of  a  face,  as  soon  as  of  a  mind. 

Why,  of  two  brothers,  rich  and  restless  one  270 

Ploughs,  burns,  manures,  and  toils  from  sun  to  sun ; 
The  other  slights,  for  women,  sports,  and  wines, 
All  Townshend's  Turnips,^  and  all  Grosvenor's  *  mines : 
Why  one  like  Bu —  ^  with  pay  and  scorn  content. 
Bows  and  votes  on,  in  Court  and  Parliament ;  275 

One,  driv'n  by  strong  Benevolence  of  soul, 

1  [Sir  Gilbert  Heathcote;  cf.  Moral  Essays^  might  have  helped  his  political  opponents  the 
Ep.  III.  V.  loi.]  Tories  to  annoy  his  former  rival  Walpole.     It 

2  [Alluding  to  the  improvements  made  by  was  owing  to  him,  says  Lord  Stanhope,  that 
Lord   Bathurst  on  one  of  his   Gloucestershire  England,  and  more  especially  Norfolk,  owes  the 
■estates,  at  Daylingworth  near  Saperton  in  the  introduction  of  the  turnip  from  Germany.] 
Cotswold  country.]  *  [Sir  Thomas   Grosvenor  succeeded  to  his 

3  All  Toivnshend's  Turnips']  [Lord  Towns-  brother  Richard  in  1733.     They  were  the  ances- 
liend,  Secretary  of  State  to  George  the  First  and  tors  of  the  present  Marquess  of  Westminster.] 
Second,  resigned  office  in  1730,  and  patriotically  ^  [Bubb  Doddington,  the  Bubo  of  the  ivth 
■refrained  from  returning  to  public  life,  where  he  Ep.  of  the  Moral  E^says.1 


330  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE,  / 

Shall  fly,  like  Oglethorpe,^  from  pole  to  pole : 
Is-  known  alone  to  that  Directing  Pow'r, 
Who  forms  the  Genius  in  the  natal  hour ; 

That  God  of  Nature,  who,  within  us  still,  280 

Inclines  our  action,  not  constrains  our  will ; 
Various  of  temper,  as  of  face  or  frame, 
Each  individual :  His  great  End  the  same. 
Yes,  Sir,  how  small  soever  be  my  heap, 
A  part  I  will  enjoy,  as  well  as  keep.  285 

My  heir  may  sigh,  and  think  it  want  of  grace 
A  man  so  poor  would  live  without  a  place ; 
But  sure  no  statute  in  his  favour  says,^ 
How  free,  or  frugal,  I  shall  pass  my  days : 

I,  who  at  some  times  spend,  at  others  spare,  290 

Divided  between  carelessness  and  care. 
'T  is  one  thing  madly  to  disperse  my  store ; 
Another,  not  to  heed  to  treasure  more ; 
Glad,  like  a  Boy,  to  snatch  the  first  good  day, 
And  pleasM,  if  sordid  want  be  far  away.  295 

!      What  is  't  to  me  (a  passenger,  God  wot!) 
Whether  my  vessel  be  first-rate  or  not? 
The  Ship  itself  may  make  a  better  figure, 
But  I  that  sail,  am  neither  less  nor  bigger. 
I  neither  strut  with  evVy  favVing  breath,  300 

Nor  strive  with  all  the  tempest  in  my  teeth. 
In  powV,  wit,  figure,  virtue,  fortune,  placM 
Behind  the  foremost,  and  before  the  last. 

"  But  why  all  this  of  AvVice  ?     I  have  none." 
I  wish  you  joy.  Sir,  of  a  Tyrant  gone  ;  305 

But  does  no  other  lord  it  at  this  hour. 
As  wild  and  mad  :  the  Avarice  of  pow'r? 
Does  neither  Rage  inflame,  nor  Fear  appal? 
Not  the  black  fear  of  death,  that  saddens  all? 
With  terrors  round,  can  Reason  hold  her  throne,  310 

Despise  the  known,  nor  tremble  at  th'  unknown? 
Survey  both  worlds,  intrepid  and  entire. 
In  spite  of  witches,  devils,  dreams,  and  fire? 
Pleas'd  to  look  forward,  pleased  to  look  behind, 
And  count  each  birth-day  with  a  grateful  mind?  315 

Has  life  no  sourness,  drawn  so  near  its  end  ? 
Canst  thou  endure  a  foe,  forgive  a  friend? 

^fly*  ^^^^  Oglethorpe,']  Employed  in  settling  supposed  Jacobite  leanings  may  be  attributed 

the  Colony  of  Georgia.     P.  much  of  the  animosity  displayed  by  the  Whigs 

[James  Edward  Oglethorpe,  born  in  1698,  towards  him,  as  well  as  of  the  friendliness  sub- 
served under  Prince  Eugene  against  the  Turks,  sisting  between  him  and  Pope  and  Johnson.] 
settled  the  colony  of  Georgia,  held  a  command  ^  But  sure  no  statute]  Alluding  to  the  stat- 
during  the  year  1745,  and  in  consequence  of  a  utes  made  in  England  and  Ireland,  to  regulate 
difficulty  which  then  occurred  with  the  Duke  of  the  Succession  of  Papists,  etc.  Warburton. 
Cumberland  (though  Oglethorpe  was  acquitted  [A  statute  of  William  III.  which  was  happily  so 
by  a  court-martial)  remained  unemployed  ever  interpreted  by  the  Judges,  as  to  produce  much 
afterwards.     Mr.   Croker  observes   that  to   his  less  effect  than  its  authors  had  intended.] 


SATIRES   OF  DR.   DONNE    VERSIFIED.  331 

Has  age  but  melted  the  rough  parts  away, 
As  winter-fruits  grow  mild  ere  they  decay? 
Or  will  you  think,  my  friend,  your  business  done,  320 

When,  of  a  hundred  thorns,  you  pull  out  one? 
Learn  to  live  well,  or  fairly  make  your  will ; 
You  've  play'd,  and  lovM,  and  eat,  and  drank  your  fill : 
Walk  sober  oif ;  before  a  sprightlier  age 

Comes  tittVing  on,  and  shoves  you  from  the  stage :  325 

Leave  such  to  trifle  with  more  grace  and  ease, 
Whom  Folly  pleases,  and  whose  Follies  please. 

THE   SATIRES 

OF 

DR.   JOHN   DONNE, 

DEAN  OF  ST.  PAUL'S, 

VERSIFIED. 

*  Quid  vetat  et  nosmet  Luciti  scripta  legentes 
Quaerere,  num  illius,  num  rerum  dura  negarit 
Versiculos  natura  magis  factos,  et  euntes 
Mollius?'  HoR.  [i'rt/.  LX.  56-9]. 

[These  Satires,  as  Pope  informs  us  in  the  Advertisement  prefixed  to  the  Satires  and 
Epistles  of  Horace  Imitated  (ante,  p.  289),  were  'versified*  by  him  at  the  request  of 
Lords  Oxford  and  Shrewsbury,  and  therefore  in  the  main  belong  to  an  earlier  period 
of  his  career  than  the  Satires  among  which  they  were  afterwards  inserted.  He  called 
his  labour  '  versifying,*  says  Warburton,  because  indeed  Donne's  lines  '  have  nothing 
more  of  numbers  than  their  being  composed  of  a  certain  quantity  of  syllables '  —  a 
description  exaggerated,  but  not  untrue. 

John  Donne  was  born  in  1573,  and  died  in  1631 ;  but  though  he  wrote  most  of  his 
poetry  before  the  end  of  the  i6th  century,  none  of  it  was  published  till  late  in  the  reign 
of  James  I.  The  story  of  his  life  may  be  summed  up  as  that  of  a  popular  preacher 
under  pecuniary  difficulties,  which  only  towards  its  close  terminated  in  the  assurance 
of  a  competency  (he  died  as  Dean  of  St.  Paul's).  Donne  has  been,  in  deference  to 
Pope's  classification  of  poets,  regarded  as  the  father  of  the  metaphysical,  or  fantastic 
school  of  English  poets,  which  reached  its  height  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  His  poetry 
divides  itself  into  two  distinctly  marked  divisions  —  profane  and  religious.  The  former 
must  be  in  the  main  regarded  as  consisting  of  purely  intellectual  exercitations ;  nor 
should  the  man  be  rashly  confounded  with  the  writer,  or  the  Ovidian  looseness  of 
morals  which  he  affects  be  supposed  to  have  characterised  his  life.  His  Songs  are  full 
of  the  conceits  criticised  by  Dr.  Johnson ;  some  of  his  Epigrams  are  very  good ;  his 
Elegies  are  most  offensively  indecent ;  and  the  Progress  of  the  Soul  is  a  disgusting 
burlesque  on  the  Pythagorean  doctrine  of  metempsychosis.  The  Funeral  Elegies 
already  show  the  transition  to  sacred  poetry ;  and  it  is  on  these  and  the  Holy  Sonnets 
that  rests  Donne's  claim  to  be  called  a  metaphysical  poet. 

Yet  he  states  that  he  affected  the  metaphysics  in  his  Satires  and  amorous  verses  as 
well.  The  former  were  first  published,  with  the  rest  of  his  works,  in  1633.  In  Dry- 
den's  opinion,  quoted  by  Chalmers,  the  Satires  of  Donne,  even  if  translated  into  num- 
bers, would  yet  be  found  wanting  in  dignity  of  expression.  It  has  however  been 
doubted  whether  the  irregularity  of  Donne's  versification  in  the  Satires  was  wholly 
undesigned.     His  lyrical  poetry  is  fluent  and  easy ;  and  the  Satires  of  Hall,  which  pre- 


332 


SATIRES  OF  DR.   DONNE   VERSIFIED. 


h-. 


ceded  those  of  Donne  by  several  years,  show  a  comparative  mastery  over  the  heroic 
couplet  which  could  surely  have  been  compassed  by  the  later  Satirist.  Pope  has 
treated  Donne's  text  with  absolute  freedom.  Donne's  Third  Satire,  in  Warburton's 
opinion  '  the  noblest  work  not  only  of  this  but  perhaps  of  any  satiric  poet,'  was  '  ver- 
sified '  by  Parnell.] 

SATIRE   II. 

YES  ;  thank  my  stars!  as  early  as  I  knew 
This  Town,  I  had  the  sense  to  hate  it  too ; 
Yet  here ;  as  ev'n  in  Hell,  there  must  be  still 
One  Giant-Vice,  so  excellently  ill, 

That  all  beside,  one  pities,  not  abhors  ;  5 

As  who  knows  Sappho,  smiles  at  other  whores. 

I  grant  that  Poetry  's  ?.  crying  sin ; 
Jt  brought  (no  doubt)  th'  Excise  and  Army  ^  in : 
Catch'd  like  the  Plague,  or  Love,  the  Lord  knows  how, 
But  that  the  cure  i^  starving,  all  allow.  10 

Yet  like  the  Papist's,  is  the  Poet's  state,^ 
Poor  and  disarm'd,  and  hardly  worth  your  hate  ! 

Here  a  lean  Bard,  whose  wit  could  never  give 
Himself  a  dinner,  makes  an  Actor  live  : 

The  Thief  condemned,  in  law  already  dead,  1 5 

So  prompts,  and  saves  a  rogue  who  cannot  read. 
^hus,  as  the  pipes  of  some  carv'd  Organ  move, 
The  gilded  puppets  dance  and  mount  above. 
Heav'd  by  the  breath  th'  inspiring  bellows  blow : 
Th'  inspiring  bellows  lie  and  pant  below.  20 

One  sings  the  Fair ;  but  songs  no  longer  move ; 

0  rat  is  rhymed  to  death,  nor  maid  to  love : 
In  love's,  in  nature's  spite,  the  siege  they  hold, 
And  scorn  the  flesh,  the  dev'l,  and  all  but  gold. 

'These  write  to  Lords,  some  mean  reward  to  get,  25 

As  needy  beggars  sing  at  doors  for  meat. 
Those  write  because  all  write,  and  so  have  still 
Excuse  for  writing,  and  for  writing  ill. 

Wretched  indeed !  but  far  more  wretched  yet 
Is  he  who  makes  his  meal  on  others'  wit :  30 

'T  is  chang'd,  no  doubt,  from  what  it  was  before ; 
His  rank  digestion  makes  it  wit  no  more : 
Sense,  past  thro'  him,  no  longer  is  the  same ; 
For  food  digested  takes  another  name. 

1  pass  o'er  all  those  Confessors  and  Martyrs,  35 
yjWho  live  like  S—tt — n,^  or  who  die  like  Chartres, 
C  Out-cant  old  Esdras,  or  out-drink  his  heir, 

1  [i.e.  the  increased  excise  duties   (which  it         ^  [Qf^  /;;^,  of  Hor.  Bk.  ii.  Ep.  ii.  v.  68.] 
was  apprehended  would  become  a  general  ex-         ^  Sir  Robert   Sutton,  who  was  expelled  the 

else) ,  and  an  army  which  must  prove  a  standing  House  of  Commons  on  account  of  his  share  in 

one.     Cf.  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  ni.  v.   119,  and  the  frauds  of  the  company  called  the  Charitable 

Im.  of  Hor.  Bk.  n.  Sat.  11.  v.  160.     The  expres-  Corporation.     Carruthers, 
sions  are  substituted  for  *  dearth  and  Spaniards  * 
in  Donne.] 


\No 


< 


SATIRES   OF  DR.   DONNE   VERSIFIED,  333 

Out-usure  Jews,  or  Irishmen  out-swear ;  ^ 
Wicked  as  Pages,  who  in  early  years 

Act  sins  which  Prisca's  Confessor  '^  scarce  hears.  40 

Ev'n  those  I  pardon,  for  whose  sinful  sake  / — 

Schoolmen  new  tenements  in  hell  must  mak^^-    ^" 
Of  whose <5Lrangccrlrne3-no-can6nist  can  tell 
^   In  what  Commandment^s  large  contents  they  dwell. 

One,  one  man  only  breeds  my  just  offence  ;  45 

Whom  crimes  gave  wealth,  and  wealth  gave  Impudence: 
Time,  that  at  last  matures  a  clap  to  pox, 
Whose  gentle  progress  makes  a  calf  an  ox, 
And  brings  all  natural  events  to  pass, 

Hath  made  him  an  Attorney  of  an  Ass.  50 

No  young  divine,  new-benefic'd,  can  be 
More  pert,  more  proud,  more  positive  than  he 
What  further  could  I  wish  the  fop  to  do, 
But  turn  a  wit,  and  scribble  verses  too ; 

Pierce  the  soft  labyrinth  of  a  Lady's  ear  55 

With  rhymes  of  this /^r  cent,  and  l\i2X  per  year  f 
Or  court  a  Wife,  spread  out  his  wily  parts. 
Like  nets  or  lime-twigs,  for  rich  Widows'  hearts ; 
Call  himself  Barrister  to  ev'ry  wench. 

And  woo  in  language  of  the  Pleas  and  Bench?  60 

Language,  which  Boreas  might  to  Auster  hold 
More  rough  than  forty  Germans  when  they  scold.* 

Curs'd  be  the  wretch,  so  venal  and  so  vain : 
Paltry  and  proud,  as  drabs  in  Drury  Lane. 
'T  is  such  a  bounty  as  was  never  known,  65 

If  Peter  deigns  to  help  you  to  your  own  : 
What  thanks,  what  praise,  if  Peter  but  supplies, 
And  what  a  solemn  face  if  he  denies! 
Grave,  as  when  pris'ners  shake  the  head  and  swear 
'T  was  only  Suretyship  that  brought  'em  there.  70 

His  Office  keeps  your  Parchment  fates  entire. 
He  starves  with  cold  to  save  them  from  the  fire ; 
For  you  he  walks  the  streets  thro'  rain  or  dust, 
For  not  in  Chariots  Peter  puts  his  trust ; 

For  you  he  sweats  and  labours  at  the  laws,  75 

Takes  God  to  witness  he  affects  your  cause, 
And  lies  to  ev'ry  Lord  in  ev'ry  thing. 
Like  a  King's  Favourite  —  or  like  a  King. 
These  are  the  talents  that  adorn  them  all, 
From  wicked  Waters  ev'n  to  godly  *  *  *  80 

1  Out-swear  the  Letanie.     Donne.  *  Carruthers  suggests  the  name  of  Paul  Ben- 

3  [Accentuated  as  in  Donne.  ]  field,  a  financing  M.P.,  for  this  hiatus.]     [Lord 

3  [Donne's  fine  touch  of  satire  against  a  his-  Orrery  says  Paul  Foley,  son  of  Thomas   who 

toric  wrong —  made  a  vast  fortune  out  of  iron.     Paul  studied 

*  Than  when  winds  in  our  ruin'd  abbeys  roar,'  law.     Macaulay  says  **  his  morals  were  without 

is  exchanged  by  Pope  for  a  cheap  sneer  against  stain."    Ath.  £d.] 

a.  then  unpopular  nationality.] 


334  SATIRES  OF  DR.   DOIVNE    VERSIFIED. 

Not  more  of  Simony  beneath  black  gowns, 

Not  more  of  bastardy  in  heirs  to  Crowns,  ^' 

In'shilhngs  and  in  pence  at  first  they  deal ;  ^fiTiiwifiiin'     j 

And  steal  so  little,  few  perceive  they  steal;  ^ 

Till,  like  the  Sea,  they  compass  all  the  land,  85       \ 

From  Scot:;  to  Vvigki.,ixKj^.  Moimt  to  Dover  strand: 

And  when  rank  Widows  purchase  luscious  nights, 

Or  when  a  Duke  X.o  Jansen  punts  at  White's, 
r  Or  City-heir  in  mortgage  melts  away  ; 

i  Satan  himself  feels  far  less  joy  than  they.  90 

;  Piecemeal  they  win  this  acre  first,  then  that, 
]  Glean  on,  and  gather  up  the  whole  estate. 
""-Then  strongly  fencing  ill-got  wealth  by  law, 

Indentures,  Covenants,  Articles  they  draw. 

Large  as  the  fields  themselves,  and  larger  far  95 

Than  Civil  Codes,  with  all  their  Glosses,  are ; 

So  vast,  our  new  Divines,  we  must  confess, 

Are  Fathers  of  the  Church  for  writing  less. 

But  let  them  write  for  you,  each  rogue  impairs 

The  deeds,  and  dextVously  omits,  ses  heirs :  loo 

No  Commentator  can  more  slily  pass 

O'er  a  learn'd,  unintelligible  place ; 

Or,  in  quotation,  shrewd  Divines  leave  out 

Those  words,  that  would  against  them  clear  the  doubt. 

So  Luther  thought  the  Pater-noster  long,^  105 

When  doom'd^  to  say  his  beads  and  Even-song; 

But  having  cast  his  cowl,  and  left  those  laws. 

Adds  to  Christ's  pray'r,  the  Pow'r  and  Glory  clause. 
The  lands  are  bought ;  but  where  are  to  be  found 

Those  ancient  woods,  that  shaded  all  the  ground?  1 10 

We  see  no  new-built  palaces  aspire, 

No  kitchens  emulate  the  vestal  fire. 

Where  are  those  troops  of  Poor,  that  throng'd  of  yore 

The  good  old  landlord's  hospitable  door? 

Well,  I  could  wish,  that  still  in  lordly  domes  115 

Some  beasts  were  kilFd,  tho'  not  whole  hecatombs ; 

That  both  extremes  were  banish'd  from  their  walls, 

Carthusian  fasts,  and  fulsome  Bacchanals  ; 

And  all  mankind  might  that  just  Mean  observe, 

In  which  none  e'er  could  surfeit,  none  could  starve.  120 

These  as  good  works,  't  is  true,  we  all  allow ; 

But  oh!  these  works  are  not  in  fashion  now: 

Like  rich  old  wardrobes,  things  extremely  rare. 

Extremely  fine,  but  what  no  man  will  wear. 

1  [Pointless  here;  but  not  so  in  Donne.]  is  intitled,  M.  Lutherus  de  abbreviatione  Ora- 

2  About  this  time  of  his  life  Dr.  Donne  had  tionis  Dominzcce,  alluding  to  Luther's  omission 
a  strong  propensity  to  Popery,  which  appears  of  the  [spurious]  concluding  Doxology  in  his 
from  several  strokes  in  these  satires.  We  find  two  Catechisms;  which  shews  the  poet  was  fond 
amongst  his  works,  a  short  satirical  thing  called  of  a  joke.     Warburton. 

a  Catalogue  of  rare  books,  one  article  of  which         ^  [j.e.  as  an  Augustine  monk.] 


SATIRES  OF  DR.   DONNE    VERSIFIED,  335 

Thus  much  I  Ve  said,  I  trust,  without  offence;  125 

Let  no  Court  Sycophant  pervert  my  sense. 
Nor  sly  informer  watch  these  words  to  draw 
Within  the  reach  of  Treason,  or  the  Law. 


SATIRE   IV. 

WELL,  if  it  be  my  time  to  quit  the  stage, 
Adieu  to  all  the  follies  of  the  age! 
I  die  in  charity  with  fool  and  knave. 
Secure  of  peace  at  least  beyond  the  grave. 
I  Ve  had  my  Purgatory  here  betimes,  5 

And  paid  for  all  my  satires,  all  my  rhymes. 
The  Poet's  hell,  its  tortures,  fiends,  and  flames, 
To  this  were  trifles,  toys  and  empty  names. 

With  foolish  pride  my  heart  was  never  fir'd, 
Nor  the  vain  itch  t'  admire,  or  be  admirM ;  lO 

I  hop'd  for  no  commission  from  his  Grace ; 
I  bought  no  benefice,  I  begg'd  no  place ; 
Had  no  new  verses,  nor  new  suit  to  show ; 
Yet  went  to  Court!  —  the  Dev'l  would  have  it  so. 
But,  as  the  Fool  that  in  reforming  days  15 

Would  go  to  Mass  in  jest  (as  story  says) 
Could  not  but  think,  to  pay  his  fine  was  odd, 
Since  't  was  no  form'd  design  of  serving  God ; 
So  was  I  punish'd,  as  if  full  as  proud 

As  prone  to  ill,  as  negligent  of  good,  20 

As  deep  in  debt,  without  a  thought  to  pay,  *) 
As  vain,  as  idle,  and  as  false,  as  they  \ 

Who  live  at  Court,  for  going  once  that  way!  j 
Scarce  was  I  enter'd,  when,  behold!  there  came 
A  thing  which  Adam  had  been  pos'd  to  name ;  25 

Noah  had  refused  it  lodging  in  his  Ark, 
Where  all  the  Race  of  Reptiles  might  embark : 
A  verier  monster,  that  on  Afric's  shore 
The  sun  e'er  got,  or  slimy  Nilus  bore. 

Or  Sloane  ^  or  Woodward's  ^  wondrous  shelves  contain,      "    30 
Nay,  all  that  lying  Travellers  can  feign. 
The  watch  would  hardly  let  him  pass  at  noon, 
At  night,  would  swear  him  dropt  out  of  the  Moon. 
One  whom  the  mob,  when  next  we  find  or  make 
A  popish  plot,  shall  for  a  Jesuit  take,  35 

And  the  wise  Justice  starting  from  his  chair 
Cry  :  "  By  your  Priesthood  tell  me  what  you  are?  " 

Such  was  the  wight ;  th'  apparel  on  his  back 
Tho'  coarse,  was  rev'rend,  and  tho'  bare,  was  black : 

1  [Cf.  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  iv.  c.  lo.]  sity  of  Cambridge,  to  which  he  bequeathed  his 

*  [John  Woodward  (1665-1728)  the  founder    collections  ] 
of  the  professorship  of  Geology  in  the  Univer- 


336  SATIRES  OF  DR,  DONATE   VERSIFIED, 

The  suit,  if  by  the  fashion  one  might  guess,  40 

Was  velvet  in  the  youth  of  good  Queen  Bess, 

But  mere  tuff-taifety  what  now  remained ; 

So  Time,  that  changes  all  things,  had  ordain'd! 

Our  sons  shall  see  it  leisurely  decay, 

First  turn  plain  rash,  then  vanish  quite  away.  45 

This  thing  has  travell'd,  speaks  each  language  too, 
And  knows  what 's  fit  for  every  state  to  do ; 
Of  whose  best  phrase  and  courtly  accent  join'd. 
He  forms  one  tongue,  exotic  and  refin'd, 

Talkers  I  've  learn'd  to  bear ;  Motteux  ^  I  knew,  50 

Henley  2  himself  I  Ve  heard,  and  Budgel  ^  too. 
The  Doctor's  Wormwood  style,  the  Hash  of  tongues 
A  Pedant  makes,  the  storm  of  Gonson's^  lungs, 
The  whole  ArtilPry  of  the  terms  of  War, 

And  (all  those  plagues  in  one)  the  bawling  Bar:  55 

These  I  could  bear ;  but  not  a  rogue  so  civil. 
Whose  tongue  will  compliment  you  to  the  Devil. 
A  tongue,  that  can  cheat  widows,  cancel  scores, 
Make  Scots  speak  treason,  cozen  subtlest  whores, 
With  royal  Favourites  in  flattVy  vie,  60 

And  Oldmixon  and  Burnet  both  out-lie.^ 

He  spies  me  out,  I  whisper:  *  Gracious  God! 
What  sin  of  mine  could  merit  such  a  rod? 
That  all  the  shot  of  dulness  now  must  be 

From  this  thy  blunderbuss  discharged  on  me!'  65 

*'  Permit,"  (he  cries)  "  no  stranger  to  your  fame 
"  To  crave  your  sentiment,  if  —  's  your  name. 
^^  What  speech  esteem  you  most?"     *  The  King's,'' ^  said  I. 
"  But  the  best  words  /  "  —  *  O  Sir,  the  Dictionary? 
"  You  miss  my  aim  ;  I  mean  the  most  acute  70 

"  And  perfect  Speaker  /  "  — '  Onslow,"^  past  dispute.' 
"  But,  Sir,  of  writers  ?  "     '  Swift,  for  closer  style, 
^  But  Ho  *  *  y  ^  for  a  period  of  a  mile.' 
"  Why  yes,  't  is  granted,  these  indeed  may  pass : 
"  Good  common  linguists,  and  so  Panurge^  was ;  75 

"  Nay  troth  th'  Apostles  (tho^  perhaps  too  rough) 
"  Had  once  a  pretty  gift  of  Tongues  enough  : 
"Yet  these  were  all  poor  Gentlemen!     I  dare 
"  Affirm,  't  was  Travel  made  them  what  they  were."  ^^ 

*  [^Motteux.     V.  Dunciad,  ii.  v.  412.]  members  of  which  had  already  in  two  instances 

2  \^Henley.     V.  Dunciad^  iii.  v.  189  ff.]  filled  the  chair,  was  elected  Speaker  in  1728, 

3  [Budgei.     V.  Dunciady  11.  v.  397.]  and  occupied  the  post  for  33  years,  to  the  satis- 

*  [Sir  John  Gonson,  whose  portrait,  according    faction  of  both  parties  in  the  House.] 

to  Bowles,  is  introduced  into  Hogarth's  Har-  ^  [Bishop  Hoadley,  here  alluded  to  sarcasti- 

lot's  Progress,     v.  infra,  v.  256.]  cally  on  account  of  his  loyalty  to  the  House  of 

^  [Cf.  Ep.  to  Arbutknot,  v.  146.]  Hanover.] 

^  This  sneer,  said  the  ingenious  Mr.  Wilkes,  ^  [Vide  Rabelais.'] 

is  really  indecent.     Warton.     [The  phrase  *  the  ^^  [The  readers  of  recent  satirical  poetry  can 

King's  English '  is  not  founded  on  the  speech  of  hardly  fail  to  remember  Mr.  John  P.  Robinson's 

cither  of  the  first  two  Georges.]  opinion  of  the  shortcomings  of  the  Apostles.] 

'  [Arthur  Onslow,  sprung    from   a  family , 


SATIRES  OF  DR,  DONNE  VERSIFIED.  337 

Thus  others'  talents  having  nicely  shown,  80 

He  came  by  sure  transition  to  his  own : 
Till  I  cry'd  out :  ^  You  prove  yourself  so  able, 
^  Pity !  you  was  not  Druggerman  ^  at  Babel ; 

*  For  had  they  found  a  linguist  half  so  good, 

'  I  make  no  question  but  the  Tow'r  had  stood.'  85 

"Obliging  Sir!  for  Courts  you  sure  were  made: 
"Why  then  for  ever  bury'd  in  the  shade? 
"  Spirits  like  you,  should  see  and  should  be  seen, 
"  The  King  would  smile  on  you  —  at  least  the  Queen." 

*  Ah  gentle  Sir!  your  Courtiers  so  cajole  us  —  90 

*  But  Tully  has  it,  Nunquatn  minus  solus  :^ 
^  And  as  for  Courts,  forgive  me,  if  I  say 

*  No  lessons  now  are  taught  the  Spartan  way : 
^  Tho'  in  his  pictures  Lust  be  full  display'd, 

^Few  are  the  Converts  Aretine^  has  made  ;  95 

'  And  tho'  the  Court  show  Vice  exceeding  clear, 
^  None  should,  by  my  advice,  learn  Virtue  there.' 

At  this  entranced,  he  lifts  his  hands  and  eyes, 
Squeaks  like  a  high-stretch'd  lutestring,  and  replies : 
"Oh  'tis  the  sweetest  of  all  earthly  things  lOO 

"  To  gaze  on  Princes,  and  to  talk  of  Kings!" 
*Then,  happy  Man  who  shows  the  Tombs!'  said  I, 

*  He  dwells  amidst  the  royal  Family ; 

*  He  ev'ry  day,  from  King  to  King  can  walk, 

*  Of  all  our  Harries,  all  our  Edwards  talk,*  I05 
'  And  get  by  speaking  truth  of  monarchs  dead, 

^  What  few  can  of  the  living.  Ease  and  Bread.' 

"Lord,  Sir,  a  mere  Mechanic!  strangely  low, 

"  And  coarse  of  phrase,  —  your  English  all  are  so. 

"  How  elegant  your  Frenchmen?  "     ^Mine,  d'ye  mean?        no 

'  I  have  but  one,  I  hope  the  fellow 's  clean.' 

"Oh!     Sir,  politely  so!  nay,  let  me  die, 

"  Your  only  wearing  is  your  Padua-soy."  ^ 

^Not,  Sir,  my  only,  I  have  better  still, 

*And  this  you  see  is  but  my  dishabille — '  II5 

Wild  to  get  loose,  his  Patience  I  provoke. 

Mistake,  confound,  object  at  all  he  spoke. 

But  as  coarse  iron,  sharpened,  mangles  more, 

And  itch  most  hurts  when  anger'd  to  a  sore ; 

So  when  you  plague  a  fool,  't  is  still  the  curse,  120 

You  only  make  the  matter  worse  and  worse. 

He  past  it  o'er ;  affects  an  easy  smile 
At  all  my  peevishness,  and  turns  his  style. 

1  [Dragoman,  i.e.  interpreter.]  »  Alluding  to  the  infamous  sonnets  which  this 

2  [Cicero  {de  Officii's,  1.  ill.  c.  i)  quotes  from  [Florentine  author  of  the  age  of  Leo  X.]  com- 
Cato  major  the  saying  of  Scipio  Africanus  m. :  posed  to  accompany  some  designs  of  Giulio 
'  that  he  was  never  less  at  leisure,  than  when  at  Romano.     Warton. 

leisure;    and  never  less    alone,   than    when         -^  [' The  way  to  it  is  King  Street.'    Donne.] 
alffne.']  «  [Silk  of  Padua.    Am.  £d.] 

Z 


338  SATIRES   OF  DR.   DONNE   VERSIFIED, 

He  asks,  "  What  News  ?  "     I  tell  him  of  new  Plays, 
New  Eunuchs,  Harlequins,  and  Operas.  125 

*         jne  hears,  and  as  a  Still  with  simples  in  it 
\  '        \  Between  each  drop  it  gives,  stays  half  a  minute, 
V     V        I  Loth  to  enrich  me  with  too  quick  replies, 
^  I  By  little  and  by  little,  drops  his  lies. 

\  Mere  household  trash!  of  birth-nights,  balls,  and  shows,       130 
\More  than  ten  Holinsheds,  or  Halls,  or  Stowes.i 
when  the  Queen  frown'd,  or  smiPd,  he  knows ;  and  what 
A  subtle  Minister  may  make  of  that ; 
Who  sins  with  whom :  who  got  his  Pension  nig,^ 
Or  quickened  a  Reversion  by  a  drug ;  135 

Whose  place  is  quartered  out,  three  parts  in  four, 
And  whether  to  a  Bishop,  or  a  Whore ; 
Who  having  lost  his  credit,  pawn'd  his  rent. 
Is  therefore  fit  to  have  a  Government ; 

Who  in  the  secret,  deals  in  Stocks  secure,  140 

And  cheats  th'  unknowing  Widow  and  the  Poor ; 
Who  makes  a  Trust  or  Charity  a  Job, 
And  gets  an  Act  of  Parliament  to  rob  ; 
Why  Turnpikes  rise,  and  now  no  Cit  nor  clown 
Can  gratis  see  the  country,  or  the  town ;  145 

Shortly  no  lad  shall  chuck,  or  lady  vole,^ 
But  some  excising  Courtier  will  have  toll. 
He  tells  what  strumpet  places  sells  for  life. 
What  'Squire  his  lands,  what  citizen  his  Wife : 
And  last  (which  proves  him  wiser  still  than  all)  150 

What  Lady's  face  is  not  a  whited  wall. 

As  one  of  Woodward's  patients,^  sick,  and  sore, 
I  puke,  I  nauseate,  —  yet  he  thrusts  in  more : 
Trims  Europe's  balance,  tops  the  statesman's  part,^ 
And  talks  Gazettes  and  Post-boys  ^  o'er  by  heart.  155 

Like  a  big  wife  at  sight  of  loathsome  meat 
Ready  to  cast,  I  yawn,  I  sigh,  and  sweat. 
Then  as  a  licens'd  spy,  whom  nothing  can 
Silence  or  hurt,  he  libels  the  great  Man ; 

Swears  ev'ry  place  entail'd  for  years  to  come,  160 

In  sure  succession  to  the  day  of  doom  ; 
He  names  the  price  for  ev'ry  office  paid. 
And  says  our  wars  thrive  ill,  because  delay'd ; 
Nay  hints,  't  is  by  connivance  of  the  Court, 
That  Spain  robs  on,  and  Dunkirk  's"^  still  a  Port.  165 

*  [Tudor  chroniclers.]  *  Shows  Poland's  int'rest,  takes  the  Primate's 

*  [Quaere:  Snug  ?'\  part.*      War  ton. 

*  [i.e.  no  boy  shall  play  at  chuck-farthing;  ^  [a  newspaper.]    [The  London  Gazette,  the 
no  lady  win  the  vole  (all  the  tricks)  at  cards.]  first  English  newspaper,  was   started  in  1665. 

^  As  one  of  Woodivard's  patients^  AUud-  The   Post-boy,   Foreign  and   Domestic y   first 

ing  to  the  effects  of  his  use  of  oils  in  bilious  appeared  May  17,  1695.     Am.  Ed.] 

disorders.     Warburton.  "^  [Pope   could  apply  to  the  difficulties  with 

^  This  originally  stood  thus :  Spain  which  brought  about   war   in  1739   the 


SATIRES  OF  DR,   DONNE   VERSIFIED,  339 

Not  more  amazement  seizM  on  Circe's  guests 

To  see  themselves  fall  endlong  into  beasts, 

Than  mine,  to  find  a  subject  staid  and  wise 

Already  half  turn'd  traitor  by  surprise. 

I  felt  th'  infection  slide  from  him  to  me,  1 70 

As  in  the  pox,  some  give  it  to  get  free  ; 

And  quick  to  swallow  me,  methought  I  saw 

One  of  our  Giant  Statutes  ope  its  jaw. 

In  that  nice  moment,  as  another  Lie 
Stood  just  a-tilt,  the  Minister  came  by.  175 

To  him  he  flies,  and  bows,  and  bows  again, 
Then,  close  as  Umbra,^  joins  the  dirty  train, 
Not  Fannius'  '^  self  more  impudently  near, 
When  half  his  nose  is  in  his  Prince's  ear. 

I  quak'd  at  heart ;  and  still  afraid,  to  see  180 

All  the  Court  filPd  with  stranger  things  than  he. 
Ran  out  as  fast,  as  one  that  pays  his  bail 
And  dreads  more  actions,  hurries  from  a  jail. 

Bear  me,  some  God !  oh  quickly  bear  me  hence 
To  wholesome  Solitude,  the  nurse  of  sense  :  185 

Where  Contemplation  prunes  her  ruffled  wings,^ 
And  the  free  soul  looks  down  to  pity  Kings! 
There  sober  thought  pursu'd  th'  amusing  theme, 
Till  Fancy  colour'd  it,  and  form'd  a  Dream. 
A  Vision  hermits  can  to  Hell  transport,  190 

And  forc'd  ev'n  me  to  see  the  damn'd  at  Court. 
Not  Dante  dreaming  all  th'  infernal  state. 
Beheld  such  scenes  of  envy,  sin,  and  hate. 
Base  Fear  becomes  the  guilty,  not  the  free ; 
Suits  Tyrants,  Plunderers,  but  suits  not  me :  195 

Shall  I,  the  Terror  of  this  sinful  town, 
Care,  if  a  liv'ry'd  Lord  or  smile  or  frown? 
Who  cannot  flatter,  and  detest  who  can. 
Tremble  before  a  noble  Serving-man? 

O  my  fair  mistress.  Truth !  shall  I  quit  thee  2CX} 

For  huffing,  braggart,  puff'd  Nobility? 
Thou,  who  since  yesterday  hast  roU'd  o'er  all 
The  busy,  idle  blockheads  of  the  ball. 
Hast  thou,  oh  Sun !  beheld  an  emptier  fort, 
Than  such  as  swell  this  bladder  of  a  court  ?  205 

Now  pox  on  those  who  show  a  Court  in  wax  I  * 
It  ought  to  bring  all  courtiers  on  their  backs : 
Such  painted  puppets!  such  a  varnish'd  race 

reference   in  Donne  to   *  Spaniards  and  Dun-    by  Pope  from  Hughes's  Thought  in  a  Garden, 
kirkers,']  or  Mrs.  Chandler's  lines  on  Solitude^  quoted  by 

1  [Bubb    Doddington.]      [Courthope    says:     Wakefield.] 

"  One  Walter  Carey,"  Warden  of  the  Mint  and         *  Court  in  wax!']    A  famous   show  of  the 

later  Clerk  of  the  Privy  Council.    A  m.  Ed.]  Court  of  France,  in  Wax-work.     P.     [Donne 

2  [Lord  Hervey.]  alludes  to]   a  show  of  the  Italian  Gardens  in 
^  [From  Milton's  Comus;  but  possibly  taken  Wax-work,  in  the  time  of  King  James  I.     P. 


340  SATIRES  OF  DR.   DONNE   VERSIFIED, 

Of  hollow  gew-gaws,  only  dress  and  face! 

Such  waxen  noses,  stately  staring  things  —  2io 

No  wonder  some  folks  bow,  and  think  them  Kings. 

See!  where  the  British  youth,  engaged  no  more 
At  Fig's,  at  White's,  with  felons,^  or  a  whore, 
Pay  their  last  duty  to  the  Court,  and  come 
All  fresh  and  fragrant,  to  the  drawing-room ;  215 

In  hues  as  gay,  and  odours  as  divine, 
As  the  fair  fields  they  sold  to  look  so  fine. 
"  That 's  velvet  for  a  King! "  the  flattVer  swears ; 
'T  is  true,  for  ten  days  hence  't  will  be  King  Lear's. 
Our  Court  may  justly  to  our  stage  give  rules,^  220 

That  helps  it  both  to  fools-coats  and  to  fools. 
And  why  not  players  strut  in  courtiers'  clothes? 
For  these  are  actors  too,  as  well  as  those : 
Wants  reach  all  states ;  they  beg  but  better  drest, 
And  all  is  splended  poverty  at  best.  225 

Painted  for  sight,  and  essenc'd  for  the  smell, 
Like  frigates  fraught  with  spice  and  cochinel, 
Sail  in  the  Ladies  :  how  each  pirate  eyes 
So  weak  a  vessel,  and  so  rich  a  prize! 

Top-gallant  he,  and  she  in  all  her  trim,  230 

He  boarding  her,  she  striking  sail  to  him : 
"  Dear  Countess!  you  have  charms  all  hearts  to  hit!  " 
And  *^  Sweet  Sir  Fopling  !  you  have  so  much  wit!" 
Such  wits  and  beauties  are  not  prais'd  for  nought, 
For  both  the  beauty  and  the  wit  are  bought.  235 

'T  wou'd  burst  ev'n  Heraclitus  ^  with  the  spleen. 
To  see  those  antics,  Fopling  and  Courtine : 
The  Presence  seems,  with  things  so  richly  odd, 
The  mosque  of  Mahound,  or  some  queer  Pagod. 
See  them  survey  their  limbs  by  Durer's  *  rules,  240 

Of  all  beau-kind  the  best-proportion'd  fools! 
Adjust  their  clothes,  and  to  confession  draw 
Those  venial  sins,  an  atom,  or  a  straw ; 
But  oh !  what  terrors  must  distract  the  soul 
Convicted  of  that  mortal  crime,  a  hole  ;  245 

Or  should  one  pound  of  powder  less  bespread 
Those  monkey  tails  that  wag  behind  their  head. 
Thus  finish'd,  and  corrected  to  a  hair. 
They  march,  to  prate  their  hour  before  the  Fair. 
So  first  to  preach  a  white-glov'd  Chaplain  goes,  250 

With  band  of  Lily,  and  with  cheek  of  Rose, 

^  At  Fig's,  at  White*  s,  with  felons, IWVxx.^^  2  ^^^  stage  give  rules, '\    Alluding  to  the 

was  a  noted  gaming-house:  Fig's,  a  Prize-fight-  Chamberlain's  Authority  [as  licenser  of  plays]. 

er's  Academy,  where  the  young  Nobility  re-  Warburton. 

ceiv'd  instruction  in  those  days.     It  was  also  ^  [*  The  weeping  philosopher.'] 

customary  for  the  nobility  and  gentry  to  visit  ^  [Albrecht  Durer,  among  other  works  on  the 

the  condemned  criminals  in  Newgate.     P.  theory  of  his  art,  published  a  work  on  the  Pro- 
portions of  the  human  figure.] 


SATIRES  OF  DR.   DONNE   VERSIFIED,  341 

Sweeter  than  Sharon,  in  immac'late  trim, 

Neatness  itself  impertinent  in  him. 

Let  but  the  Ladies  smile,  and  they  are  blest : 

Prodigious!  how  the  things /r^/'^j/,/rd7/^j'/:  255 

Peace,  fools,  or  Gonson  will  for  Papists  seize  you, 

If  once  he  catch  you  at  yowv  Jesu!  Jesul 

Nature  made  ev'ry  Fop  to  plague  his  brother, 
Just  as  one  Beauty  mortifies  another. 

But  here 's  the  Captain  that  will  plague  them  both,  260 

Whose  air  cries  Arm !  whose  very  look  's  an  oath : 
The  Captain  's  honest, ^  Sirs,  and  that 's  enough, 
Tho'  his  soul  's  bullet,  and  his  body  buff. 
He  spits  fore-right ;  his  haughty  chest  before. 
Like  batt'ring-rams,  beats  open  evVy  door:  265 

y^     \  And  with  a  face  as  red,  and  as  awry, 
'        /As  Herod's  hang-dogs  in  old  Tapestry,^ 

■Scarecrow  to  boys,  the  breeding  woman's  curse, 
Has  yet  a  strange  ambition  to  look  worse ; 
Confounds  the  civil,  keeps  the  rude  in  awe,  270 

Jests  like  a  licens'd  fool,  commands  like  law. 

Frighted,  I  quit  the  room,  but  leave  it  so 
As  men  from  Jails  to  execution  go ; 
For  hung  with  deadly  sins  ^  I  see  the  wall, 
And  lin'd  with  Giants  deadlier  than  'em  all :  275 

Each  man  an  Askapart^^  of  strength  to  toss 
For  Quoits,  both  Temple-bar  and  Charing-cross. 
Scar'd  at  the  grizly  forms,  I  sweat,  I  fly, 
And  shake  all  o'er,  like  a  discover'd  spy. 

Courts  are  too  much  for  wits  so  weak  as  mine :  280 

Charge  them  with  Heav'n's  Artill'ry,  bold  Divine ! 
From  such  alone  the  Great  rebukes  endure. 
Whose  Satire  's  sacred,  and  whose  rage  secure  : 

'T  is  mine  to  wash  a  few  light  stains,  but  theirs 
To  deluge  sin,  and  drown  a  Court  in  tears.  285 

Howe'er  what 's  now  Apocrypha,  my  Wit, 
In  time  to  come,  may  pass  for  holy  writ.^ 

1  Much  resembling  Noll  Bluff  in  Congreve's         *  A  giant  famous  in  Romances.    P. 
Old  Bachelor,  who  was  copied  from  Thraso,         ^  *  Although  I  yet 

and  also  from  Ben  Jonson.     Warton.  (With  Maccabees  modesty)  the  known  merit 

2  [Cf.  Essay  on  Criticism,  v.  588.]  Of  my  work  lessen,  yet  some  wise  men  shall, 

3  For  hung  with  deadly  sins\    The  Room  I  hope,  esteem  my  wits  canonical.'       Donne 
hung  with  old  Tapestry,  representing  the  seven 

deadly  sins.    P. 


342  EPILOGUE  TO    THE  SATIRES. 

EPILOGUE   TO   THE   SATIRES 
IN   TWO   DIALOGUES. 

Written  in  MDCCXXXVIII. 

[The  first  part  of  these  Satires  was  published  under  the  title  of  One  Thousand  Seven 
Hundred  and  Thirty-eight,  a  Dialogue  something  like  Horace  ;  and  the  second  part  fol- 
lowed in  the  same  year.  It  is  remarkable,  says  Boswell  (in  his  Life  of  Johnson) ,  that 
Johnson's  London  came  out  on  the  same  morning  in  May  as  Pope's  '  1738  ' ;  '  so  that 
England  had  at  once  its  Juvenal  and  Horace  as  poetical  monitors.'  Johnson's  satire, 
though  published  anonymously  and  having  nothing,  like  Pope's,  to  betray  its  author, 
appears  to  have  created  the  stronger  sensation.] 

DIALOGUE   I. 

Fr.    "\  tot  twice  a  twelve-month  ^  you  appear  in  Print, 

1  >|     And  when  it  comes,  the  Court  see  nothing  in't 
You  grow  correct,  that  once  with  Rapture  writ, 
And  are,  besides,  too  moral  for  a  Writ. 

Decay  of  Parts,  alas!  we  all  must  feel—  5 

Why  now,  this  moment,  don't  I  see  you  steal? 
'Tis  all  from  Horace  ;  Horace  long  before  ye 
Said,  '^  Tories  calPd  him  Whig,  and  Whigs  a  Tory ; " 
And  taught  his  Romans,  in  much  better  metre, 
*^  To  laugh  at  Fools  who  put  their  trust  in  Peter."  10 

But  Horace,  Sir,  was  delicate,  was  nice ; 
Bubo  observes,^  he  lashM  no  sort  of  Vice: 
Horace  would  say,  Sir  Billy  serv'd  the  Crown^ 
Blunt  could  do  Bus'^ness,  H — ggins  ^  knew  the  Town  ; 
In  Sappho  touch  the  Failings  of  the  Sex,  15 

In  rev'rend  Bishops  note  some  small  Neglects, 
And  own,  the  Spaniard  did  a  waggish  thing. 
Who  cropt  our  Ears,^  and  sent  them  to  the  King. 
His  sly,  polite,  insinuating  style 

Could  please  at  Court,  and  make  Augustus  smile :  20 

An  artful  Manager,  that  crept  between 
His  Friend  and  Shame,  and  was  a  kind  of  Screen.^ 

1  Not  twice  a  twelve-month,  ^c.'\  These  Huggins]  was  the  father  of  the  author  of  the 
two  lines  are  from  Horace;  and  the  only  lines  absurd  and  prosaic  Translation  of  Ariosto. 
that  are  so  in  the  whole  Poem;  being  meant  to  Warton. 
be  a  handle  to  that  which  follows  in  the  char-  ^  Who  cropt  our  Ears,]  Said  to  be  executed 
acter  of  an  impertinent  Censurer,  by  the  Captain  of  a  Spanish  ship  on  one  Jen- 

'Tzs  all  from  Horace;  <5r»c.    P.  kins,  a  Captain  of  an  English  one.     He  cut  off 

[The  passage  is  at  the  commencement  of  Hor.  his  ears,  and  bid  him  carry  them  to  the  King 

Sat.  II.  III.]  his  master.     P.     [Vide  Mr.  Carlyle's   History 

2  Bubo  observes,]  Some  guilty  person  very  oi Frederick  the  Great,  passim.] 

fond  of  making  such  an  observation.     P.      [Mr.  ^  Omnevafervitiumridenti Flaccus  amico 

Doddington,  Lord  Melcombe.     Am.  Ed.]  Tangit,  et admissus  circum prcBcordia ludit. 

3  [V.  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot,  v.  280.]  Pers.  \Sat.  1.  116.]     P. 

4  H— ggins]  Formerly  Jailor  of  the  Fleet  Screen]  A  metaphor  peculiarly  appropriated 
prison,   enriched   himself  by   many  exactions,  to  a  certain  person  in  power.     P. 

for  which  he  was  tried  and  expelled.     P.     [This 


EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES.  343 

But  'faith  your  very  Friends  will  soon  be  sore ; 

Patriots  there  are,^  who  wish  you  'd  jest  no  more  — 

And  where 's  the  Glory  ?  't  will  be  only  thought  25 

The  Great  man  2  never  ofFer'd  you  a  groat. 

Go  see  Sir  Robert  — 

P.   See  Sir  Robert!  —  hum — 
And  never  laugh  —  for  all  my  life  to  come  ? 
Seen  him  I  have,  but  in  his  happier  hour^ 
Of  Social  Pleasure,  ill-exchangM  for  PowV ;  30 

Seen  him,  uncumber'd  *  with  the  Venal  tribe, 
Smile  without  Art,  and  win  without  a  Bribe. 
Would  he  oblige  me?  let  me  only  find. 
He  does  not  think  me  what  he  thinks  mankind.^ 
Come,  come,  at  all  I  laugh  he  laughs,  no  doubt ;  35 

The  only  diff'rence  is  I  dare  laugh  out. 

F.    Why  yes  :  with  Scripture  still  you  may  be  free ; 
A  Horse-laugh,  if  you  please,  at  Honesty  ; 
A  Joke  on  Jekyl,^  or  some  odd  0/d  IVhig 
Who  never  changM  his  Principle,  or  Wig :  4C» 

A  Patriot  is  a  Fool  in  ev'ry  age. 
Whom  all  Lord  Chamberlains  allow  the  Stage : 
These  nothing  hurts  ;  '^  they  keep  their  Fashion  still, 
And  wear  their  strange  old  Virtue,  as  they  will. 
If  any  ask  you,  "  Who 's  the  Man,  so  near  45 

"His  Prince,  that  writes  in  Verse,  and  has  his  ear?  " 
Why,  answer,  Lyttelton,^  and  I  '11  engage 
The  worthy  Youth  shall  ne'er  be  in  a  rage ; 
But  were  his  Verses  vile,  his  Whisper  base, 
You  'd  quickly  find  him  in  Lord  Fanny'' s  case.  50 

Sejanus,  Wolsey,^  hurt  not  honest  Fleury,i<^ 
But  well  may  put  some  Statesmen  in  a  fury. 

1  Patriots  there  are,  <57^^.]  This  appellation  and  a  man  of  the  utmost  probity.  He  sometimes 
was  generally  given  to  those  in  opposition  to  the  voted  against  the  Court,  which  drew  upon  him 
Court.  Though  some  of  them  (which  our  au-  the  laugh  here  described  of  One  who  bestowed 
thor  hints  at)  had  views  too  mean  and  interested  it  equally  upon  Religion  and  Honesty.  He 
to  deserve  that  Name.     P.  died  a  few  months  after  the  publication  of  this 

2  The  Great  man]  A  phrase  by  common  use  poem.  P.  {^burton. 
appropriated  to  the  first  minister.     P.                           "^  These  nothing  hurts ;^i.t.o^&n6iS.     War- 

3  [Explained  by  Warburton  to  refer  to  the  ^  ivhy,  answer,  Lyttelton,]  George  Lyttel- 
favour  conferred  by  Walpole  at  Pope's  request  ton,  Secretary  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  distin- 
upon  the  Catholic  priest  Southcote.  See  Intro-  guished  both  for  his  writings  and  speeches  in 
ductory  Memoir,  p.  xi,]  the  spirit  of  Liberty.     P.     [V.  Im.  of  Hor.  Bk. 

*  Seen  him,  uncumber'd]  These  two  verses  i.  Ep.  i.  v.  29.] 

were  originally  in  the  poem,  though  omitted  in  ^  Sejanus,    IVolsey,]    The   one   the  wicked 

all  the  first  editions.     P.  minister  of  Tiberius;  the  other,  of  Henry  VHI. 

^  [Bowles  quotes  Coxe's  correction   of   the  The  writers  against  the  Court  usually  bestowed 

cynical  saying  commonly  attributed  to  Sir  R.  these  and  other  odious  names  on  the  Minister, 

Walpole.     '  The  political  axiom  was  perverted  without  distinction,  and  in  the  most  injurious 

by  leaving  out  the  word  those'  (referring  to  cer-  manner.     See  Dial.  11.  v.  137.     P. 

tain  pretended  patriots).]  ^^  Fleury,]  Cardinal:  and  Minister  to  Louis 

^  A  yoke  on  Jekyl,]  Sir  Joseph  Jekyl,  Mas-  XV.     It  was  a  Patriot-fashion,  at  that  time,  to 

ter  of  the  Rolls,  a  true  Whig  in  his  principles,  cry  up  his  wisdom  and  honesty.     P. 


344  EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATTRES. 

I     Laugh  then  at  any,  but  at  Fools  or  Foes ; 

/  These  you  but  anger,  and  you  mend  not  those. 

f  Laugh  at  your  friends,  and,  if  your  Friends  are  sore,  55 

I  So  much  the  better,  you  may  laugh  the  more. 

To  Vice  and  Folly  to  confine  the  jest. 

Sets  half  the  world,  God  knows,  against  the  rest ; 

Did  not  the  Sneer  of  more  impartial  men 

At  Sense  and  Virtue,  balance  all  again.  60 

Judicious  Wits  spread  wide  the  Ridicule, 

And  charitably  comfort  Knave  and  Fool. 
P.   Dear  Sir,  forgive  the  Prejudice  of  Youth : 

Adieu  Distinction,  Satire,  Warmth,  and  Ti-uth! 

Come,  harmless  Characters,  that  no  one  hit ;  65 

/Come,  Henley's  Oratory,  Osborne's ^  Wit! 

The  Honey  dropping  from  Favonio's  tongue, 

The  Flow'rs  of  Bubo,  and  the  Flow  of  Y — ng!^ 

The  gracious  Dew  ^  of  Pulpit  Eloquence, 

And  all  the  well-whipt  Cream  of  Courtly  Sense,  70 

That  First  was  H — vy's,  F — 's  next,  and  then 

The  S — te's,  and  then  H — vy's  once  again. 

O  come,  that  easy  Ciceronian  style,^ 

So  Latin,  yet  so  English  all  the  while, 

As,  tho'  the  Pride  of  Middleton  ^  and  Bland, «  75 

All  Boys  may  read,  and  Girls  may  understand! 

Then  might  I  sing,  without  the  least  offence, 

And  all  I  sung  should  be  the  Nation's  Sense ;'^ 

Or  teach  the  melancholy  Muse  to  mourn, 

Hang  the  sad  Verse  on  Carolina's  ^  Urn,  80 

And  hail  her  passage  to  the  Realms  of  Rest, 

All  Parts  performed,  and  all  her  Children  blest! 

So  —  Satire  is  no  more  —  I  feel  it  die  — 

No  Gazetteer  more  innocent  than  I  —  ^ 

1  Henley  —  Osborne\  See  them  in  their  places  Ciceronian  style ^  which   is   highly  laboured, 
in  the  Dunciad.     P.  solemn,  and  pompous.     Warburton. 

2  [Sir  William  Yonge,  not,  as  Bowles  conject-  ^  [Lord  Hervey's  friend,  Dr.  Conyers  Mid- 
ures  to  be  possible,  Dr.  Edward  Young,  author  dleton,  author  of  the  Life  of  Cicero. ^ 

of  The  Night  Thoughts^  although  to  the  latter         ^  Dr.   Bland,   of   Eton,   a  very  bad  writer. 

Doddington  (Bubo)  was  a  constant  friend.]  Bennet. 

3  The  graciotis  Dew'\  Alludes  to  some  court         ^  [According  to  Warburton,  a  cant  term  of 
sermons,  and  florid  panegyrical  speeches;  par-  politics  at  the  time.] 

ticularly  one  very  full  of  puerilities  and  flatter-         ®  Carolina]    Queen  Consort  to  King  George 

ies;  which  afterwards  got  into  an  address  in  the  IL    She  died  in  1737.    Her  death  gave  occasion, 

same  pretty  style;  and  was  lastly  served  up  in  as  is  observed  above,  to  many  indiscreet  and 

an  Epitaph,  between  Latin  and  English,  pub-  mean  performances  unworthy  of  her  memory, 

lished,   by  its   author,     P.     An   'Epitaph'   on  whose    last    moments    manifested    the    utmost 

Queen  Caroline  was  written  by  Lord  Her7>ey,  courage  and  resolution.     P. 
and  an  address  moved  in  the  House  of  Com-         ^  No  Gazetteer  more  innocent  than  L]  The 

mons  (the  Senate)  on  the  occasion  by  H.  Fox.  Gazetteer  is  one  of  the  low  appendices  to  the 

Carruthers.  Secretary  of  State's   office,   to  write  the  gov- 

*  that  easy  Ciceronian  style,']  A  joke  upon  ernment's  newspaper,  published  by  authority, 

absurd   Imitators;    who   in   light   and   familiar  Sir  Richard  Steele  had  once  this  post.    War' 

compositions,    which    require     ease,    aff"ect    a  burton. 


(Bu 

lAl] 


EPILOGUE   TO   THE  SATIRES,  345 

And  let,  a'  God's  name,  ev'ry  Fool  and  Knave  85 

Be  graced  thro'  Life,  and  flatter'd  in  his  Grave. 
F.   Why  so?  if  Satire  knows  its  Time  and  Place, 

You  still  may  lash  the  greatest  —  in  Disgrace ; 

For  Merit  will  by  turns  forsake  them  all : 

Would  you  know  when  ?  exactly  when  they  fall.  90 

But  let  all  Satire  in  all  Changes  spare 

Immortal  S — k,  and  grave  De — re.^ 
I  Silent  and  soft,  as  Saints  remove  to  Heav'n, 
\  All  Ties  dissolved  and  ev'ry  Sin  forgiv'n, 

These  may  some  gentle  ministerial  Wing  95 

V    '/I         Receive,  and  place  for  ever  near  a  King! 
I    Cl^^   \      jThere,  where  no  Passion,  Pride,  or  Shame  transport, 
\^    <  Luird  with  the  sweet  Nepenthe  of  a  Court ; 

'  fThere,  where  no  Father's,  Brother's,  Friend's  disgrace 

[Once  break  their  rest,  or  stir  them  from  their  Place :  100 

But  past  the  Sense  of  human  Miseries, 

'  \11  Tears  are  wip'd  for  ever  from  all  eyes  ;  ^ 

No  cheek  is  known  to  blush,  no  heart  to  throb, 

Save  when  they  lose  a  Question,  or  a  Job. 

P.    Good  Heav'n  forbid,  that  I  should  blast  their  glory,    105 

Who  know  how  like  Whig  Ministers  to  Tory, 

And,  when  three  Sov'reigns  died,  could  scarce  be  vext, 

Consid'ring  what  a  gracious  Prince  was  next. 

Have  I,  in  silent  wonder,  seen  such  things 

As  Pride  in  Slaves,  and  Avarice  in  Kings ;  IIO 

And  at  a  Peer,  or  Peeress,  shall  I  fret. 

Who  starves  a  Sister,  or  forswears  a  debt?* 
I  Virtue^  I  grant  you,  is  an  empty  boast ;  * 
(But  shall  the  Dignity  of  Vice  be  lost? 
'Ye  Gods!  shall  Gibber's  Son,  without  rebuke,  1 15 

Swear  like  a  Lord,  or  Rich^  out-whore  a  Duke?^ 

1  Immortal  S — k^  and  grave  De — re!'\  A  her  sister  hardly,  while  the  latter  was  out  of  her 
title  given  that  Lord  by  King  James  II.  He  senses,  and  of  having  frightened  a  Frenchman  of 
was  of  the  Bedchamber  to  King  William;  he  the  name  of  Ruzemonde  (who  had  entrusted  her 
was  so  to  King  George  I. ;  he  was  so  to  King  with  a  large  sum  of  money  to  buy  stock  for  him) 
George  II.  This  Lord  was  very  skilful  in  all  out  of  England  by  threats  of  betraying  her  in- 
the  forms  of  the  House,  in  which  he  discharged  trigue  with  him,  first  to  her  husband,  then  to  her 
himself  with  great  gravity.  P.  Pope  alludes  brother-in-law.  Lord  WharnclifTe,  in  the  Ap- 
to  Charles  Hamilton,  third  son  of  the  Duke  of  pendix  to  Vol.  iii.  of  his  Letters  and  Works  of 
Hamilton,  who  was  created  Earl  of  Selkirk  in  Lady  M.  W.  M.,  states  that  the  former  accusa- 
1667.    Bowies.     [Is  Lord  Delaware  the  other?]  tion  is  utterly  unfounded,  and  shews  that  the 

2  [Cf.    Messiah,    v.   46  —  a    line   altered  at  latter  rests  on  a  perversion  of  facts.] 

Steele's  request.]  *  Virtue,  I  grant  you,  is  an  evipty  boast;'\ 

8  In  some  editions,  A  satirical  ambiguity  —  either  that  those  starve 

Who  starves  a  Mother, —     Warburton.  who  have  it,  or  that  those  who  boast  of  it,  have 

I  have  been  informed  that  these  verses  re-  it  not :  and  both  together  (he  insinuates)  make 

lated  to  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu  and  her  sister  up  the  present  state  of  modern  virtue.     War- 

the  Countess  of  Mar.     Bowles.     [This  charge  burton. 

against  Lady  M.  W.  M.  rests  on  the  scandal  of         ^  Gibber's  Son,  —  Richi  Two  Players:  look 

Horace  Walpole,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Sir  H.  for  them  in  the  Dunciad.     P.     [Rich,  iv.  261. 

Mann.     She  is  there  accused  of  having  treated  He  was  the  lessee  of  Covent-Garden  theatre.] 


346  EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES. 

A  Fav'rite's  Porter  with  his  Master  vie, 

Be  bribed  as  often,  and  as  often  lie? 

Shall  Ward  ^  draw  Contracts  with  a  Statesman's  skill  ? 

Or  Japhet^  pocket,  like  his  Grace,  a  Will?  120 

Is  it  for  Bond,^  or  Peter,  (paltry  things) 

To  pay  their  Debts,  or  keep  their  Faith,  like  Kings? 

If  Blount*  despatch^  himself,  he  play'd  the  man, 

And  so  may'st  thou,  illustrious  Passeran !  ^ 

But  shall  a  Printer,  weary  of  his  life,  1 25 

Learn,  from  their  Books,  to  hang  himself  and  Wife? 

This,  this,  my  friend,  I  cannot,  must  not  bear ; 

Vice  thus  abusM,  demands  a  Nation's  care ; 

This  calls  the  Church  to  deprecate  our  Sin  J 

And  hurls  the  Thunder  of  the  Laws  on  Gin.^  I30 

Let  modest  Foster,  if  he  will,  excel 
Ten  Metropolitans  in  preaching  well :  ^ 
A  simple  Quaker,  or  a  Quaker's  Wife,  ^^ 
Out-do  Llandaffi^  in  Doctrine,  —  yea  in  Life: 
Let  humble  Allen, ^'^  with  an  awkward  Shame,  I35 

Do  good  by  stealth,  and  blush  to  find  it  Fame. 
Virtue  may  choose  the  high  or  low  Degree, 
'T  is  just  alike  to  Virtue,  and  to  me ; 
Dwell  in  a  Monk,  or  light  upon  a  King, 

She  's  still  the  same,  belov'd,  contented  thing.  14& 

Vice  is  undone,  if  she  forgets  her  Birth, 
And  stoops  from  Angels  to  the  Dregs  of  Earth : 
But 't  is  the  Fall  degrades  her  to  a  Whore  ; 

Swear   like    a    Lord  —  or   out-whore    a  happy  man  left  behind  him  a  paper  justifying 

Duke?]     Elegance  demands  that  these  should  his  action  by  the  reasonings  of  some  of  these 

be  two  proverbial  expressions.     To  swear  like  authors.     P. 

a  Lord  is  so.     But  to  out-whore  a  Duke  cer-         "^  This  calls  the  Church  to  deprecate  our 

tainly  is   not.     However   this  shews   that  the  Sin^  Alluding  to  the_/^r?«.y  of  Prayer,  com- 

continence  and  conjugal  virtues  of  the  higher  posed  in  the  times  of  public  calamity;   where 

nobility  must  needs  be  very  exemplary.    Scribl.  the  fault  is   generally   laid  upon    the   People. 

1  [Cf.  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  iii.  v.  20.]  Warburton. 

2  [Cf.  16,  V.  86.]  *  Gin.]  A  spirituous  liquor,  the  exorbitant 
s  [Cf.  Dunciad,  iii.  v.  126.]  use  of  which  had  almost  destroyed  the  lowest 
*   If  Blotint]  Author  of  an  impious  and  fool-  rank  of  the  People  till  it  was  restrained  by  an 

ish  book  called  the  Oracles  of  Reason,  who  act  of  Parliament  in  1736.     P. 

being  in  love  with  a  near  kinswoman  of  his,  and  ^  An  eloquent  and  persuasive  preacher,  who 

rejected,  gave  himself  a  stab  in  the  arm,  as  pre-  wrote    an    excellent    Defence    of    Christianity 

tending  to  kill  himself,  of  the  consequence  of  against  Tindal.     Warton. 

which  he  really  died.     P.  ^"  Mrs.  Drummond,  celebrated  in  her  time. 

^  Passeran!]  Author  of  another  book  of  the  Warton. 

same  stamp,  called  A  philosophical  discourse  'i  Llaiidaff]  A  poor  Bishoprick  in  Wales,  as 

on  death,  being  a  defence  of  suicide.     He  was  poorly    supplied.     P.     By    Dr.   John    Harris, 

a   nobleman   of    Piedmont,   banished    from   his  Carruthers. 

country  for  his  impieties,  and  lived  in  the  ut-  12  [Ralph  Allen,  of  Prior  Park,  an  intimate 

most   misery,   yet  feared   to  practise  his   own  friend  and  constant  correspondent  of  Pope's,  to 

precepts;    and  at  last  died  a  penitent.     War-  whom  he  performed  many  kind  services.     He 

burton.  was  afterwards  a  munificent  patron  to  Fielding. 

<5  But  shall  a  Printer,  &'c.]     A  Fact  that  Of  his   charitable   habits  there   is  evidence  in 

happened  in  London  a  few  years  past.     The  un-  Pope's  Will.] 


EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES.  347 

Let  Greatness  own  her,  and  she  's  mean  no  more ;  ^ 

Her  Birth,  her  Beauty,  Crowds  and  Courts  confess ;  145 

Chaste  Matrons  praise  her,  and  grave  Bishops  bless ; 
C)  \  y^         In  golden  Chains  the  willing  World  she  draws, 
^V  And  hers  the  Gospel  is,  and  hers  the  Laws, 

Mounts  the  Tribunal,  lifts  her  scarlet  head. 

And  sees  pale  Virtue  carted  in  her  stead.  150 

Lo!  at  the  wheels  of  her  Triumphal  Car, 

Old  England's  Genius,  rough  with  many  a  Scar, 
\  '  Dragged  in  the  dust  I  his  arms  hang  idly  round, 

His  Flag  inverted  trails  along  the  ground  ! 

Our  Youth,  all  livery'd  o'er  with  foreign  Gold,  155 

Before  her  dance  :  behind  her  crawl  the  Old! 

See  thronging  Millions  to  the  Pagod  run. 

And  offer  Country,  Parent,  Wife,  or  Son! 

Hear  her  black  Trumpet  thro'  the  Land  proclaim, 

That  Not  to  be  corrupted  is  the  Shame.  160 

In  Soldier,  Churchman,  Patriot,  Man  in  Pow'r, 

'T  is  Av'rice  all,  Ambition  is  no  more! 

See,  all  our  Nobles  begging  to  be  Slaves! 

See,  all  our  Fools  aspiring  to  be  Knaves! 

The  Wit  of  Cheats,  the  Courage  of  a  Whore,  165 

Are  what  ten  thousand  envy  and  adore ; 

All,  all  look  up,  with  reverential  Awe, 

At  Crimes  that  'scape,  or  triumph  o'er  the  Law ; 

While  Truth,  Worth,  Wisdom,  daily  they  decry  — 

"Nothing  is  Sacred  now  but  Villainy."  170 

Yet  may  this  Verse  (if  such  a  Verse  remain) 

Shew,  there  was  one  who  held  it  in  disdain. 


J 


DIALOGUE  11. 

Fr.  "T^  is  all  a  Libel  —  Paxton  2  (Sir)  will  say. 

J.       P.   Not  yet,  my  Friend!  to-morrow  'faith  it  may 
And  for  that  very  cause  I  print  to-day. 
How  should  I  fret  to  mangle  ev'ry  line, 
In  rev'rence  to  the  Sins  (^Thirty  ninel^  5 

Vice  with  such  Giant  strides  comes  on  amain. 
Invention  strives  to  be  before  in  vain ; 
Feign  what  I  will,  and  paint  it  e'er  so  strong,* 

1  [Said  by  Warburton  to  refer  to  the  Empress  *  Feign  what  I  will,  etc.'\  The  Poet  has 
Theodora,  the  wife  of  Justinian,  though  Gibbon  here  introduced  an  oblique  apology  for  himself 
is  sceptical  as  to  the  intended  allusion.]  with  great  art.     You  attack  personal  characters, 

2  Paxto7i\  Late  solicitor  to  the  Treasury,  say  his  enemies.  No,  replies  he,  so  far  from 
Warburton.  [Cf.  infra,  v.  141.  He  was,  ac-  that,  I  paint  from  my  invention;  and  to  pre- 
cording  to  Carruthers,  deeply  involved  in  the  vent  a  likeness  I  exaggerate  every  feature.  But 
charges  against  Sir  R.  Walpole;  and  tempora-  alas!  the  growth  of  vice  is  so  monstrous  quick, 
rily  imprisoned.]  that  it  rises  up  to  a  resemblance  before  I  can  get 

3  [i.e.  of  next  year,]  from  the  press. 


348  EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES. 

Some  rising  Genius  sins  up  to  my  Song. 

F.    Yet  none  but  you  by  Name  the  guilty  lash ;  10 

Ev'n  Guthry  ^  saves  half  Newgate  by  a  Dash. 
Spare  then  the  Person,  and  expose  the  Vice. 

P.    How,  Sir?  not  damn  the  Sharper,  but  the  Dice? 
Come  on  then,  Satire!  general,  unconfin'd, 
jj  Spread  thy  broad  wing,  and  souse  on  all  the  kind.  15 

i\'        Ye  Statesmen,  Priests,  of  one  religion  all! 

Ye  Tradesmen  vile,  in  Army,  Court,  or  Hall, 

Ye  RevVend  Atheists —    F.    Scandal!  name  them!  Who? 

P.    Why,  that 's  the  thing  you  bid  me  not  to  do. 
Who  starv'd  a  Sister,  who  forswore  a  Debt,^  20 

I  never  nam'd ;  the  Town  's  enquiring  yet. 
The  poisoning  Dame —    F.  You  mean —   P.  I  don't.—   F.  You  do! 

P.    See,  now  I  keep  the  Secret,  and  not  you! 
The  bribing  Statesman  —    F.    Hold,  too  high  you  go. 

P.    The  bribM  Elector —    F.   There  you  stoop  too  low.  25 

P.    I  fain  would  please  you,  if  I  knew  with  what ; 
Tell  me,  which  Knave  is  lawful  Game,  which  not? 
Must  great  Offenders,  once  escaped  the  Crown,^ 
Like  royal  Harts,  be  never  more  run  down  ?  * 

Admit  your  Law  to  spare  the  Knight  requires,  30 

As  Beasts  of  Nature  may  we  hunt  the  Squires  ? 
Suppose  I  censure — you  know  what  I  mean  — 
To  save  a  Bishop,  may  I  name  a  Dean? 

F.    A  Dean,  Sir?  no:  his  Fortune  is  not  made; 
You  hurt  a  man  that 's  rising  in  the  Trade.  35 

P.    If  not  the  Tradesman  who  set  up  to-day, 
Much  less  the  'Prentice  who  to-morrow  may. 
Down,  down,  proud  Satire!  tho'  a  Realm  be  spoiPd, 
Arraign  no  mightier  Thief  than  wretched  Wild;  ^ 
Or,  if  a  Court  or  Country 's  made  a  job,  40 

Go  drench  a  Pick-pocket,  and  join  the  Mob. 

But,  Sir,  I  beg  you  (for  the  Love  of  Vice!) 
The  matter  's  weighty,  pray  consider  twice ; 
Have  you  less  pity  for  the  needy  Cheat, 

The  poor  and  friendless  Villain,  than  the  Great?  45 

Alas!  the  small  Discredit  of  a  Bribe 
Scarce  hurts  the  Lawyer,  but  undoes  the  Scribe. 
Then  better  sure  it  Charity  becomes 
To  tax  Directors,  who  (thank  God)  have  Plums ; 

1  Ev'n  Guthry'\  The  Ordinary  of  Newgate,  *  Like  royal  Harts,  etcJ]  Alluding  to  the 
who  publishes  the  memoirs  of  the  Malefactors,     old  Game  Laws.     Warburton. 

and  is  often  prevailed  upon  to  be  so  tender  of  ^  wretched  Wild,'\  Jonathan  Wild,  a  famous 

their  reputation,  as  to  set  down  no  more  than  Thief,  and  Thief-Impeacher,  who  was  at  last 

the  initials  of  their  name.     P.  caught  in  his  own  train  and  hanged.    P.    [Field- 

2  Cf.  ante,  Dial.  i.  v.  112.]  ing's  Jonathan  Wild  appeared  in  1743,  nearly 

3  Must  great  Offenders ,  etc.]  The  case  is  a  quarter  of  a  century  after  the  death  of  its  hero, 
archly  put.  Those  who  escape  public  justice  But  highwaymen  flourished  till  a  considerably 
being  the  particular  property  of  the  Satirist.  later  date.] 


EPILOGUE  TO  THE  SATIRES.  349 

Still  better,  Ministers  ;  or,  if  the  thing  50 

May  pinch  ev'n  there  —  why  lay  it  on  a  King. 

F.    Stop!  stop! 

P.    Must  Satire,  then,  nor  rise  nor  fall? 
Speak  out,  and  bid  me  blame  no  Rogues  at  all. 

F.   Yes,  strike  that  Wild,  I  '11  justify  the  blow. 

P.    Strike?  why  the  man  was  hang'd  ten  years  ago:  55 

Who  now  that  obsolete  Example  fears  ? 
Ev'n  Peter  trembles  only  for  his  Ears.^ 

F.   What?  always  Peter?  Peter  thinks  you  mad; 
You  make  men  desperate  if  they  once  are  bad : 
Else  might  he  take  to  Virtue  some  years  hence  —  60 

P.   As  S — k,2  if  he  lives,  will  love  the  Prince. 

F.    Strange  spleen  to  S — k! 

P.    Do  I  wrong  the  Man? 
God  knows,  I  praise  a  Courtier  where  I  can. 
When  I  confess,  there  is  who  feels  for  Fame, 
And  melts  to  Goodness,  need  I  Scarb'row^  name?  65 

Pleas'd  let  me  own,  in  Esher's  peaceful  Grove  ^ 
(Where  Kent^  and  Nature  vie  for  Pelham's^  Love) 
The  Scene,  the  Master,  opening  to  my  view, 
I  sit  and  dream  I  see  my  Craggs  anew! 

Ev'n  in  a  Bishop  I  can  spy  Desert ;  70 

Seeker'^  is  decent,  Rundel^  has  a  Heart, 
Manners  with  Candour  are  to  Benson  ^  giv'n, 
To  Berkeley ^^  ev'ry  Virtue  under  Heav'n. 

But  does  the  Court  a  worthy  Man  remove? 
That  instant,  I  declare,  he  has  my  Love :  75 

I  shun  his  Zenith,  court  his  mild  Decline ; 

*  Ev*n  Peter  trembles  only  for  his  ears,']  «  [Henry  Pelham  became  First  Lord  of  the 
Peter  had,  the  year  before  this,  narrowly  escaped  treasury  in  1743,  through  Walpole's  influence; 
the  Pillory  for  forgery:  and  got  off  with  a  severe  and  died  in  1754,  the  King  exclaiming  on  his 
rebuke  only  from  the  bench.     P.  death:  *  Now  I  shall  have  no  more  peace.'] 

2  [V.  ante,  Dial.  i.  v.  92.]  7  [Thos.    Seeker    (1693-1768),    successively 
8  Scarb'row']     Earl  of,  and  Knight  of  the  bishop  of  Bristol  and  of  Oxford,  and  archbishop 
Garter,  whose  personal  attachments  to  the  king  of  Canterbury.     His  career  is  accounted  for  by 
appeared  from  his  steady  adherence  to  the  royal  his  personal  reputation  for  liberality  and  mod- 
interest,  after  his  resignation  of  his  great  em-  eration.] 

ployment  of  M;ister  of  the  Horse;   and  whose         ^  [Dr.  Rundel,  bishop  of  Derry,  esteemed 

known  honour  and  virtue  made  him  esteemed  equally  by  Pope  and  Swift.     See  their  letters  of 

by  all  parties.     P.     [He  committed  suicide  in  a  Sept.  3,  1735  and  foil.] 

fit  of  melancholy  in  1740;  and  was  mourned  by         ^  [Bishop  of  Gloucester.     He  ordained  Whit- 
Lord  Chesterfield  as   *  the  best    man   he  ever  field.] 
knew,  and  the  dearest  friend  he  ever  had.']  ^o  [Dr.    Berkeley,   bishop   of   Cloyne    (born 

*  Esher's  peaceful  Grove,"]  The  house  and  1684,  died  1707),  the  illustrious  author  of  Ale z- 
gardens  of  Esher  in  Surrey,  belonging  to  the  phron.  A  very  different  bishop  (Atterbury) 
Honourable  Mr.  Pelham,  Brother  of  the  Duke  said  of  him  that  *  so  much  understanding,  so 
of  Newcastle.  The  author  could  not  have  given  much  knowledge,  so  much  innocence,  and  such 
a  more  amiable  idea  of  his  Character  than  in  humility,  I  did  not  think  had  been  the  portion 
comparing  him  to  Mr.  Craggs.     P.  of  any  but  angels,  till  I  saw  this  gentleman.*] 

^  [The  architect  and  friend  of   Lord  Bur- 
lington.] 


350 


EPILOGUE  TO    THE  SATIRES. 


Thus  SoMERS^  once  and  Halifax,^  were  mine. 

Oft,  in  the  clear,  still  Mirror  of  Retreat, 

I  study'd  Shrewsbury,^  the  wise  and  great : 

Carleton's*  calm  Sense,  and  Stanhope's^  noble  Flame,     80 

ComparM,  and  knew  their  generous  End  the  same ; 

How  pleasing  Atterbury's^  softer  hour! 

How  shin'd  the  Soul,  unconquerM  in  the  Tow'r! 

How  can  I  Pult'ney,"  Chesterfield  ^  forget, 

While  Roman  Spirit  charms,  and  Attic  Wit :  85 

Argyll,  the  State's  whole  Thunder  born  to  wield, 

And  shake  alike  the  Senate  and  the  Field  :^ 

Or  Wyndham,!^  just  to  Freedom  and  the  Throne, 

The  Master  of  our  Passions,  and  his  own? 

Names,  which  I  long  have  lov'd,  nor  lov'd  in  vain,  90 

Ranked  with  their  Friends,  not  numbered  with  their  Train ; 

And  if  yet  higher  the  proud  List  should  end,^^ 

Still  let  me  say :  No  Follower,  but  a  Friend. 

Yet  think  not.  Friendship  only  prompts  my  lays ; 
I  follow  Virtue ;  where  she  shines,  I  praise  :  95 


1  Somers\  John  Lord  Somers  died  in  1716. 
He  had  been  Lord  Keeper  in  the  reign  of 
William  III.  who  took  from  him  the  seals  in 
1700.  The  author  had  the  honour  of  knowing 
him  in  1706.  A  faithful,  able,  and  incorrupt 
minister;  who,  to  the  qualities  of  a  consummate 
statesman,  added  those  of  a  man  of  Learning 
and  Politeness.     P. 

2  Halifax\  A  peer,  no  less  distinguished  by 
his  love  of  letters  than  his  abilities  in  Parlia- 
ment. He  was  disgraced  in  1710,  on  the  Change 
of  Q.  Anne's  ministry.     P. 

3  Shrewsbury^  Charles  Talbot,  Duke  of 
Shrewsbury,  had  been  Secretary  of  state.  Em- 
bassador in  France,  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland, 
Lord  Chamberlain,  and  Lord  Treasurer.  He 
several  times  quitted  his  employments,  and  was 
often  recalled.     He  died  in  1718.     P. 

*  Carleton\  Henry  Boyle,  Lord  Carleton 
(nephew  of  the  famous  Robert  Boyle),  who 
was  Secretary  of  state  under  William  III.  and 
President  of  the  Council  under  Q.  Anne.     P. 

5  Stanhope\  James  Earl  Stanhope.  A  No- 
bleman of  equal  courage,  spirit,  and  learning. 
General  in  Spain,  and  Secretary  of  state.  P. 
[The  first  Earl  Stanhope,  and  the  uncle  of 
Chatham.] 

6  [Francis  Atterbury,  bishop  of  Rochester, 
the  friend  of  Pope  and  Swift  and  a  consistent 
Jacobite,  was  arrested  in  1722  on  a  charge  of 
treasonable  complicity  in  a  plot  for  bringing 
back  the  Pretender,  and  sentenced  to  banish- 
ment. He  joined  the  Pretender's  Court,  and 
for  some  time  directed  his  affairs.  He  died  in 
1731.] 


■^  [William  Pulteney  (Earl  of  Bath  in  1742), 
the  great  opponent  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole;  elo- 
quent as  an  orator  and  witty  as  a  pamphleteer.] 

8  Chesterfield']  Philip  Earl  of  Chesterfield, 
commonly  given  by  Writers  of  all  Parties  for  an 
EXAMPLE  to  the  Age  he  lives  in,  of  superior 
talents,  and  public  Virtue.  Warburton. 
[Philip  Dormer,  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  lord  lieu- 
tenant of  Ireland  in  1744  and  Secretary  of  State 
in  1747.  His  Irish  administration  is  the  highest 
point  in  his  political  career.  As  a  writer  he  is 
famous  for  the  sceptical  Letters  to  his  Son;  of 
his  wit  some  instances  are  given  in  Hayward's 
Essay  on  Lord  C] 

9  [This  Duke  of  Argyll,  after  defending  Scot- 
land against  the  Pretender's  invasion  of  1715, 
played  a  very  changeful  part  in  political  life; 
and  at  his  death  in  1744  was  one  of  the  chiefs  of 
the  opposition  against  the  Whigs.  The  two 
lines  in  the  text  are  said  to  have  been  added  in 
consequence  of  a  threat  of  the  Duke's  that  he 
would  run  any  man  through  the  body  who 
should  dare  to  use  his  name  in  an  invective.] 

10  Wyndhajn'\  Sir  William  Wyndham,  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer  under  Queen  Anne, 
made  early  a  considerable  figure;  but  since  a 
much  greater  both  by  his  ability  iand  eloquence, 
joined  with  the  utmost  judgment  and  temper. 
P.     [Bolingbroke's  friend.] 

1^  And  if  yet  higher,  etc.]  He  was  at  this 
time  honoured  with  the  esteem  and  favour  of  his 
Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales.  War- 
burton. 


EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES.  351 

Point  she  to  Priest  or  Elder,  Whig  or  Tory, 
Or  round  a  Quaker's  Beaver  cast  a  Glory. 
I  never  (to  my  sorrow  I  declare) 
Din'd  with  the  Man  of  Ross,^  or  my  Lord  May'r.^ 
Some,  in  their  choice  of  Friends  (nay,  look  not  grave)  100 

Have  still  a  secret  Bias  to  a  Knave: 
To  find  an  honest  man  I  beat  about, 
And  love  him,  court  him,  praise  him,  in  or  out. 
F.   Then  why  so  few  commended? 

P.   Not  so  fierce! 
Find  you  the  Virtue,  and  I  '11  find  the  Verse.  I05 

But  random  Praise  —  the  task  can  ne'er  be  done ; 
Each  Mother  asks  it  for  her  booby  Son, 
Each  Widow  asks  it  for  the  Best  of  Men, 
For  him  she  weeps,  and  him  she  weds  again. 
Praise  cannot  stoop,  like  Satire,  to  the  ground;  IIO 

The  Number  may  be  hang'd,  but  not  be  crown'd. 
Enough  for  half  the  Greatest  of  these  days. 
To  'scape  my  Censure,  not  expect  my  Praise. 
And  they  not  Rich?  what  more  can  they  pretend? 
Dare  they  to  hope  a  Poet  for  their  Friend?  1 15 

What  Rich'lieu  wanted,  Louis  scarce  could  gain,* 
And  what  young  Ammon  wish'd,  but  wish'd  in  vain. 
No  Pow'r  the  Muse's  Friendship  can  command ; 
No  Pow'r,  when  Virtue  claims  it,  can  withstand : 
To  Cato,  Virgil  pay'd  one  honest  line  ;  *  120 

0  let  my  Country's  Friends  illumine  mine! 

—  What  are  you  thinking?     F.    'Faith  the  thought  's  no  sin: 

1  think  your  Friends  are  out,  and  would  be  in. 

P.    If  merely  to  come  in.  Sir,  they  go  out, 
The  way  they  take  is  strangely  round  about.  1 25 

F.   They  too  may  be  corrupted,  you  '11  allow? 

P.    I  only  call  those  Knaves  who  are  so  now. 

Is  that  too  little?     Come  then,  I  '11  comply  — 
Spirit  oi  Arnalll^  aid  me  while  I  lie. 

CoBHAM  's  a  Coward,  Polwarth  ^  is  a  Slave,  I30 

And  Lyttelton  a  dark,  designing  Knave, 
St.  John  has  ever  been  a  wealthy  Fool  — 
But  let  me  add.  Sir  Robert  's  mighty  dull, 
Has  never  made  a  Friend  in  private  life. 
And  was,  besides,  a  Tyrant  to  his  Wife.''  135 

1  [Cf.  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  in.]  ^  Spirit  of  A  mall/]    Look  for  him  in  his 

2  [Sir  John  Barnard.    Cf.  ante,  Bk.  i.  Ep.  ii.     place.     Dune.  B.  ii.  v.  315.     P. 

V.  85.]  6  Polwarth']     The  Hon.  Hugh  Hume,  Son 

3  Louis  scarce  could  gain i]  By  this  expres-  of  Alexander  Earl  of  Marchmont,  Grandson  of 
sion  finely  insinuating,  that  the  great  Boileau  Patrick  Earl  of  Marchmont,  and  distinguished, 
always  falls  below  himself  in  those  passages  like  them,  in  the  cause  of  Liberty.  P.  [After- 
where  he  flatters  his  Master.     Warburton.  wards  one  of  Pope's  Executors.] 

*  To  Cato,  Virgil  pay'd  one  honest  line;]  It  '^  Walpole's  maxim  was  *  to  go  his  own  way, 

is  in  the  Mn.  [viii.  670]  His  dantem  jura  Cat-    and  let  madam  go  hers.'     Carruthers, 
onent.     Warburton, 


352  EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES, 

But  pray,  when  others  praise  him,  do  I  blame? 
Call  Verres,  Wolsey,  any  odious  name? 
Why  rail  they  then,  if  but  a  Wreath  of  mine, 
Oh  All-accomplish'd  St.  John!  deck  thy  shrine? 

What  ?  shall  each  spur-galPd  Hackney  of  the  day,  140 

When  Paxton  gives  him  double  Pots  and  Pay, 
Or  each  new-pensionM  Sycophant,  pretend 
To  break  my  Windows,  if  I  treat  a  Friend  ? 
Then  wisely  plead,  to  me  they  meant  no  hurt, 
But  't  was  my  Guest  at  whom  they  threw  the  dirt?  145 

Sure,  if  I  spare  the  Minister,  no  rules 
Of  Honour  bind  me,  not  to  maul  his  Tools ; 
Sure,  if  they  cannot  cut,  it  may  be  said 
His  Saws  are  toothless,  and  his  Hatchet 's  Lead. 

It  anger'd  Turenne,  once  upon  a  day,  150 

To  see  a  Footman  kicked  that  took  his  pay : 
But  when  he  heard  th'  Affront  the  Fellow  gave, 
Knew  one  a  Man  of  Honour,  one  a  Knave ; 
The  prudent  GenVal  turned  it  to  a  jest. 

And  beggM,  he  M  take  the  pains  to  kick  the  rest :  155 

Which  not  at  present  having  time  to  do  — 
F.    Hold,  Sir!  for  God's  sake  where  's  th'  Affront  to  you? 
Against  your  worship  when  had  S — k  writ  ?  ^ 
Or  P — ge  pourM  forth  the  Torrent  of  his  Wit?^ 
Or  grant  the  Bard  whose  distich  all  commend  ^  160 

\In  Pow'r  a  Servant^  out  of  Pow^r  a  frtend~\  ^ 
To  W — le  guilty  of  some  venial  sin  ; 
What 's  that  to  you  who  ne'er  was  out  nor  in? 

The  Priest  whose  Flattery  be-dropt  the  Crown,^ 
How  hurt  he  you?  he  only  stain'd  the  Gown.  165 

And  how  did,  pray,  the  florid  Youth  ^  offend,"^ 
Whose  Speech  you  took,  and  gave  it  to  a  Friend  ? 
P.    'Faith,  it  imports  not  much  from  whom  it  came  ;       'I 
Whoever  borrowed,  could  not  be  to  blame,  > 

Since  the  whole  House  did  afterwards  the  same.  J  170 

Let  Courtly  Wits  to  Wits  afford  supply, 
As  Hog  to  Hog  in  huts  of  Westphaly ; 
q"  If  one,  thro'  Nature's  Bounty  or  his  Lord's, 

Has  what  the  frugal,  dirty  soil  affords, 

1  Dr.  Wm.  Sherlock,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  and  *  [From  a  poem  addressed  by  Doddington  to 
the  bete  noire  of  the  Nonjurors  in  the  reign  of    Walpole.     Am.  Ed?[ 

William  III.]  ^  fhe  Priest,  etc.]  Spoken  not  of  any  partic- 

2  [Judge  Page.  IVarton.}  [Sir  Francis  Page,  ular  priest,  but  of  many  priests.  P.  [Meaning 
who  seems  to  have  deserved  his  sobriquet  of  Dr.  Alured  Clarke,  who  wrote  a  panegyric  on 
*  the  hanging  judge.'     He   died,   according  to  Queen  Caroline.]      JVartoft. 

Carruthers,  in  1741.]  '^  Lord   Hervey.      Alluding   to  his   painting 

3  the  Bard]  A  verse  taken  out  of  a  poem  himself.  Bowles.  [Croker  says  "  Young  Henry 
to  Sir  R.  W.     P.    By  Lord   Melcombe   [Bubb    Fox."     Am.  Ed.] 

Doddington].  Wartoji.  Some  years  afterwards  '^  And  how  did,  etc.]  This  seems  to  allude 
Lord  M.  addressed  the  same  epistle  to  Lord  to  a  complaint  made  v.  71  of  the  preceding  Dia- 
Bute.     Bowles.  logue.    P. 


EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES,  353 

From  him  the  next  receives  it,  thick  or  thin,  175 

As  pure  a  mess  almost  as  it  came  in ; 

The  blessed  benefit,  not  there  confinM, 

Drops  to  the  third,  who  nuzzles  close  behind ; 

From  tail  to  mouth,  they  feed  and  they  carouse : 

The  last  full  fairly  gives  it  to  the  Hoitse.  180 

F.   This  filthy  simile,  this  beastly  line 
Quite  turns  my  stomach  — 

P.    So  does  FlattVy  mine; 
And  all  your  courtly  Civet-cats  can  vent. 
Perfume  to  you,  to  me  is  Excrement. 

But  hear  me  further  —  Japhet,  't  is  agreed,  185 

Writ  not,  and  Chartres  ^  scarce  could  write  or  read, 
In  all  the  Courts  of  Pindus  guiltless  quite ; 
But  Pens  can  forge,  my  Friend,  that  cannot  write ; 
And  must  no  Egg  in  Japhet's  face  be  thrown. 
Because  the  Deed  he  forg'd  was  not  my  own?  190 

Must  never  Patriot  then  declaim  at  Gin,^ 
Unless,  good  man!  he  has  been  fairly  in? 
No  zealous  Pastor  blame  a  failing  Spouse, 
Without  a  staring  Reason  on  his  brows? 

And  each  Blasphemer  quite  escape  the  rod,  195 

Because  the  insult  's  not  on  Man,  but  God? 

I     Ask  you  what  Provocation  I  have  had? 
The  strong  Antipathy  of  Good  to  Bad. 
When  Truth  or  Virtue  an  Affront  endures, 
Th'  Affront  is  mine,  my  friend,  and  should  be  yours.  200 

Mine  as  a  Foe  professM  to  false  Pretence, 
Who  think  a  Coxcomb's  Honour  like  his  Sense ; 
Mine,  as  a  Friend  to  ev'ry  worthy  mind ; 
And  mine  as  Man,  who  feel  for  all  mankind. ^ 
F.    You  're  strangely  proud. 

P.   So  proud,  I  am  no  Slave :  "j  205 

So  impudent,  I  own  myself  no  Knave  :  > 

So  odd,  my  Country's  Ruin  makes  me  grave.  J 

Yes,  I  am  proud  ;  I  must  be  proud  to  see 
Men  not  afraid  of  God,  afraid  of  me  :  "^ 
\     Safe  from  the  Bar,  the  Pulpit,  and  the  Throne,  210 

'.    Yet  touch'd  and  sham'd  by  Ridicule  alone. 
O  sacred  weapon!  left  for  Truth's  defence. 
Sole  Dread  of  Folly,  Vice,  and  Insolence! 
To  all  but  Heav'n-directed  hands  deny'd, 

The  Muse  may  give  thee,  but  the  Gods  must  guide :  215 

Rev'rent  I  touch  thee!  but  with  honest  zeal, 

1  Japhet ^Chartres\    See  the    Epistle  to  kind.'\    From  Terence:  "Homo  sum:  humani 
Lord  Bathurst.     P.  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto."     P. 

2  [The  Gin  Act,  passed  in  1731,  was  repealed         *  [Then  let  him  boast  that  honourable  crime 
in  1743.]  Of  making  those  who  fear  not  God,  fear  Him. 

^  And  mine  as  Man^  who  feel  for  all  man-    Lord  Hervey's  Difference  between  Verbal  and 

Practical  Virtue ^  &='c.\ 

2A 


354  EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES. 


K. 


To  rouse  the  Watchmen  of  the  public  Weal ; 
To  Virtue's  work  provoke  the  tardy  Hall, 
And  goad  the  Prelate  slumbering  in  his  Stall. 
Ye  tinsel  Insects!  whom  a  Court  maintains,  220 

That  counts  your  Beauties  only  by  your  Stains, 
,'     ^  Spin  all  your  Cobwebs  ^  o'er  the  Eye  of  Day! 

,  a.  The  Muse's  wing  shall  brush  you  all  away  : 

I  All  his  Grace  preaches,  all  his  Lordship  sings, 

'  .  All  that  makes  Saints  of  Queens,  and  Gods  of  Kings.  225 

1  All,  all  but  Truth,  drops  dead-born  from  the  Press, 
\  Like  the  last  Gazette,  or  the  last  Address. ^ 
When  black  Ambition  stains  a  public  Cause,^ 
A  Monarch's  sword  when  mad  Vain-glory  draws. 
Not  Waller's  Wreath  can  hide  the  Nation's  Scar,  230 

Nor  Boileau  turn  the  Feather  to  a  Star.  ^ 

Not  so,  when  diadem'd  with  rays  divine, 
Touch'd  with  the  Flame  that  breaks  from  Virtue's  Shrine, 
Her  Priestless  Muse  forbids  the  Good  to  die, 
And  opes  the  Temple  of  Eternity.  235 

There,  other  Trophies  deck  the  truly  brave. 
Than  such  as  Anstis  ^  casts  into  the  Grave ; 
Far  other  Stars  than  *  and  *  *  wear. 
And  may  descend  to  Mordington  from  Stair  :  ^ 
(Such  as  on  Hough's"^  unsully'd  Mitre  shine,  240 

Or  beam,  good  Digby,"^  from  a  heart  like  thine) 
Let  Envy  howL  while  Heav'n's  whole  Chorus  sings, 
And  bark  at  Honour  not  conferr'd  by  Kings ; 
Let  Flat  fry  sickening  see  the  Incense  rise. 
Sweet  to  the  World,  and  grateful  to  the  Skies :  245 

'  Cobwebs]  Weak  and  slight  sophistry  against  que  le  Roy  porte  ordinairement  a  son  Chapeau, 

virtue  and  honour.     Thin  colours  over  vice,  as  et  qui  est  en  effet  une  espece  de  Comete,  fatale 

unable  to  hide  the  light  of  Truth,  as  cobwebs  to  a  nos  ennemis."    P. 
shade  the  sun.     P.  ^  Anstis\  The  chief  Herald  at  Arms.     It  is 

2  After  V.  227  in  the  MS.  the  custom,  at  the  funeral  of  great  peers,  to  cast 

*  Where  's  now  the  Star  that  lighted  Charles  to  into  the  grave  the  broken  staves  and  ensigns  of 

rise?  honour.     P. 
—  With  that  which  follow'd  Julius  to  the  skies.  ^  Stair\     John  Dalrymple,   Earl   of   Stair, 

Angels,  that  watch'd  the  Royal  Oak  so  well.  Knight  of  the  Thistle;   served  in  all  the  wars 

How  chanc'd  ye  nod,  when  luckless  Sorel  fell?  under  the  Duke  of  Marlborough;  and  afterwards 

Hence,  lying  miracles!  reduc'd  so  low  as  Ambassador  in  France.     P.     [Bennet,  who 

As  to  the  regal-touch,  and  papal-toe;  supplies  the  blanks  in  v.  239  by  the  names  of 

Hence  haughty  Edgar's  title  to  the  Main,  Kent  and  Grafton,  has  *  some  notion  that  Lord 

Britain's  to  France,  and  thine  to  India,  Spain! '  Mordington  kept  a  gaming-house.']     [Crocker 

Warburton.  insists  that  the  asterisks  stand  for  "George" 

*  When  black  Ambition,  etc.]     The  cause  and  "  Frederick."    Atn.  Ed,] 
of  Cromwell  in  the  civil  war  of  England;   (v.         '^//^«^-^a«<afZ?z^3y]  Dr.  John  Hough,  Bishop 

229)  of  Louis  XIV.  in  his  conquest  of  the  Low  of  Worcester,  and  the  Lord  Digby.     The  one  an 

Countries.     P.     [Waller's    Panegyric    to    my  assertor  of  the  Church  of  England  in  opposition 

Lord  Protector  was  written  about  1654.]  to  the  false  measures  of  King  James  II.     The 

^  Nor  Boileau  turn  the  Feather  to  a  Star.]  other  as  firmly  attached  to  the   cause  of  that 

See  his  Ode  on  Namur;  where  (to  use  his  own  King.     Both  acting  out  of  principle,  and  equally 

words)  "  il  a  fait  un  Astre  de  la  Plume  blanche  men  of  honour  and  virtue.     P. 


EPILOGUE  TO   THE  SATIRES.  355 

1  Truth  guards  the  Poet,  sanctifies  the  line, 
And  makes  immortal.  Verse  as  mean  as  mine. 

Yes,  the  last  Pen  for  Freedom  let  me  draw, 
When  Truth  stands  trembling  on  the  edge  of  Law ; 
Here,  Last  of  Britons !  let  your  Names  be  read  ;  250 

Are  none,  none  living?  let  me  praise  the  Dead, 
And  for  that  Cause  which  made  your  Fathers  shine, 
Fall  by  the  Votes  of  their  degenerate  Line. 

Fr.   Alas!  alas!  pray  end  what  you  began, 
And  write  next  winter  more  Essays  on  Many  255 

1  Ver.  255  in  the  MS.  as  to  live  to  see.    Could  he  have  hoped  to  have 

Quit,  quit  these  themes,  and  write  Essays  on  amended  any,  he  had  continued  those  attacks; 

Man.  but  bad  men  were  grown  so  shameless  and  so 

This  was  the  last  poem  of  the  kind  printed  powerful,  that  Ridicule  was  become  as  unsafe 

by  our  author,  with  a  resolution  to  publish  no  as  it  was  ineffectual.     The  Poem  raised  him,  as 

more;  but  to  enter  thus,  in  the  most  plain  and  he  knew  it  would,  some  enemies;    but  he  had 

solemn  manner  he   could,   a   sort  of  protest  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the  approbation  of 

against  that  insuperable  corruption  and  deprav-  good  men,  and  the  testimony  of  his  own  con- 

ity  of  manners,  which  he  had  been  so  unhappy  science.    P. 


THE    DUNCIAD. 


[It  may  fairly  be  doubted  whether  the  mystification  in  which  every  step  con« 
nected  with  the  publication  of  the  various  editions  of  the  Dunciad  was  intention- 
ally involved  by  Pope,  has  not  answered  an  end  beyond  that  proposed  to  himself 
by  the  poet,  and  provided  a  tangle  of  literary  difficulties,  which  no  learned  inge- 
nuity will  ever  suffice  entirely  to  unravel.  In  the  second  volume  of  Notes  and 
Queries  for  1854  will  be  found  an  animated  and  sustained  controversy  on  the 
subject,  which  even  the  editorial  summing-up  leaves  to  a  certain  degree  in  sus- 
pense. It  is  therefore  necessary  in  the  following  Remarks  to  confine  ourselves  to 
such  an  enumeration  of  editions  as  will  suffice  to  indicate  the  main  history  of  the 
work. 

The  earliest  known  edition  of  the  Dunciad  (in  three  Books),  and  in  all  proba- 
bility the  earliest  actual  edition,  was  published  in  May  1728.  It  bore  the  frontis- 
piece of  an  Owl.  The  Edition  with  the  notes  Variorum  and  the  Prolegomena  of 
Martinus  Scriblerus  (accompanied  by  the  Letter  to  the  Publisher,  infra,  p.  363, 
signed  William  Cleland)  appeared  in  1729.  It  bore  the  vignette  of  an  ass  laden 
with  a  pile  of  books,^  with  an  owl  perched  on  the  top  of  these.  It  contained 
nearly  all  the  pieces  with  which  the  poem  is  surrounded  in  subsequent  editions, 2 
though  these  were  afterwards  varied  as  to  both  length  and  arrangement.  The 
New  Dunciad,  'as  it  was  found  in  the  year  1741,'  appeared  in  1742;  and  this  is 
the  first  edition  of  the  Fourth  Book.  The  edition  forming  the  third- volume  of 
Dodsley's  edition  of  Pope's  Works,  in  which  Colley  Gibber  was  by  mere  *  procla- 
mation' (see  p.  Iv.)  substituted  as  hero  for  Theobald,  appeared  in  1743;  and  in 
the  same  year  was  published  an  edition  *  according  to  the  complete  copy  found 
in  the  year  1742,'  which  contained  Warburton's  Dissertation  under  the  name  of 
Ricardus  Aristarchus,  on  the  Hero  of  the  Poem,  and  an  Advertisefnent  by  the 
same  hand  (for  which  see  p.  368). 

It  is  uncertain  what  amount  of  influence  should  be  ascribed  to  Swift  upon  the 
gradual  growth  cf  the  original  idea  of  the  Dunciad.  *  Without  you,'  Pope  wrote 
to  Swift,  Nov.  1 2th,  1728,  'the  poem  had  never  been.'  It  cannot  however  be 
doubted  that  the  original  idea  itself  was  Pope's  own,  except  in  so  far  as  it  was 
founded  upon  the  supposed  contents  of  the  Margites  ascribed  to  Homer  (see 
note  to  p.  368),  and  upon  Dryden's  satire  of  MacFlecknoe.  But  MacFlecknoe 
(like  Margites  as  it  would  seem)  is  only  a  Satire  upon  one  dull  poet;  Pope  from 
the  first  appears  to  have  a  wider  scheme;  for  in  his  correspondence  with  Boling- 
broke  and  Swift  the  embryo  poem  is  mentioned  under  the  titles  of  *Dulness,' 

1   [The  works  of  Welsted,  Ward,  Dennis,         2  [The  *  Testimonies  of  Authors,'  arguments 
Theobald,     Oldmixon     and    others,     and    the    and  indices.] 
Mist's  Journal  being   labelled  with   their  au- 
thors* names.] 

356 


THE  DUNCIAD,  357 

or  the  *  Progress  of  Dulness.'  Mr.  Carruthers  points  out  that  the  date  of  the 
action  of  the  poem  is  1720,  when  Sir  George  Thorold  was  Lord  Mayor;  and  that 
this  circumstance  and  the  introduction  of  several  dunces  long  dead  '  seem  to  point 
to  a  period  anterior  to  1727  '  as  the  time  when  Pope  commenced  to  work  out  his 
conception.  In  1727,  however,  when  Swift  was  in  England,  the  main  labour  of 
the  execution  was  accomplished  ;  and  to  Swift,  who  had  watched  over  its  birth 
and  influenced  its  character,  the  first  complete  edition  (that  of  April  1729)  was 
duly  dedicated.  The  prolegomena  of  Scriblerus  and  the  notes  Variorum  were 
the  work  of  several  hands,  and  Swift  (see  Pope's  letter  to  him  of  June  28th, 
1728)  was  specially  invited  to  exercise  his  wit  in  a  favourite  direction.  The 
deception  practised  upon  the  public  in  this  matter  was  an  innocent  fraud.  But 
such  will  hardly  be  the  judgment  which  must  be  passed  on  the  pretence  as  to  the 
authorship  of  the  letter  signed  *  William  Cleland.'  This  Cleland  was  a  real  per- 
sonage, a  Major  in  the  Army  and  a  friend  of  the  poet's;  but  it  is  impossible  to 
doubt  the  correctness  of  Mr.  Carruthers's  conjecture,  that  at  the  most  he  re-cast 
*  in  a  somewhat  freer  and  less  author-like  style '  what  the  author  had  himself 
substantially  dictated. 

The  original  hero  of  the  Dunciad  was  Lewis  Theobald.  He  had  earned  this 
eminence  by  a  quarrel  originating  in  Pope's  edition  of  Shakspere,  which  had 
made  its  appearance  in  1725.  In  the  following  year  Theobald  had  published  a 
pamphlet  under  the  title  of  Shakspere  Restored^  or  a  Specimen  of  the  many  Errors 
committed  as  well  as  unamended  by  Mr.  Pope  in  his  late  edition  of  this  Poet.  Theo- 
bald (whose  own  edition  of  Shakspere  was  not  published  till  1733)  was  in  the 
habit  of  contributing  notes  on  passages  of  Shakspere  to  a  weekly  paper  called 
Misfs  Journal —  '"  crucifying  Shakspere  once  a  week,'  according  to  a  line  omitted 
from  the  later  editions  of  the  Dunciad.  He  translated  several  Greek  plays,  and 
adapted  Shakspere's  Richard  II.  for  the  stage,  besides  producing  several  original 
pantomimes  and  palming  off  his  tragedy  of  the  Double  Falsehood  upon  the  world 
as  a  Shaksperian  original.  Upon  the  whole  he  constituted  a  very  suitable  hero 
for  a  Dunce-epic;  and  less  injustice  was  done  to  him  by  the  selection  of  his  well- 
worn  name  for  that  office,  than  by  Dryden  to  the  worthy  Flecknoe. 

Theobald  accepted  his  castigation  very  goodhumouredly;  but  such  was  not  the 
spirit  in  which  the  other  petty  writers  sacrificed  by  Pope  met  their  fate.  An  end- 
less series  of  retaliations,  or  attempts  at  retaliation  ensued,  in  which  Dennis  was 
not  behind-hand,  and  which  were  published  in  a  collective  form  by  Smedley. 
Pope  and  his  friends  retorted  by  an  ironical  series  of  criticisms  in  the  Grub-street 
Journal^  which  lasted  from  1730  to  1737;  and  concerning  which  see  Introduc- 
tory Me7?ioir.  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu,  who  retorted  upon  the  insult  offered  to 
her  by  a  lampoon  entitled  a  Pop  upon  Pope.,  appears  to  have  remained  unanswered. 

The  fourth  book  of  the  Dunciad  vi2,%  not  published  till  March  1742,  when  Pope 
was  in  the  constant  society  and  under  the  constant  influence  of  Warburton.  *The 
encouragement,'  writes  Pope  to  Warburton  on  Dec.  28,  1742,  'you  gave  me  to 
add  the  fourth  book  first  determined  me  to  do  so;  and  the  approbation  you 
seemed  to  give  to  it  was  what  singly  determined  me  to  print  it.'  CoUey  Gibber, 
against  whom  Pope  had  borne  a  grudge  ever  since  the  mishaps  which  had  attended 
his  sole  dramatic  attempt,  and  who  had  recently  succeeded  to  the  Laureateship, 


358  THE  DUNCIAD. 

was  sarcastically  alluded  to  in  v.  20.  He  retorted  by  publishing  a  Letter  whic^  ~ 
goaded  Pope  into  sufficient  resentment  to  induce  him,  in  a  new  edition  of  the 
entire  poem,  to  dethrone  Theobald  and  place  Gibber  in  his  stead.  To  help  the 
scheme,  Warburton  contributed  the  prefatory  dissertation  Ricardus  Aristarchus 
of  the  Hero  of  the  Poem  and  notes,  to  the  new  edition.  Gibber  replied  by  another 
epistle;  but  the  change  was  made,  and  Gibber,  not  Theobald,  remains  the  hero  of 
the  Dunciad. 

The  above  is  the  barest  outline  of  the  history  of  this  immortal  satire.  Else- 
where must  be  read,  by  those  interested  in  such  matters,  the  whole  narrative  of 
the  mystifications  which  preceded,  accompanied,  and  followed,  its  publication  — 
of  the  proclamation  of  the  Ass-Dunciad  as  the  only  true  edition,  of  the  prefaces 
and  introductions  and  excerpts  and  keys  (Gurll's  Key  will  be  found  occasionally 
quoted  in  the  notes)  and  commentaries,  issued  by  Pope  to  increase  the  notoriety 
of  his  work.  On  no  occasion  was  he  so  thoroughly  in  his  glory,  and  his  glory 
was  a  wasp's  nest  which  he  had  himself  agitated  into  uncontrollable  fury. 

As  the  Dunciad  stands,  it  has  a  unity,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  its  fourth 
book  was  added  at  a  later  date.  This  book  represents  the  fulfilment  of  the  proph- 
ecy of  its  predecessor;  fulfilment  and  prophecy  being  of  course  equally  imaginary. 
It  cannot  be  disputed  that  the  whole  poem  was  marred  by  the  author  to  gratify  his 
spleen  against  the  Laureate.  Gibber's  Apology  for  his  Life  is  too  well  known  a  book 
to  make  it  necessary  to  point  out  why  he  is  an  inappropriate  hero  for  a  Satire  on 
Dulness.  It  is  indeed  full  of  vanity  and  egotism;  but  at  the  same  time  distin- 
guished by  vivacity  throughout,  and  in  many  passages  by  really  skilful  pleading. 
He  is  a  play-writer  not  only  of  uncommon  skill,  but  of  genuine  though  not  very 
deep  humour;  and  the  tastes  to  which  he  occasionally  pandered  as  manager  of 
Drury  Lane  were  those  of  the  times,  which  he  could  hardly  be  expected  to  con- 
trol. He  adapted  Shakspere  so  successfully  that  his  '  improvements  '  were  retained 
by  Garrick,  and  still  in  one  tragedy  at  least  are  universally  followed  on  the  stage; 
and  at  all  events  in  this  respect  he  sinned  no  worse  than  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buck- 
inghamshire, and  a  hundred  others.  (Gibber  was  born  in  1671  and  died  in  1757; 
and  his  career  as  an  author  extends  over  not  less  than  half  a  century.)  But  neither 
Gibber  nor  Theobald  could  more  than  represent  extreme  specimens  of  the  genus 
to  which  in  some  degree  they  both  belonged;  they  were  merely  brought  into 
prominence  as  primi  inter  pares.  Not  an  individual  Dunce,  but  Dunces  in  gen- 
eral, are  the  theme  of  the  poet.  Herein  lies  the  justification  of  Pope's  Satire.  It 
has  frequently  been  argued  that  in  the  Dunciad  he  employs  his  satirical  powers, 
intensified  to  their  utmost  degree,  against  objects  undeserving  of  so  serious  an 
attack.  He  goes  back,  says  a  brilliant  critic,^  to  the  times  of  the  deluge,  he 
indulges  in  far-fetched  historical  tirades,  he  describes  at  length  the  reign  of  Dul- 
ness past,  present  and  future,  the  burning  of  the  Alexandria  library  by  the  Galiph 
Omar,  the  extinction  of  letters  by  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians  and  the  super- 
stitions of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  gradual  spread  and  continuing  encroach- 
ments of  the  reign  of  Insipidity  in  his  own  land  —  and  for  what  end  ?  To  crush 
a  petty  insect  like  Dennis,  whose  day,  like  that  of  all  ephemerce^  would  have  come 
to  an  end  soon  enough  in  any  case,  or  a  plodding  antiquary  like  Theobald,  or  a 

1  Taine. 


THE  DUNCIAD,  359 

trumpery  fribble  like  Gibber,  or  many  others  less  noteworthy,  and  therefore  less 
worthy  of  public  exposure,  than  even  these.  The  answer  to  such  reproaches 
seems  clear.  Where  Pope  mixed  up  personal  spleen,  personal  resentment  for 
affronts  real  or  imagined,  with  the  execution  of  his  self-imposed  duty  of  general 
literary  censor,  he  erred,  and  his  error  has  avenged  itself  upon  him  severely 
enough.  But  Dulness  was  an  enemy  worthy  of  his  steel.  She  is  the  natural  foe 
of  the  true  literary  mind,  and  the  true  literary  mind  was  typified  in  Pope  more 
strongly  than  perhaps  in  any  other  English  author.  His  hatred  and  contempt 
of  Dulness  is  the  most  prominent  characteristic  of  his  entire  career  as  an  author. 
She  is  a  monster  with  many  heads,  or  apologies  for  heads,  and  many  hands,  with 
a  pen  in  each.  It  was  of  little  avail  to  cut  off  a  single  head,  after  the  fashion  of 
Dryden.  Uno  avulso  non  deficit  alter.  A  crusade  against  the  whole  tribe  was 
necessary  to  satisfy  Pope's  heroic  indignation  against  the  irrepressible  enemy  of 
all  that  he  honoured  in  the  microcosm  which  to  him  was  his  world  —  in  the  world 
of  literature.  The  storm  which  Pope's  effort  created  was  of  course  unable  to  put 
an  end  to  the  tribe;  and  the  Philistines  of  literature  survived  in  the  ashes  of  their 
sires.  But  Pope's  Satire  cleared  the  atmosphere;  and  his  victims  and  their  suc- 
cessors have  never  entirely  recovered  from  its  effects. 

In  the  fourth  book  Pope,  instigated  by  the  influence  of  Warburton,  carried  the 
war  into  another  field.  The  Dunces  of  philosophy  and  theology  were  indeed,  and 
are,  as  fair  game  for  the  satirist  as  poetasters,  mad  antiquaries,  and  party-paid  his- 
torians. Moreover,  the  *  cant  of  liberalism '  which  prevailed  in  the  age  of  Boling- 
broke,  deserved  the  lash  no  less  than  the  cant  of  orthodoxy  which  prevailed  in  the 
age  of  Warburton.  But  while  literary  imbecility  and  pretension  were  patent  to 
the  keen  glance  of  Pope's  own  intellect,  in  questions  as  to  matters  such  as  those 
upon  which  he  touches  in  the  fourth  book,  he  was  too  apt  to  judge  and  sentence 
imperfect  knowledge,  or  at  best  second-hand  information;  and  the  fourth  book, 
though  it  contains  passages  of  genuine  nobility  and  true  elevation  of  feeling,  is 
unhappily  not  devoid  of  misrepresentations  and  perversions  of  which  the  root  is 
to  be  found  in  ignorance  rather  than  malice.  *  I  mean  this  new  edition  of  the 
Dunciad'  (containing  the  fourth  book),  writes  Pope  to  Warburton,  Nov.  27th, 
1742,  '  as  a  kind  of  prelude  or  advertisement  to  the  public,  of  your  Commentaries 
on  the  Essays  on  Man,  and  on  Criticism.  ...  I  have  a  particular  reason  to 
make  you  interest  yourself  in  me  and  my  writings.  It  will  cause  both  them  and 
me  to  make  the  better  figure  to  posterity.'  Posterity  has  judged  otherwise, 
Dennis,  Theobald  and  Gibber  were  Pope's  own  adversaries;  but  the  divines  and 
philosophers  whom  in  the  fourth  book  he  has  held  up  to  scorn  will  not  perma- 
nently be  judged  according  to  the  canons  set  up  by  the  moral  assessor  of  Pope's 
later  years.J 


360 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


PREFACE 

Prefixed  to  the  five  first  imperfect  Editions  of  the  DUNCIAD,  in  three  books, 
printed  at  Dublin  and  London,  in  octavo  and  duodecimo,  1727. 

The  Publisher!  to  the  Reader. 

It  will  be  found  a  true  observation,  tho'  somewhat  surprizing,  that  when  any 
scandal  is  vented  against  a  man  of  the  highest  distinction  and  character,  either 
in  the  state  or  in  literature,  the  public  in  general  afford  it  a  most  quiet  reception; 
and  the  larger  part  accept  it  as  favourably  as  if  it  were  some  kindness  done  to 
themselves :  whereas  if  a  known  scoundrel  or  blockhead  but  chance  to  be  touched 
upon,  a  whole  legion  is  up  in  arms,  and  it  becomes  the  common  cause  of  all  scrib- 
blers, booksellers,  and  printers  whatsoever. 

Not  to  search  too  deeply  into  the  reason  hereof,  I  will  only  observe  as  a  fact, 
that  every  week  for  these  two  months  past,  the  town  has  been  persecuted  with 
pamphlets,  adv^ertisements,  letters,  and  weekly  essays,  not  only  against  the  wit 
and  writings,  but  against  the  character  and  person  of  Mr.  Pope.  And  that  of  all 
those  men  who  have  received  pleasure  from  his  works,  which  by  modest  computa- 
tion may  be  about  a  hundred  thousand  ^  in  these  kingdoms  of  England  and  Ire- 


1  The  Publisher^  Who  he  was  is  uncertain; 
but  Edward  Ward  tells  us,  in  his  preface  to 
Durgen,  "  that  most  judges  are  of  opinion  this 
"  preface  is  not  of  English  extraction,  but  Hi- 
*' bernian,"  &c.  He  means  it  was  written  by 
Dr.  Swift,  who,  whether  publisher  or  not,  may 
be  said  in  a  sort  to  be  author  of  the  poem.  For 
when  he,  together  with  Mr.  Pope  (for  reasons 
specified  in  the  preface  to  their  Miscellanies)  de- 
termined to  own  the  most  trifling  pieces  in  which 
they  had  any  hand,  and  to  destroy  all  that  re- 
mained in  their  power;  the  first  sketch  of  this 
poem  was  snatched  from  the  fire  by  Dr.  Swift, 
who  persuaded  his  friend  to  proceed  in  it,  and 
to  him  it  was  therefore  inscribed.  But  the  occa- 
sion of  printing  it  was  as  follows: 

There  was  published  in  those  Miscellanies  a 
treatise  of  the  Bathos,  or  Art  of  Sinking  in  Po- 
etry, in  which  was  a  chapter,  where  the  species 
of  bad  writers  were  ranged  in  classes,  and  initial 
letters  of  names  prefixed,  for  the  most  part  at 
random.  But  such  was  the  Number  of  Poets 
eminent  in  that  art,  that  some  one  or  other  took 
every  letter  to  himself.  All  fell  into  sc  violent 
a  fuiy,  that  for  half  ':  year,  or  more,  the  com- 
mon Newspapers  (in  most  of  which  they  had 
some  property,  as  being  hired  vriters)  were 
filled  with  the  most  abusive  falsehoods  and  scur- 
rilities th^y  «^ould  possibly  devise;  a  liberty  no 
ways  to  be  wondered  at  in  those  people,  and  in 
those  papers,  that  for  many  years,  during  the 


uncontrolled  Licence  of  the  press,  had  aspersed 
almost  all  the  great  characters  of  the  age ;  and 
this  with  impunity,  their  own  persons  and  names 
being  utterly  secret  and  obscure.  This  gave 
Mr.  Pope  the  thought,  that  he  had  now  some 
opportunity  of  doing  good,  by  detecting  and 
dragging  into  light  these  common  Enemies  of 
mankind;  since  to  invalidate  this  universal  slan- 
der, it  sufficed  to  shew  what  contemptible  men 
were  the  authors  of  it.  He  was  not  without 
hopes,  that  by  manifesting  the  dulness  of  those 
who  had  only  malice  to  recommend  them ;  either 
the  booksellers  would  not  find  their  account  in 
employing  them,  or  the  men  themselves,  when 
discovered,  want  courage  to  proceed  in  so  un- 
lawful an  occupation.  This  it  was  that  gave 
birth  to  the  Diinciad;  and  he  thought  it  an  hap- 
piness, that,  by  the  late  flood  of  slander  on  him- 
self, he  had  acquired  such  a  peculiar  right  over 
their  Names  as  was  necessary  to  his  design.  P. 
2  about  a  hundred  tho7isand]  It  is  surpris- 
ing with  what  stupidity  this  preface,  which  is 
almost  a  continued  irony,  was  taken  by  those 
authors.  All  such  passages  as  these  were  un- 
derstood by  Curl,  Cook,  Cibber,  and  others,  to 
be  serious.  Hear  the  Laureate  (Letter  to  Mr. 
Pope,  p.  9).  "  Though  1  grant  the  Dunciad  a 
"better  poem  O-  its  kind  than  ever  was  writ; 
"  yet,  when  I  read  it  with  those  vain-glorious 
"  encumbrances  of  Notes  and  Remarks  upon  it, 
"  &c.,  it  is  amazing,  that  you,  who  have  writ 


THE  DUNCIAD.  361 

land;  (not  to  mention  Jersey,  Guernsey,  the  Orcades,  those  in  the  new  world  and 
foreigners,  who  have  translated  him  into  their  languages)  of  all  this  number  not 
a  man  hath  stood  up  to  say  one  word  in  his  defence. 

The  only  exception  is  the  author  of  the  following  poem,i  who  doubtless  had 
either  a  better  insight  into  the  grounds  of  this  clamour,  or  a  better  opinion  of 
Mr.  Pope's  integrity,  joined  with  a  greater  personal  love  for  him,  than  any  other 
of  his  numerous  friends  and  admirers.  « 

Farther,  that  he  was  in  his  peculiar  intimacy,  appears  from  the  knowledge  he 
manifests  of  the  most  private  authors  of  all  the  anonymous  pieces  against  him,  and 
from  his  having  in  this  poem  attacked  no  man  living,^  who  had  not  before  printed, 
or  published,  some  scandal  against  this  gentleman. 

How  I  came  possest  of  it,  i^  no  concern  to  the  reader;  but  it  would  have  been 
a  wrong  to  him  had  I  detained  the  publication;  since  those  names  which  are  its 
chief  ornaments  die  off  daily  so  fast,  as  must  render  it  too  soon  unintelligible.  If 
it  provoke  the  author  to  give  uo  a  more  perfect  edition,  I  have  my  end. 

Who  he  is  I  cannot  say^  and  (which  is  a  great  pity)  there  is  certainly  nothing 
in  his  style  ^  and  manner  of  writingp  ./hich  can  distinguish  or  discover  him :  For 
if  it  bears  any  resemblance  to  that  of  Mr.  Pope,  'tis  not  improbable  but  it  might 
be  done  on  purpose,  with  a  view  to  have  it  pass  for  his.  But  by  the  frequency  of 
his  allusions  to  Virgil,  and  a  laboured  (not  to  say  affected)  shortness  in  imitation 
of  him,  I  should  think  him  more  an  admirer  of  the  Roman  poet  than  of  the  Gre- 
cian, and  in  that  not  of  the  sane  taste  with  his  friend. 

I  have  been  well  informed,  that  this  work  was  the  labour  of  full  six  years  ^  of 
his  life,  and  that  he  wholly  retired  himself  from  all  the  avocations  and  pleasures 
of  the  world,  to  attend  diligently  to  its  correction  and  perfection;  and  six  years 
more  he  intended  to  bestow  upon  it,  as  it  should  seem  by  this  verse  of  Statins,^ 
which  was  cited  at  the  head  of  his  manuscript. 

Oh  miht  I  issenos  multum  vigilata  per  annos, 
Duncia! 

Hence  also  we  learned  the  true  title  of  the  poem;  which  with  the  same  cer- 
tainty as  we  call  that  of  Homer  the  Iliad,  of  Virgil  the  iEneid,  of  Camoens 
the  Lusiad,  we  may  pronounce,  could  have  been,  and  can  be  no  other  than 

The  DUNCIAD. 

It  is  styled  Heroic^  as  being  doubly  so;  not  only  with  respect  to  its  nature, 
which,  according  to  the  best  rules  of  the  ancients,  and  strictest  ideas  of  the  mod- 

"  with   such   masterly   spirit    upon   the  ruling  whose  dulness,  impudent  scurrility,  or  self-con- 

**  Passion,  should  be  go  blind  a  slave  to  your  ceit,  all  iiankind  screed  to  have  justly  entitled 

**  own,  as  not  to  see  how  far  a  low  avarice  of  them  to  a  place  i  i  the  Dunciad.     P. 
^^  Praise,'^   &r>c.  (taking  it  for  -ranted  that  the  ^  the-ye  js  certainly  nothing  in  his  style, 

notes  of  Scriblerus  and  others,  v.ere  the  authors'  c^'c]     This  irony  had  snail  effect  in  concealing 

own) .     P.  the  author.     The  Dunciad,  imperfect  as  it  was, 

1  the  author  of  the  following  poem,  &r'c.'\  had  not  been  ^.ublisl  :d  two  days,  but  the  whole 
A  very  plain  irony,  speaking  of  Mr.  Pope  him-  Town  gave  it  i  j  Mr.  Pope.     P. 

self.     P.  *  the  labour  ,  'fM  six  years,  6}'c.'\     This 

2  The  publisher  in  these  words  went  a  little  v/as   also  hcnestly   and   seriously  believed    by 
too  far;  but  it  is  certain,  whatever  names  the  divers  gentlemen     f  the  Dunciad.     P. 
reader  finds  that  are  unknown  to  him,  are  of  ^  \Theb.  lib.  Xii.  v.  810.J 

such;  and  the  exception  is  only  of  two  or  three. 


362  THE  DUNCIAD, 

erns,  is  critically  such;  but  also  with  regard  to  the  heroical  disposition  and  high 
courage  of  the  writer,  who  dared  to  stir  up  such  a  formidable,  irritable,  and 
implacable  race  of  mortals. 

There  may  arise  some  obscurity  in  chronology  from  the  Names  in  the  poem,  by 
the  inevitable  removal  of  some  authors,  and  insertion  of  others,  in  their  niches. 
For  whoever  will  consider  the  unity  of  the  whole  design  will  be  sensible,  that  the 
poem  was  not  ?nade  for  these  authors,  but  these  authors  for  the  poefn.  I  should 
judge  that  they  were  clapped  in  as  they  rose,  fresh  and  fresh,  and  changed  from 
day  to  day;  in  like  manner  as  when  the  old  boughs  wither,  we  thrust  new  ones 
into  a  chimney. 

I  would  not  have  the  reader  too  much  troubled  or  anxious,  if  he  cannot  decipher 
them;  since  when  he  shall  have  found  them  out,  he  will  probably  know  no  more 
of  the  persons  than  before. 

Yet  we  judged  it  better  to  preserve  them  as  they  are,  than  to  change  them  for 
fictitious  names;  by  which  the  satire  would  only  be  multiplied,  and  applied  to 
many  instead  of  one.  Had  the  hero,  for  instance,  been  called  Codrus,^  how  many 
would  have  affirmed  him  to  have  been  Mr.  T.,  Mr.  E.,  Sir  R.  B.  «&c.  but  now  all 
that  unjust  scandal  is  saved  by  calling  him  by  a  name,  which  by  good  luck  happens 
to  be  that  of  a  real  person. 

ADVERTISEMENT 
To  the  First  Edition  with  Notes,  in  Quarto,  1729. 

It  will  be  sufficient  to  say  of  this  edition,  that  the  reader  has  here  a  much  more  cor- 
rect and  complete  copy  of  the  DUNCIAD,  than  has  hitherto  appeared.  I  cannot  answer 
but  some  mistakes  may  have  slipt  into  it ;  but  a  vast  number  of  others  will  be  prevented 
by  the  names  being  now  not  only  set  at  length,  but  justified  by  the  authorities  and  reasons 
given.  I  make  no  doubt,  the  author's  own  motive  to  use  real  rather  than  feigned  names, 
was  his  care  to  preserve  the  innocent  from  any  false  application ;  whereas  in  the  former 
editions,  which  had  no  more  than  the  initial  letters,  he  was  made,  by  keys  printed  here, 
to  hurt  the  inoffensive ;  and  (what  was  worse)  to  abuse  his  friends,  by  an  impression 
at  Dublin. 

The  commentary  which  attends  this  poem  was  sent  me  from  several  hands,  and  con- 
sequently must  be  unequally  written  ;  yet  will  have  one  advantage  over  most  commen- 
taries, that  it  is  not  made  upon  conjectures,  or  at  a  remote  distance  of  time:  And  the 
reader  cannot  but  derive  one  pleasure  from  the  very  Obscurity  of  the  persons  it  treats 
of,  that  it  partakes  of  the  nature  of  a  Secret,  which  most  people  love  to  be  let  into,  though 
the  men  or  the  things  be  ever  so  inconsiderable  or  trivial. 

Of  the  Persons  it  was  judged  proper  to  give  some  account:  For  since  it  is  only  in 
this  monument  that  they  must  expect  to  survive  (and  here  survive  they  will,  as  long  as 
the  English  tongue  shall  remain  such  as  it  was  in  the  reigns  of  Queen  ANNE  and  King 
George)  it  seemed  but  humanity  to  bestow  a  word  or  two  upon  each,  just  to  tell  what 
he  was,  what  he  writ,  when  he  lived,  and  when  he  died. 

If  a  word  or  two  more  are  added  upon  the  chief  offenders,  'tis  only  as  a  paper  pinned 
upon  the  breast,  to  mark  the  enormities  for  which  they  suffered ;  lest  the  correction 
only  should  be  remembered,  and  the  crime  forgotten. 

In  some  articles  it  was  thought  sufficient,  barely  to  transcribe  from  Jacob,  Curl,  and 
other  writers  of  their  own  rank,  who  were  much  better  acquainted  with  them  than  any 
of  the  authors  of  this  comment  can  pretend  to  be.     Most  of  them  had  drawn  each  other's 

1  [Codrus,  a  name  taken  from  Juvenal,  was    Poem    entitled    Successio;    in  Miscellaneous 
the  designation  under  which  Pope  at  an  early    Poems.^ 
age  satirised  Settle.     See  To  the  author  of  a 


THE  DUNCIAD,  363 

characters  on  certain  occasions ;  but  the  few  here  inserted  are  all  that  could  be  saved 
from  the  general  destruction  of  such  works. 

Of  the  part  of  Scriblerus  I  need  say  nothing;  his  manner  is  well  enough  known,  and 
approved  by  all  but  those  who  are  too  much  concerned  to  be  judges. 

The  Imitations  of  the  Ancients  are  added,  to  gratify  those  who  either  never  read,  or 
may  have  forgotten  them  ;  together  with  some  of  the  parodies  and  allusions  to  the  most 
excellent  of  the  Moderns.  If,  from  the  frequency  of  the  former,  any  man  think  the  poem 
too  much  a.  Cento,l  our  Poet  will  but  appear  to  have  done  the  same  thing  in  jest  which 
Boileau  did  in  earnest ;  and  upon  which  Vida,  Fracastorius,  and  many  of  the  most 
eminent  Latin  poets,  professedly  valued  themselves. 


A  LETTER  TO  THE   PUBLISHER, 

OCCASIONED  BY  THE 

FIRST  CORRECT  EDITION   OF  THE  DUNCIAD. 

It  is  with  pleasure  I  hear,  that  you  have  procured  a  correct  copy  of  the  DUNCIAD, 
which  the  many  surreptitious  ones  have  rendered  so  necessary ;  and  it  is  yet  with  more, 
that  I  am  informed  it  will  be  attended  with  a  Commentary:  a  Work  so  requisite,  that 
I  cannot  think  the  Author  himself  would  have  omitted  it,  had  he  approved  of  the  first 
appearance  of  this  Poem. 

Such  Notes  as  have  occurred  to  me,  I  herewith  send  you :  you  will  oblige  me  by 
inserting  them  amongst  those  which  are,  or  will  be,  transmitted  to  you  by  others ; 
since  not  only  the  Author's  friends,  but  even  strangers,  appear  engaged  by  humanity,  to 
take  some  care  of  an  Orphan  of  so  much  genius  and  spirit,  which  its  parent  seems  to 
have  abandoned  from  the  very  beginning,  and  suffered  to  step  into  the  world  naked, 
unguarded,  and  unattended. 

It  was  upon  reading  some  of  the  abusive  papers  lately  published,  that  my  great  regard 
to  a  Person,  whose  Friendship  I  esteem  as  one  of  the  chief  honours  of  my  life,  and  a 
much  greater  respect  to  Truth,  than  to  him  or  any  man  living,  engaged  me  in  enquiries, 
of  which  the  inclosed  Notes  are  the  fruit. 

I  perceived,  that  most  of  these  authors  had  been  (doubtless  very  wisely)  the  first 
aggressors.  They  had  tried,  'till  they  were  weary,  what  was  to  be  got  by  railing  at  each 
other :  Nobody  was  either  concerned  or  surprised,  if  this  or  that  scribbler  was  proved 
a  dunce.  But  every  one  was  curious  to  read  what  could  be  said  to  prove  Mr.  Pope 
one,  and  was  ready  to  pay  something  for  such  a  discovery :  A  stratagem,  which  would 
they  fairly  own,  it  might  not  only  reconcile  them  to  me,  but  screen  them  from  the  resent- 
ment of  their  lawful  Superiors,  whom  they  daily  abuse,  only  (as  I  charitably  hope)  to 
get  that  by  them,  which  they  cannot  get  from  them. 

I  found  this  was  not  all :  111  success  in  that  had  transported  them  to  Personal  abuse, 
either  of  himself,  or  (what  I  think  he  could  less  forgive)  of  his  Friends.  They  had 
called  Men  of  virtue  and  honour  bad  Men,  long  before  he  had  either  leisure  or  inclina- 
tion to  call  them  bad  Writers  :  and  some  had  been  such  old  offenders,  that  he  had  quite 
forgotten  their  persons  as  well  as  their  slanders,  'till  they  were  pleased  to  revive  them. 

Now  what  had  Mr.  PoPE  done  before,  to  incense  them?  He  had  published  those 
works  which  are  in  the  hands  of  everybody,  in  which  not  the  least  mention  is  made  of 
any  of  them.  And  what  has  he  done  since?  He  has  laughed,  and  written  the  DUNCIAD. 
What  has  that  said  of  them?  A  very  serious  truth,  which  the  public  had  said  before, 
that  they  were  dull :  and  what  it  had  no  sooner  said,  but  they  themselves  were  at  great 
pains  to  procure  or  even  purchase  room  in  the  prints,  to  testify  under  their  hands  to 
the  truth  of  it. 

I  should  still  have  been  silent,  if  either  I  had  seen  any  inclination  in  my  friend  to  be 
serious  with  such  accusers,  or  if  they  had  only  meddled  with  his  Writings ;  since  who- 
ever publishes,  puts  himself  on  his  trial  by  his  Country.  But  when  his  Moral  character 
was  attacked,  and  in  a  manner  from  which  neither  truth  nor  virtue  can  secure  the  most 
innocent,  —  in  a  manner,  which,  though  it  annihilates  the  credit  of  the  accusation  with 

*  [A  cefito  is  defined  by  Johnson  as  *  a  composition  formed  by  joining  scraps  from  other  authors.*] 


364  THE  DUNCIAD, 

the  just  and  impartial,  yet  aggravates  very  much  the  guilt  of  the  accusers  ;  I  mean  by 
Authors  without  names :  then  I  thought,  since  the  danger  was  common  to  all,  the  con- 
cern ought  to  be  so ;  and  that  it  was  an  act  of  jiistice  to  detect  the  Authors,  not  only  on 
this  account,  but  as  many  of  them  are  the  same  who  for  several  years  past  have  made 
free  with  the  greatest  names  in  Church  and  State,  exposed  to  the  world  the  private  mis- 
fortunes of  Families,  abused  ail,  even  to  Women,  and  whose  prosthuted  papers  (for 
one  or  other  party,  in  the  unhappy  divisions  of  their  Country)  have  insulted  the  Fallen, 
the  Friendless,  the  Exiled,  and  the  Dead. 

Besides  this,  which  I  take  to  be  a  public  concern,  I  have  already  confessed  I  had 
a  private  one.  I  am  one  of  that  number  who  have  long  loved  and  esteemed  Mr.  POPE  ; 
and  had  often  declared  it  was  not  his  capacity  or  writings  (which  we  ever  thought  the 
least  valuable  part  of  his  character),  but  the  honest,  open,  and  beneficent  man,  that  we 
most  esteemed,  and  loved  in  him.  Now,  if  what  these  people  say  were  believed,  I  must 
appear  to  all  my  friends  either  a  fool,  or  a  knave ;  either  imposed  on  myself,  or  impos- 
ing on  them  ;  so  that  I  am  as  much  interested  in  the  confutation  of  these  calumnies,  as 
he  is  himself. 

I  am  no  Author,  and  consequently  not  to  be  suspected  either  of  jealousy  or  resent- 
ment against  any  of  the  Men,  of  whom  scarce  one  is  known  to  me  by  sight ;  and  as  for 
their  Writings,  I  have  sought  them  (on  this  one  occasion)  in  vain,  in  the  closets  and 
libraries  of  all  my  acquaintance.  I  had  still  been  in  the  dark,  if  a  Gentleman  had  not 
procured  me  (I  suppose  from  some  of  themselves,  for  they  are  generally  much  more 
dangerous  friends  than  enemies)  the  passages  I  send  you.  I  solemnly  protest  I  have 
added  nothing  to  the  malice  or  absurdity  of  them  ;  which  it  behoves  me  to  declare, 
since  the  vouchers  themselves  will  be  so  soon  and  so  irrecoverably  lost.  You  may  in 
some  measure  prevent  it,  by  preserving  at  least  their  Titles, 1  and  discovering  (as  far  as 
you  can  depend  on  the  truth  of  your  information)  the  Names  of  the  concealed  authors. 

The  first  objection  I  have  heard  made  to  the  Poem  is,  that  the  persons  are  too 
obscure  for  satire.  The  persons  themselves,  rather  than  allow  the  objection,  would  for- 
give the  satire ;  and  if  one  could  be  tempted  to  afford  it  a  serious  answer,  were  not  all 
assassinates,  popular  insurrections,  the  insolence  of  the  rabble  without  doors,  and  of 
domestics  within,  most  wrongfully  chastised,  if  the  Meanness  of  offenders  indemnified 
them  from  punishment?  On  the  contrary,  Obscurity  renders  them  more  dangerous, 
as  less  thought  of;  Law  can  pronounce  judgment  only  on  open  facts;  Morality  alone 
can  pass  censure  on  intentions  of  mischief;  so  that  for  secret  calumny,  or  the  arrow 
flying  in  the  dark,  there  is  no  public  punishment  left,  but  what  a  good  Writer  inflicts. 

The  next  objection  is,  that  these  sort  of  authors  2iX^ poor.  That  might  be  pleaded  as 
an  excuse  at  the  Old  Bailey,  for  lesser  crimes  than  Defamation  (for  't  is  the  case  of  almost 
all  who  are  tried  there)  ;  but  sure  it  can  be  none  :  for  who  will  pretend  that  the  robbing 
another  of  his  Reputation  supplies  the  want  of  it  in  himself?  I  question  not  but  such 
authors  are  poor,  and  heartily  wish  the  objection  were  removed  by  any  honest  liveli- 
hood. But  Poverty  is  here  the  accident,  not  the  subject :  He  who  describes  Malice 
and  Villainy  to  be  pale  and  meagre,  expresses  not  the  least  anger  against  Paleness  or 
Leanness,  but  against  Malice  and  Villainy.  The  Apothecary  in  Ro7neo  and  Juliet  is 
poor;  but  is  he  therefore  justified  in  vending  poison  ?  Not  but  Poverty  itself  becomes 
a  just  subject  of  satire,  when  it  is  the  consequence  of  vice,  prodigality,  or  neglect  of 
one's  lawful  calling;  for  then  it  increases  the  public  burden,  fills  the  streets  and  high- 
ways with  Robbers,  and  the  garrets  with  Clippers,  Coiners,  and  Weekly  Journalists. 

But  admitting  that  two  or  three  of  these  offend  less  in  their  morals,  than  in  their 
writings  :  must  Poverty  make  nonsense  sacred  ?  If  so,  the  fame  of  bad  authors  would 
be  much  better  consulted  than  that  of  all  the  good  ones  in  the  world ;  and  not  one  of 
an  hundred  had  ever  been  called  by  his  right  name. 

They  mistake  the  whole  matter:  It  is  not  charity  to  encourage  them  in  the  way  they 
follow,  but  to  get  them  out  of  it ;  for  men  are  not  bunglers  because  they  are  poor,  but 
they  are  poor  because  they  are  bunglers. 

Is  it  not  pleasant  enough  to  hear  our  authors  crying  out  on  the  one  hand,  as  if  their 
persons  and  characters  were  too  sacred  for  Satire ;  and  the  public  objection  on  the 
other,  that  they  are  too  mean  even  for  Ridicule?  But  whether  Bread  or  Fame  be  their 
end,  it  must  be  allowed,  our  Author,  by  and  in  this  Poem,  has  mercifully  given  them  a 
little  of  both. 

1  Which  we  have  done  in  a  List  printed  in  the  Appendix.     P. 


THE  DUNCIAD,  365 

There  are  two  or  three,  who  by  their  rank  and  fortune  have  no  benefit  from  the 
former  objections,  supposing  them  good,  and  these  I  was  sorry  to  see  in  such  company. 
But  if,  without  any  provocation,  two  or  three  Gentlemen  will  fall  upon  one,  in  an  affair 
wherein  his  interest  and  reputation  are  equally  embarked ;  they  cannot  certainly,  after 
they  have  been  content  to  print  themselves  his  enemies,  complain  of  being  put  into 
the  number  of  them. 

Others,  I  am  told,  pretend  to  have  been  once  his  Friends.  Surely  they  are  their  ene- 
mies who  say  so,  since  nothing  can  be  more  odious  than  to  treat  a  friend  as  they  have 
done.  But  of  this  I  cannot  persuade  myself,  when  I  consider  the  constant  and  eternal 
aversion  of  all  bad  writers  to  a  good  one. 

Such  as  claim  a  merit  from  being  his  Admirers  I  would  gladly  ask,  if  it  lays  him 
under  a  personal  obligation?  At  that  rate  he  would  be  the  most  obliged  humble  ser- 
vant in  the  world.  I  dare  swear  for  these  in  particular,  he  never  desired  them  to  be 
his  admirers,  nor  promised  in  return  to  be  theirs.  That  had  truly  been  a  sign  he  was 
of  their  acquaintance ;  but  would  not  the  malicious  world  have  suspected  such  an 
approbation  of  some  motive  worse  than  ignorance,  in  the  author  of  the  Essay  on  Criti- 
cism ?  Be  it  as  it  will,  the  reasons  of  their  Admiration  and  of  his  Contempt  are  equally 
subsisting ;  for  his  works  and  theirs  are  the  very  same  that  they  were. 

One,  therefore,  of  their  assertions,  I  believe  may  be  true :  "  That  he  has  a  contempt 
for  their  writings."  And  there  is  another,  which  would  probably  be  sooner  allowed  by 
himself  than  by  any  good  judge  beside :  "  That  his  own  have  found  too  much  success 
with  the  public."  But  as  it  cannot  consist  with  his  modesty  to  claim  this  as  a  justice, 
it  lies  not  on  him,  but  entirely  on  the  public,  to  defend  its  own  judgment. 

There  remains  what  in  my  opinion  might  seem  a  better  plea  for  these  people,  than 
any  they  have  made  use  of.  If  Obscurity  or  Poverty  were  to  exempt  a  man  from  satire, 
much  more  should  Folly  or  Dulness,  which  are  still  more  involuntary ;  nay,  as  much  so 
as  personal  Deformity.  But  even  this  will  not  help  them  :  Deformity  becomes  an  object 
of  Ridicule  when  a  man  sets  up  for  being  handsome ;  and  so  must  Dulness  when  he 
sets  up  for  a  Wit.  They  are  not  ridiculed,  because  Ridicule  in  itself  is,  or  ought  to  be, 
a  pleasure ;  but  because  it  is  just  to  undeceive  and  vindicate  the  honest  and  unpretend- 
ing part  of  mankind  from  imposition  ;  because  particular  interest  ought  to  yield  to  gen- 
eral, and  a  great  number,  who  are  not  naturally  Fools,  ought  never  to  be  made  so,  in 
complaisance  to  a  few  who  are.  Accordingly  we  find  that  in  all  ages,  all  vain  pretend- 
ers, were  they  ever  so  poor  or  ever  so  dull,  have  been  constantly  the  topics  of  the  most 
candid  satirists,  from  the  Codrus  of  Juvenal  to  the  Damon  of  Boileau.i 

Having  mentioned  BOILEAU,  the  greatest  Poet  and  most  judicious  Critic  of  his  age 
and  country,  admirable  for  his  Talents,  and  yet  perhaps  more  admirable  for  his  Judg- 
ment in  the  proper  application  of  them  ;  I  cannot  help  remarking  the  resemblance 
betwixt  him  and  our  Author,  in  Qualities,  Fame,  and  Fortune;  in  the  distinctions 
shewn  them  by  their  Superiors,  in  the  general  esteem  of  their  Equals,  and  in  their 
extended  reputation  amongst  Foreigners;  in  the  latter  of  which  ours  has  met  with  the 
better  fate,  as  he  has  had  for  his  Translators  persons  of  the  most  eminent  rank  and 
abiHties  in  their  respective  nations.2  But  the  resemblance  holds  in  nothmg  more,  than 
in  their  being  equally  abused  by  the  ignorant  pretenders  to  Poetry  of  their  times;  of 
which  not  the  least  memory  will  remain  but  in  their  own  Writings,  and  in  the  Notes 
made  upon  them.  What  BOILEAU  has  done  in  almost  all  his  poems,  our  Author  has 
only  in  this :  I  dare  answer  for  him  he  will  do  it  in  no  more ;  and  on  this  principle,  of 
attacking  few  but  who  had  slandered  him,  he  could  not  have  done  it  at  all,  had  he  been 
confined  from  censuring  obscure  and  worthless  persons,  for  scarce  any  other  were  his 
enemies.  However,  as  the  parity  is  so  remarkable,  I  hope  it  will  continue  to  the  last; 
and  if  ever  he  shail  give  us  an  edition  of  this  Poem  himself,  I  may  see  some  of  them 

1  [Juv.  Sat.  I.  &  ni.;  Boileau  Sat.  i.]  Venetian;  and  by  the  Marquis  Rangoni,  Envoy 

2  Essay  on  Criticism,  in  French  verse,  by  Extraordinary  from  Modena  to  King  George  TI. 
General  Hamilton;  the  same,  in  verse  also,  by  Others  of  his  works  by  Salvini  of  Florence,  &c. 
Monsieur  Roboton,  Counsellor  and  Privy  Secre-  His  Essays  and  Dissertations  on  Homer,  several 
tary  to  King  George  I.  after  by  the  Abbd  Rey-  times  translated  in  French.  Essay  on  Man,  by 
nel,  in  verse,  with  notes.  Rape  of  the  Lock,  in  the  Abbe  Reynel,  in  verse,  by  Monsieur  Sil- 
French,  by  the  Princess  of  Conti,  Paris,  1728,  houet,  in  prose,  1737,  and  since  by  others  in 
and  in  Italian  verse,  by  the  Abb^  Conti  a  Noble  French,  Italian,  and  Latin.    P. 


366  THE  DUNCIAD. 

treated  as  gently,  on  their  repentance  or  better  merit,  as  Perrault  and  Quinault  i  were 
at  last  by  BoiLEAU. 

In  one  point  I  must  be  allowed  to  think  the  character  of  our  English  Poet  the  more 
amiable.  He  has  not  been  a  follower  of  Fortune  or  Success;  he  has  lived  with  the 
Great  without  flattery ;  been  a  friend  to  Men  in  power  without  pensions  ;  from  whom, 
as  he  asked,  so  he  received  no  favour,  but  what  was  done  Him  in  his  Friends.  As  his 
Satires  were  the  more  just  for  being  delayed,  so  were  his  Panegyrics ;  bestowed  only 
on  such  persons  as  he  had  familiarly  known,  only  for  such  virtues  as  he  had  long 
observed  in  them,  and  only  at  such  times  as  others  cease  to  praise,  if  not  begin  to 
calumniate  them,  —  I  mean  when  out  of  power  or  out  of  fashion.2  A  satire,  therefore, 
on  writers  so  notorious  for  the  contrary  practice,  became  no  man  so  well  as  himself;  as 
none,  it  is  plain,  was  so  little  in  their  friendships,  or  so  much  in  that  of  those  whom 
they  had  most  abused,  namely  the  Greatest  and  Best  of  all  Parties.  Let  me  add  a 
further  reason,  that,  tho'  engaged  in  their  Friendships,  he  never  espoused  their  Ani- 
mosities ;  and  can  almost  singly  challenge  this  honour,  not  to  have  written  a  line  of 
any  man,  which,  through  Guilt,  through  Shame,  or  through  Fear,  through  variety  of 
Fortune,  or  change  of  Interests,  he  was  ever  unwilling  to  own. 

I  shall  conclude  with  remarking  what  a  pleasure  it  must  be  to  every  reader  of 
Humanity,  to  see  all  along,  that  our  Author  in  his  very  laughter  is  not  indulging  his 
own  ill-nature,  but  only  punishing  that  of  others.  As  to  his  Poem,  those  alone  are 
capable  of  doing  it  justice,  who,  to  use  the  words  of  a  great  writer.^  know  how  hard  it 
is  (with  regard  both  to  his  subject  and  his  manner)  VETUSTIS  DARE  NOVITATEM, 
OBSOLETIS   NITOREM,   OBSCURIS   LUCEM,   FASTIDITIS  GRATIAM.      I  am 

Your  most  humble  servant, 
St.  James's, 
Dec.  22, 1728.  William  Cleland.* 


ADVERTISEMENT 

To  the  First  Edition  of  the  Fourth  Book  of  the  DUNCIAD,  when  printed  separately  in 

the  Year  1742. 

We  apprehend  it  can  be  deemed  no  injury  to  the  author  of  the  three  first  books  of 
the  Dunciad,  that  we  publish  this  Fourth.  It  was  found  merely  by  accident,  in  taking 
a  survey  of  the  Library  of  a  late  eminent  nobleman  ;  but  in  so  blotted  a  condition,  and 
in  so  many  detached  pieces,  as  plainly  shewed  it  not  only  to  be  incorrect,  but  unfin- 
ished. That  the  author  of  the  three  first  books  had  a  design  to  extend  and  complete 
his  poem  in  this  manner,  appears  from  the  dissertation  prefixed  to  it,  where  it  is  said, 
that  the  design  is  more  extensive,  and  that  we  may  expect  other  episodes  to  complete  it : 

1  [Perrault,  an  academician  and  author  of         ^  Pliny,  in  Hist.  Nat.,  ad  in.  §  15. 

erotic  poetry  and  of  Paralleles  des  Anciens  et  *  This  Gentleman  was  of  Scotland,  and  bred 
Modernes,  was  attacked  by  Boileau  in  his  ixth  at  the  University  of  Utrecht,  with  the  Earl  of 
and  xth  Satires,  and  in  several  epigrams;  Qui-  Mar.  He  served  in  Spain  under  Earl  Rivers, 
nault,  a  more  famous  (dramatic)  poet,  in  the  After  the  Peace,  he  was  made  one  of  the  Corn- 
earlier  Satires.  To  the  former  Boileau  became  missioners  of  the  Customs  in  Scotland,  and  then 
reconciled  in  1700  (see  his  Lettre  a  M.  Per-  of  Taxes  in  England,  in  which  having  shewn 
raulf) ;  his  reconciliation  with  the  latter  was  himself  for  twenty  years  diligent,  punctual,  and 
very  incomplete.  See  the  allusion  in  the  Art  incorruptible,  though  without  any  other  assist- 
Poetiqjie,  ch.  i.  v.  222  f.]  ance  of  Fortune,  he  was  suddenly  displaced  by 

2  As  Mr.  Wycherley,  at  the  time  the  Town  the  Minister  in  the  sixty  eighth  year  of  his  age; 
declaimed  against  his  book  of  Poems;  Mr.  and  died  two  months  after,  in  1741.  He  was  a 
Walsh,  after  his  death;  Sir  William  Trumbull,  person  of  Universal  Learning,  and  an  enlarged 
when  he  had  resigned  the  office  of  Secretary  of  Conversation ;  no  man  had  a  warmer  heart  for 
State ;  Lord  Bolingbroke,  at  his  leaving  Eng-  his  Friend,  or  a  sincerer  attachment  to  the  Con- 
land  after  the  Queen's  death;  Lord  Oxford,  in  stitution  of  his  Country.  P. — And  yet  for  all 
his  last  decline  of  life;  Mr.  Secretary  Craggs,  at  this,  the  Public  will  not  allow  him  to  be  the 
the  end  of  the .  South  Sea  year,  and  after  his  author  of  this  Letter.     Warburton, 

death:  others  only  in  Epitaphs.    P. 


THE  DUNCIAD.  367 

and  from  the  declaration  in  the  argument  to  the  third  book,  that  the  acco7nplish?neni  of 
the  prophesies  therein,  would  be  the  theme  hereafter  of  a  greater  Dunciad.  But  whether 
or  no  he  be  the  author  of  this,  we  declare  ourselves  ignorant.  If  he  be,  we  are  no  more 
to  be  blamed  for  the  publication  of  it,  than  Tucca  and  Varius  for  that  of  the  last  six 
books  of  the  Aineid,  tho'  perhaps  inferior  to  the  former.^ 

If  any  person  be  possessed  of  a  more  perfect  copy  of  this  work,  or  of  any  other  frag- 
ments of  it,  and  will  communicate  them  to  the  publisher,  we  shall  make  the  next  edition 
more  complete :  In  which  we  also  promise  to  insert  any  Criticisms  that  shall  be  pub- 
lished (if  at  all  to  the  purpose)  with  the  Names  of  the  Authors  ;  or  any  letters  sent  us 
(though  not  to  the  purpose)  shall  yet  be  printed  under  the  title  oi  EpistolcB  Obscurorum 
Virorum  ;'^  which,  together  with  some  others  of  the  same  kind  formerly  laid  by  for  that 
end,  may  make  no  unpleasant  addition  to  the  future  impressions  of  this  poem. 

ADVERTISEMENT 
To  the  complete  Edition  of  1743. 

I  HAVE  long  had  a  design  of  giving  some  sort  of  Notes  on  the  works  of  this  poet. 
Before  I  had  the  happiness  of  his  acquaintance,  I  had  written  a  commentary  on  his 
Essay  on  Man,  and  have  since  finished  another  on  the  Essay  on  Criticism.  There  was 
one  already  on  the  Dunciad,  which  had  met  with  general  approbation ;  but  I  still 
thought  some  additions  were  wanting  (of  a  more  serious  kind)  to  the  humourous  notes 
of  Scriblerus,  and  even  to  those  written  by  Mr.  Cleland,  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  and  others.  I 
had  lately  the  pleasure  to  pass  some  months  with  the  author  in  the  country,  where  I 
prevailed  upon  him  to  do  what  I  had  long  desired,  and  favour  me  with  his  explanation 
of  several  passages  in  his  works.  It  happened,  that  just  at  that  juncture  was  published 
a  ridiculous  book  against  him,  full  of  Personal  Reflections,  which  furnished  him  with 
a  lucky  opportunity  of  improving  This  Poem,  by  giving  it  the  only  thing  it  wanted,  a 
more  considerable  Hero.  He  was  always  sensible  of  its  defect  in  that  particular,  and 
owned  he  had  let  it  pass  with  the  Hero  it  had,  purely  for  want  of  a  better ;  not  enter- 
taining the  least  expectation  that  such  an  one  was  reserved  for  this  Post,  as  has  since 
obtained  the  Laurel :  But  since  that  had  happened,  he  could  no  longer  deny  this  justice 
either  to  him  or  the  Dunciad. 

And  yet  I  will  venture  to  say,  there  was  another  motive  which  had  still  more  weight 
with  our  Author:  This  person  was  one,  who  from  every  Folly  (not  to  say  Vice)  of 
which  another  would  be  ashamed,  has  constantly  derived  a  Vanity ;  and  therefore  was 
the  man  in  the  world  who  would  least  be  hurt  by  it.      Warburton, 

ADVERT!  SEMENT.8 

Printed  in  the  JOURNALS,  1730. 

Whereas,  upon  occasion  of  certain  Pieces  relating  to  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Dun- 
ciad, some  have  been  willing  to  suggest,  as  if  they  looked  upon  them  as  an  abuse :  we 
can  do  no  less  than  own,  it  is  our  opinion,  that  to  call  these  Gentlemen  bad  authors  is 
no  sort  of  abuse,  but  a  great  truth.  We  cannot  alter  this  opinion  without  some  reason  ; 
but  we  promise  to  do  it  in  respect  to  every  person  who  thinks  it  an  injury  to  be  repre- 
sented as  no  Wit,  or  Poet,  provided  he  procures  a  Certificate  of  his  being  really  such, 
from  any  three  of  his  companions  in  the  Dunciad,  or  from  Mr.  Dennis  singly,  who  is 
esteemed  equal  to  any  three  of  the  number. 

1  [According  to  Donatus,  Vergil  left  to  his  *  [This  title  is  of  course  borrowed  from  that 
friends  Varius  and  Tucca  (who  had  prevented  of  the  famous  attacks  on  the  schoolmen,  in 
him  from  burning  the  ^neid),  his  works,  on  which  Ulrich  von  Hutten  took  the  most  prom- 
condition  that  they  should  not  introduce  any  inent  part.] 

emendations  of  their  own.    Augustus  bade  them         ^  Taken  from  the  Grub-street  Journal,  but 

interpret  the  proviso  thus;     that    they   might  printed  with  such  variations  as  evidently  shew 

emend  their  author  by  omissions,  but  not  by  a  wish  to  conceal  its  origin.     Carruthers. 
additions.] 


368  THE  DUISrClAD, 

MARTINUS  SCRIBLERUS. 
Of  the  POEM. 

This  poem,  as  it  celebrateth  the  most  grave  and  ancient  of  things,  Chaos,  Night, 
and  Dulness ;  so  is  it  of  the  most  grave  and  ancient  kind.  Homer  (saith  Aristotle)  was 
the  first  who  gave  the  For?}t,  and  (saith  Horace)  who  adapted  the  Measure,  to  heroic 
poesy.  But,  even  before  this,  may  be  rationally  presumed  from  what  the  Ancients  have 
left  written,  was  a  piece  by  Homer  composed,  of  like  nature  and  matter  with  this  of  our 
poet.  For  of  Epic  sort  it  appeareth  to  have  been,  yet  of  matter  surely  not  unpleasant, 
witness  what  is  reported  of  it  by  the  learned  archbishop  Eustathius,  in  Odyss.  x.  And 
accordingly  Aristotle,  in  his  Poetic,  chap,  iv.,  doth  further  set  forth,  that  as  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey  gave  example  to  Tragedy,  so  did  this  poem  to  Comedy  its  first  idea. 

From  these  authors  also  it  should  seem,  that  the  Hero,  or  chief  personage  of  it  was 
no  less  obscure,  and  his  understanding  and  sentiments  no  less  quaint  and  strange  (if 
indeed  not  more  so)  than  any  of  the  actors  of  our  poem.  Margites  was  the  name  of 
this  personage,  whom  Antiquity  recordeth  to  have  been  Dunce  the  first ;  and  surely, 
from  what  we  hear  of  him,  not  unworthy  to  be  the  root  of  so  spreading  a  tree,  and  so 
numerous  a  posterity.  The  poem,  therefore,  celebrating  him  was  properly  and  abso- 
lutely a  Dunciad ;  which  though  now  unhappily  lost,  yet  is  its  nature  sufficiently  known 
by  the  infallible  tokens  aforesaid.  And  thus  it  doth  appear,  that  the  first  Dunciad 
was  the  first  Epic  poem,  written  by  Homer  himself,  and  anterior  even  to  the  Iliad  or 
Odyssey)- 

Now,  forasmuch  as  our  poet  had  translated  those  two  famous  works  of  Homer  which 
are  yet  left,  he  did  conceive  it  in  some  sort  his  duty  to  imitate  that  also  which  was  lost : 
and  was  therefore  induced  to  bestow  on  it  the  same  form  which  Homer's  is  reported  to 
have  had,  namely  that  of  Epic  poem:  with  a  title  also  framed  after  the  ancient  Greek 
manner,  to  wit,  that  of  Dunciad. 

Wonderful  it  is,  that  so  few  of  the  moderns  have  been  stimulated  to  attempt  some 
Dunciad!  since,  in  the  opinion  of  the  multitude,  it  might  cost  less  pain  and  oil  than  an 
imitation  of  the  greater  Epic.  But  possible  it  is  also,  that,  on  due  reflection,  the  maker 
might  find  it  easier  to  paint  a  Charlemagne,  a  Brute,2  or  a  Godfrey ,3  with  just  pomp 
and  dignity  heroic,  than  a  Margites,  a  Codrus,*  or  a  Flecknoe. 

We  shall  next  declare  the  occasion  and  the  cause  which  moved  our  poet  to  this  par- 
ticular work.  He  lived  in  those  days,  when  (after  providence  had  permitted  the  inven- 
tion of  Printing  as  a  scourge  for  the  sins  of  the  learned)  Paper  also  became  so  cheap, 
and  Printers  so  numerous,  that  a  deluge  of  Authors  covered  the  land:  Whereby,  not 
only  the  peace  of  the  honest  unwriting  subject  was  daily  molested,  but  unmerciful 
demands  were  made  of  his  applause,  yea  of  his  money,  by  such  as  would  neither  earn 
the  one,  nor  deserve  the  other.  At  the  same  time,  the  licence  of  the  Press  was  such, 
that  it  grew  dangerous  to  refuse  them  either ;  for  they  would  forthwith  publish  slanders 
unpunished,  the  authors  being  anonymous,  and  skulking  under  the  wings  of  Publishers, 
a  set  of  men  who  never  scrupled  to  vend  either  Calumny  or  Blasphemy,  as  long  as  the 
Town  would  call  for  it. 

5  Now  our  author,  living  in  those  times,  did  conceive  it  an  endeavour  well  worthy  an 
honest  Satirist,  to  dissuade  the  dull,  and  punish  the  wicked,  the  only  way  that  was  left. 

1  [The  Margites  is  ascribed   to  Homer  by  but  know  all  badly.'     The  following  is  an  at- 

Aristotle  {Poet.  c.  iv.),  and  stated  to  hold  the  tempt  at  rendering  the  beginning  of  the  71/..- 
same   relation  to  comedy,   that   the   Iliad  and  *  Once    to    Colophon    came   an  ancient  and 

Odyssey  hold  to  tragedy.     K.  O.  Mul'er  thinks  heavenly  singer, 

that  the  iambic  verses  introduced  into  it  were  Votary  he  of  the  Muses  and  of  far-darting  Apollo, 

interpolated  in  a  later  version ;   and  states  that  And  in  his  hands  he  held  a  well-tuned  lyre.'] 
*  from  the  few  fragments  and  notices  relative  to  ^  [The  fabulous  King  of  Britain,  the  hero  of 

the  poem  which  have  come  down  to  us,  we  can  Wace's  and  Layamon's  poems.] 
gather  that  it  was  a  representation  of  a  stupid  ^  [Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  the  hero  of  Tasso's 

man,  who  had  a  high  opinion  of  his  own  clever-  yerusalem  Delivered.'] 
ness,  for  he  was  said,  *  to  know  many  works,         *  [See  Ep.  to  Arbuthnot,  v.  85.] 

fi  Vide  Bossu,  Du  Po'eme  E^ique^  ch.  vill. 


THE  DUNCTAD.  369 

In  that  public-spirited  view  he  laid  the  plan  of  his  Poem,  as  the  greatest  service  he  was 
capable  (without  much  hurt,  or  being  slain)  to  render  his  dear  country.  First,  taking 
things  from  their  original,  he  considereth  the  Causes  creative  of  such  Authors,  namely 
Dulness  and  Poverty  ;  the  one  born  with  them,  the  other  contracted  by  neglect  of  their 
proper  talents,  through  self-conceit  of  greater  abilities.  This  truth  he  wrappeth  in  an 
Allegory'^  (as  the  construction  of  Epic  poesy  requireth)  and  feigns  that  one  of  these 
Goddesses  had  taken  up  her  abode  with  the  other,  and  that  they  jointly  inspired  all 
such  writers  and  such  works.  He  proceedeth2  to  shew  the  qualities  they  bestow  on 
these  authors,  and  the  effects  they  produce :  8  then  the  materials,  or  stock  with  which 
they  furnish  them  ;  *  and  (above  all)  that  self-opinion  5  which  causeth  it  to  seem  to  them- 
selves vastly  greater  than  it  is,  and  is  the  prime  motive  of  their  setting  up  in  this  sad  and 
sorry  merchandise.  The  great  power  of  these  Goddesses  acting  in  alliance  (whereof 
as  the  one  is  the  mother  of  Industry,  so  is  the  other  of  Plodding),  was  to  be  exemplified 
in  some  one, great  and  remarkable  Action  :  6  and  none  could  be  more  so  than  that  which 
our  poet  hath  chosen,  viz.  the  restoration  of  the  reign  of  Chaos  and  Night,  by  the  min- 
istry of  Dulness  their  Daughter,  in  the  removal  of  her  imperial  seat  from  the  City  to  the 
polite  World ;  as  the  Action  of  the  ^neid  is  the  restoration  of  the  empire  of  Troy,  by 
the  removal  of  the  race  from  thence  to  Latium.  But  as  Homer  singing  only  the  Wratk 
of  Achilles,  yet  includes  in  his  poem  the  whole  history  of  the  Trojan  war;  in  like  man- 
ner our  author  hath  drawn  into  this  single  Action  the  whole  history  of  Dulness  and  her 
children. 

A  Person  must  next  be  fixed  upon  to  support  this  Action.    This  Phantom  in  the 

poet's  mind  must  have  a  Name  :^  He  finds  it  to  be ;   and  he  becomes  of  course 

the  Hero  of  the  Poem. 

The  Fable  hoing  thus,  according  to  the  best  Example,  one  and  entire,  as  contained 
in  the-Pfopdsition  ;  the  Machinery  is  a  continued  chain  of  Allegories,  setting  forth  the 
whole  Power,  Ministry,  and  Empire  of  Dulness,  extended  through  her  subordinate 
instruments,  in  all  her  various  operations. 

This  is  branched  into  Episodes,  each  of  which  hath  its  Moral  apart,  though  all  con- 
ducive to  the  main  end.  The  Crowd  assembled  in  the  second  book  demonstrates  the 
design  to  be  more  extensive  than  to  bad  poets  only,  and  that  we  may  expect  other  Epi- 
sodes of  the  Patrons,  Encouragers,  or  Paymasters  of  such  authors,  as  occasion  shall 
bring  them  forth.  And  the  third  book,  if  well  considered,  seemeth  to  embrace  the  whole 
World.  Each  of  the  Games  relateth  to  some  or  other  vile  class  of  writers :  The  first 
concerneth  the  Plagiary,  to  whom  he  giveth  the  name  of  Moore ;  the  second,  the  libel- 
lous Novelist,  whom  he  styleth  Eliza ;  the  third,  the  flattering  Dedicator ;  the  fourth,  the 
bawling  Critic,  or  noisy  Poet;  the  fifth,  the  dark  and  dirty  Party-writer;  and  so  of  the 
rest;  assigning  to  each  Siome proper  name  or  other,  such  as  he  could  find. 

As  for  the  Characters,  the  public  hath  already  acknowledged  how  justly  they  are 
drawn  :  the  manners  are  so  depicted,  and  the  sentiments  so  peculiar  to  those  to  whom 
applied,  that  surely  to  transfer  them  to  any  other  or  wiser  personages  would  be  exceed- 
ing difficult :  and  certain  it  is  that  every  person  concerned,  being  consulted  apart,  hath 
readily  owned  the  resemblance  of  every  portrait,  his  own  excepted.  So  Mr.  Cibber 
calls  them,  "  a  parcel  oi poor  wretches,  so  many  silly  fiies :  8  but  adds,  our  Author's  Wit 
is  remarkably  more  bare  and  barren,  whenever  it  would  fall  foul  on  Cibber,  than  upon 
any  other  Person  whatever." 

The  Descriptions  are  singular,  the  Comparisons  very  quaint,  the  Narration  various, 
yet  of  one  colour  :  The  purity  and  chastity  of  Diction  is  so  preserved,  that  in  the  places 
most  suspicious  not  the  words  but  only  the  images  have  been  censured,  and  yet  are 
those  images  no  other  than  have  been  sanctified  by  ancient  and  classical  Authority 
(though,  as  was  the  manner  of  those  good  times,  not  so  curiously  wrapped  up),  yea, 
and  commented  upon  by  the  most  grave  Doctors,  and  approved  Critics. 

As  it  beareth  the  name  of  Epic,  it  is  thereby  subjected  to  such  severe  indispensable 
rules  as  are  laid  on  all  Neoterics,  a  strict  imitation  of  the  Ancients;  insomuch  that 
any  deviation,  accompanied  with  whatever  poetic  beauties,  hath  always  been  censured 

1  Bossu,  chap.  vn.  «  Bossu,  chap,  vn,  vni. 

'  Book  I.  V.  32,  &c.  '^   Ibid.    chap.    vni.      Vide    Aristot.   Poetic^ 

*  Ver.  45  to  54.  cap.  ix. 

*  Ver.  57  to  77.  8  Gibber's  Letter  to  Mr.  P.  pp.  7,  9,  &c. 
«  Ver.  80. 

2P 


370  THE  DUNCIAD, 

by  the  sound  Critic.  How  exact  that  Imitation  hath  been  in  this  piece,  appeareth  not 
only  by  its  general  structure,  but  by  particular  allusions  infinite,  many  whereof  have 
escaped  both  the  commentator  and  poet  himself;  yea  divers  by  his  exceeding  diligence 
are  so  altered  and  interwoven  with  the  rest,  that  several  have  already  been,  and  more 
will  be,  by  the  ignorant  abused,  as  altogether  and  originally  his  own. 

In  a  word,  the  whole  poem  proveth  itself  to  be  the  work  of  our  Author,  when  his 
faculties  were  in  full  vigour  and  perfection  ;  at  that  exact  time  when  years  have  ripened 
the  Judgment,  without  diminishing  the  Imagination :  which,  by  good  Critics,  is  held 
to  be  punctually  2X  forty.  For,  at  that  season  it  was  that  Virgil  finished  his  Georgics ; 
and  Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  at  the  hke  age  composing  his  Arthurs,  declared  the  same 
to  be  the  very  Acme  and  pitch  of  life  for  Epic  poesy  :  Though  since  he  hath  altered  it 
to  sixty,  the  year  in  which  he  published  his  Alfred}-  True  it  is,  that  the  talents  for 
Criticism,  namely,  smartness,  quick  censure,  vivacity  of  remark,  certainty  of  assevera- 
tion, indeed  all  but  acerbity,  seem  rather  the  gifts  of  Youth  than  of  riper  Age.  But  it 
is  far  otherwise  in  Poetry ;  witness  the  works  of  Mr.  Rymer^  and  Mr.  Dennis,  who, 
beginning  with  Criticism,  became  afterwards  such  Poets  as  no  age  hath  parallek-d. 
With  good  reason  therefore  did  our  author  choose  to  write  his  Essay  on  that  subject 
at  twenty,  and  reserve  for  his  maturer  years  this  great  and  wonderful  work  of  the 
Dunciad.     P. 

BY  AUTHORITY. 

2Sg  ijtrtue  of  tjje  ^Utfjoritg  m  Ms  besteU  bg  tfje  Act  for  subjecting  Poets  to  the 
power  of  a  Licenser,  i»e  f)a\je  te^iscti  ti}is  li^\ztt\  bj^erc  fmtiins  tfje  stgle  antJ 
appellation  of  King  to  ijabe  been  ^x'^zx^  to  a  certain  Pretender,  Pseudo-Poet,  or 
Phantom,  of  ti)e  name  of  Tibbald;  anti  appreljentiing  tl)e  same  mag  be  tfeemeti  m 
some  sort  a  reflection  on  Majesty,  or  at  least  an  insult  on  tfjat  ilegal  ^utfjoritg 
bljicl)  l)as  bestobjeU  on  anotljer  person  tlje  Crown  of  Poesy :  W^i  Ijabe  ortiereti  tlje 

SaitI  Pretender,  Pseudo-Poet,  or  Phantom,  tltterlg  tO  vanish  antJ  evaporate  out  of 

tljis  bjork :  "Unti  tfo  tieclare  tlje  saiti  ^fjrone  of  i|oesg  from  J}encefortl)  to  be  ablii- 
cateti  antJ  bacant,  unless  tiulg  anti  labfullg  supplieti  bg  tl}e  Laureate  himself. 
^ntJ  it  is  Ijerebg  enacteH,  tfjat  no  otijer  ?|erson  5o  presume  to  fill  tlje  same, 

OC    Ch. 


THE   DUNCIAD: 
To  Dr.  Jonathan  Swift.^ 

BOOK   THE   FIRSTo 

ARGUMENT. 

THE  Proposition^  the  Invocation,  and  the  Inscription.  Then  the  Original  of  the 
great  Empire  of  Dulness,  and  cause  of  the  continuance  thereof.  The  College  of  the 
Goddess  in  the  City,  with  her  private  Academy  for  Poets  in  particular  ;  the  Governors 

1  See  his  Essays.     P.  and  Swift,  concerning  which  see  hitroductory 

2  [The  author  of  a  Short  View  of  Tragedy  Memoir,  it  should  never  be  left  out  of  sight  that 
(1693),  which  contains  some  absurd  cavils  their  acquaintance  commenced  at  a  time  (1713) 
against  Shakspere  as  well  as  against  later  au-  when  Swift  was  at  the  height  of  his  influence  as 
thora.]  a  political  adviser  as  well  as  literary  champion 

»  [In  considering  the  relations  between  Pope    of  the  Tory  party,  while  Pope  had  hardly  se- 


THE  DUNCIAD.  371 

of  it,  and  the  four  Cardinal  Virtues.  Then  the  Poem  nastes  into  the  midst  of  things, 
presenting  her,  on  the  evening  of  a  Lord  Mayor  s  day,  revolving  the  long  succession  of  her 
Sons,  and  the  glories  past  and  to  come.  She  fixes  her  eye  on  Bays  to  be  the  Instrument  of 
that  great  Event  which  is  the  Subject  of  the  Poem.  He  is  described  pensive  among  his 
Books,  giving  up  the  Cause,  and  apprehending  the  Period  of  her  Empire  :  After  debating 
whether  to  betake  himself  to  the  Church,  or  to  Gaming,  or  to  Party-writing,  he  raises  an 
Altar  of  proper  books,  and  {?naking  frst  his  solemn  prayer  and  declaration)  purposes 
thereon  to  sacrifice  all  his  unsuccessful  writings.  As  the  pile  is  kindled,  the  Goddess, 
beholding  the  fame  from  her  seat,  flies  and  puts  it  out,  by  casting  upon  it  the  poetn  of 
Thule.  She  forthwith  reveals  herself  to  him,  transports  him  to  her  Temple,  unfolds  her 
Arts,  and  initiates  him  into  her  Mysteries ;  then  denouncing  the  death  (^/Eusden  the 
Poet  Laureate,  anoints  him,  carries  him  to  Court,  and  proclaims  him  Successor, 


BOOK  I. 

THE  Mighty  Mother,^  and  her  Son,  who  brings 
The  Smithfield  Muses  ^  to  the  ear  of  Kings, 
I  sing.     Say  you,  her  instruments  the  Great! 
Caird  to  this  work  by  Dulness,  Jove,  and  Fate :  ^ 
You  by  whose  care,  in  vain  decryM  and  curst,  5 

Still  Dunce  the  second  reigns  like  Dunce  the  first ; 
Say,  how  the  Goddess  bade  Britannia  sleep. 
And  pour'd  her  Spirit  o'er  the  land  and  deep. 

In  eldest  time,  ere  mortals  writ  or  read,  ^ 

Ere  Pallas  issued  from  the  Thund'rer's  head,  XO 

Dulness  o'er  all  possessed  her  ancient  right, 
Daughter  of  Chaos  and  eternal  Night :  ^ 
Fate  in  their  dotage  this  fair  Idiot  gave, 
Gross  as  her  sire,  and  as  her  mother  grave. 
Laborious,  heavy,  busy,  bold,  and  blind,  15 

She  rul'd,  in  native  Anarchy,  the  mind. 

Still  her  old  Empire  to  restore  ^  she  tries, 
For,  born  a  Goddess,  Dulness  never  dies. 

O  Thou !  whatever  title  please  thine  ear, 

cured  the  first  step  on  the  ladder  of  fame.  The  shows,  machines,  and  dramatical  entertainments, 
composition  of  the  Dunciad  was  as  it  were  era-  formerly  agreeable  only  to  the  taste  of  the  Rab- 
dled  by  the  friendship  of  Swift;  and  the  dedication  ble,  were,  by  the  Hero  of  this  poem  and  others 
by  which  it  was  accompanied  when  first  pub-  of  equal  genius,  brought  to  the  Theatres  of 
lished  in  a  complete  form  in  April  1729,  was  Covent-garden,  Lincolns-inn-fields,  and  the  Hay- 
therefore  a  tribute  in  every  sense  merited  by  the  market,  to  be  the  reigning  pleasures  of  the 
person  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  It  must  have  Court  and  Town.  This  happened  in  the  reigns 
reached  him  at  the  most  miserable  period  of  his  of  King  George  I.  and  II.  See  Book  iii.  P. 
life,  after  his  return  from  his  last  visit  to  Eng-  3  ^y  Dulness,  Jove,  and  Fate  .']  i.e.  by 
land  and  after  the  death  of  Stella.]  their   Judgments^   their    Interests,   and    their 

1  The  Mighty  Mother,  dr*^.]  in  the  first  Edd.  Inclinations.     P. 

it  was  thus,  *  Conformably    to    Milton's    doctrine,   Par. 

*  Books  and  the  Man  I  sing,  the  first  who  brings  Lost,  11.  894  and  960.     Wakefield. 
The  Smithfield  Muses  to  the  ear  of  Kings,'  &c.         ^  still  her  old  Empire  to  restore']   This 

P.  Restoration  makes  the  Completion  of  the  Poem. 

2  The  Smithfield  Muses]  Smithfield  is  the  Vide  Book  iv.     P. 
place  where  Bartholomew  Fair  was  kept,  whose 


372 


THE  D  UNCI  AD. 


J^^ 


;v^;vp 


Dean,  Drapier,  BickerstaiF/  or  Gulliver  I^  20 

Whether  thou  choose  Cervantes'  serious  air,^ 

Or  laugh  and  shake  in  RabUais'  easy  chair,^ 

Or  praise  the  Court,  or  magnify  Mankind,^ 

Or  thy  griev'd  Country's  copper  chains  unbind ; 

From  thy  Boeotia  tho'  her  Pow'r  retires,^  25 

Mourn  not,  my  Swift,  at  aught  our  Realm  acquires.' 

Here  pleas'd  behold  her  mighty  wings  outspread 

To  hatch  a  new  Saturnian  age  of  Lead.^ 

Close  to  those  walls  where  Folly  holds  her  throne, 
And  laughs  to  think  Monroe^  would  take  her  down,  30 

Where  o'er  the  gates,  by  his  fam'd  father's  hand,i^  \ 
Great  Gibber's  brazen,  brainless  brothers  stand ; 
One  Cell  there  is,  conceal'd  from  vulgar  eye. 
The  Cave  of  Poverty  and  Poetry. ^^ 

Keen,  hollow  winds  howl  thro'  the  bleak  recess,  35 

Emblem  of  Music  caus'd  by  Emptiness. 
Hence  Bards,  like  Proteus  long  in  vain  tied  down,^* 
Escape  in  Monsters,  and  amaze  the  town. 


1  [In  the  Satire  on  John  Partridge  the  Al- 
manac-maker and  subsequent  publications. 
Steele  borrowed  the  pseudonym  of  Isaac  Bick- 
erstaff  from  Swift,  who  was  a  contributor  to  a 
few*of  the  earlier  papers  of  the  Tailer.] 

2  —  Drapier,  Bickerstaff,  or  Gulliver I^ 
The  several  names  and  characters  he  assumed 
in  his  ludicrous,  his  splenetic,  or  his  party- 
writings;  which  take  in  all  his  works.     P. 

3  [In  the  Travels  of  Gulliver,  as  Warburton 
interprets  the  passage.  But  Mr.  Booth,  in 
Fielding's  Amelia,  is  beyond  a  doubt  right  in 
his  observation  that  *  he  does  not  remember  to 
have  ever  seen  in  Swift's  works  the  least  attempt 
in  the  manner  of  Cervantes,'  and  that  the  name 
of  Lucian  might  have  been  appropriately  intro- 
duced among  those  of  the  authors  whom  Swift 
studied  above  all  others.] 

4  After  Ver.  22  in  the  MS. 

*  Or  in  the  graver  Gown  instruct  mankind. 

Or  silent  let  thy  mortals  tell  thy  mind.' 
But  this  was  to  be  understood,  as  the  Poet  says, 
Ironice,  like  the  23rd  Verse,     P. 

^  Or  praise  the  Court,  or  magnify  Man- 
kind,']  Ironice,  alluding  to  Gulliver's  repre- 
sentations of  both.  —  The  next  line  relates  to 
the  papers  of  the  Drapier  against  the  currency 
of  Wood's  copper  coin  in  Ireland,  which,  upon 
the  great  discontent  of  the  people,  his  Majesty 
was  graciously  pleased  to  recal.     P. 

6  Boeotia  of  old  lay  under  the  raillery  of  the 
neighbouring  wits,  as  Ireland  does  now;  though 
each  of  those  nations  produced  one  of  the  great- 
est wits  and  greatest  generals  of  their  age.     P. 

"^  Mourn  not,  my  Swift,  at  aught  our  Realm. 


acquires.]  Ironice  iterum.  The  Politics  of 
England  and  Ireland  were  at  this  time  by 
some  thought  to  be  opposite,  or  interfering  with 
each  other:  Dr.  S%vift  of  course  was  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  latter,  our  Author  of  the  former.    P, 

8  To  hatch  a  new  Saturnian  age  of  Lead.] 
The  ancient  Golden  Age  is  by  Poets  styled 
Saturnian,  as  being  under  the  reign  of  Saturn; 
but  in  the  Chemical  language  Saturn  is  Lead. 
She  is  said  here  only  to  be  spreading  her  wings 
to  hatch  this  age ;  which  is  not  produced  com- 
pletely till  the  fourth  book.     P. 

°  [Physician  to  Bedlam  Hospital.] 
i<^  Mr.  Caius  Gabriel  Gibber,  father  of  the 
Poet  Laureate.  The  two  Statues  of  the  Luna- 
tics over  the  gates  of  Bedlam  Hospital  were 
done  by  him,  and  (as  the  son  justly  says  of 
them)  are  no  ill  monuments  of  his  fame  as  an 
artist.     P. 

11  Poverty  and  Poetry]  I  cannot  here  omit 
a  remark  that  will  greatly  endear  our  Author  to 
every  one,  who  shall  attentively  observe  that 
Humanity  and  Candour,  which  every  where  ap- 
pear in  him  towards  those  unhappy  objects  of 
the  ridicule  of  all  mankind,  the  bad  Poets.  He 
here  imputes  all  scandalous  rhymes,  scurrilous 
weekly  papers,  base  flatteries,  wretched  elegies, 
songs,  and  verses  (even  from  those  sung  at  Court 
to  ballads  in  the  streets),  not  so  much  to  malice 
or  servility  as  to  Dulness;  and  not  so  much  to 
Dulness  as  to  Necessity.  And  thus,  at  the  very 
commencement  of  his  Satire,  makes  an  apology 
for  all  that  are  to  be  satirized.     P. 

12  Ov.  Metam.  xiii.  [v.  918].  Warburton. 
A  very  close  resemblance  to  the  lines  of  Young 


THE  DUNCIAD.  373 

Hence  Miscellanies  spring,  the  weekly  boast 
Of  CurPs  chaste  press,  and  Lintot's  rubric  post :  40 

Hence  hymning  Tyburn's  elegiac  lines,^ 
Hence  Journals,  Medleys,  Merceries,  Magazines  ;  * 
Sepulchral  Lies,^  our  holy  walls  to  grace, 
And  New-year  Odes,^  and  all  the  Grub-street  race. 
,      In  clouded  Majesty  here  Dulness  shone  ;  45 

Four  guardian  Virtues,  round,  support  her  throne : 
Fierce  champion  Fortitude,  that  knows  no  fears 
Of  hisses,  blows,  or  want,  or  loss  of  ears  : 
.  Calm  Temperance,  whose  blessings  those  partake 

\  Who  hunger,  and  who  thirst  for  scribbling  sake :  50 

Prudence,  whose  glass  presents  th'  approaching  jail : 
Poetic  Justice,  with  her  lifted  scale. 
Where,  in  nice  balance,  truth  with  gold  she  weighs, 
,  And  solid  pudding  against  empty  praise. 

/      Here  she  beholds  the  Chaos  dark  and  deep,^  55 

/  Where  nameless  Somethings  in  their  causes  sleep, 
\  Till  genial  Jacob,"^  or  a  warm  Third  day,  h^-^^ 

^         Call  fCTtTTeach  mass,  a  Poem,  or  a  Play :  ^^ 

How  hints,  like  spawn,  scarce  quick  in  embryo  lie, 
How  new-born  nonsense  first  is  taught  to  cry,  '  60 

Maggots  half-formM  in  rhyme  exactly  meet, 
And  learn  to  crawl  upon  poetic  feet. 
Here  one  poor  word  an  hundred  clenches  makes,^ 

in  his  first  epistle  on  the  authors  of  the  age,  Reflections^    Confutations,    Queries^    Verses^ 

addressed  to  Mr.  Pope.     Warton.  Songs,  Epigrams,  Riddles,  d^c  equally  the 

^  CtirVs  chaste  press,  and  Lintofs  rubric  disgrace  of  human  Wit,  Morality,  Decency,  and 

post:'\  'Two  Booksellers,  of  whom  see  Book  ii.  Common  Sense.     P.  and  Warburton. 
The  former  was  fined  by  the  Court  of  King's         *  Sepulchral  Lies,']  Is  a  just  satire  on  the 

Bench  for  publishing  obscene  books;  the  latter  Flatteries  and   Falsehoods   admitted   to  be  in- 

usually  adorned  his  shop  with  titles  in  red  let-  scribed    on    the    walls    of    Churches,    in    Epi- 

ters.     P.  taphs.     P. 

2  Ver.  41  in  "the  former  Editions,  ^  New-year  Odes,]  Made  by  the  Poet 
*  Hence  hymning  Tyburn's  elegiac  lay.  Laureate  for  the  time  being,  to  be  sung  at 
Hence  the  soft  sing-song  on  Cecilia's  Day.'  Court  on  every  New-year's  day,  the  words  of 

Warburton.  which  are  happily  drowned  in  the  voices  and 

Hence  hymning  Tyburn's  elegiac  lines,]  It  instruments.     The  New-year  Odes  of  the  Hero 

is  an  ancient  English  custom  for  the  Malefactors  of  this  work  were  of  a  cast  distinguished  from 

to  sing  a  Psalm  at  their  execution  at  Tyburn;  all  that  preceded  him,  and  made  a  conspicuous 

and  no  less  customary  to  print  Elegies  on  their  part  of  his  character  as  a  writer,  which  doubtless 

deaths,  at  the  same  time,  or  before.    P.  induced  our  Author  to  mention  them. here  so 

3  Magazines.]     The  common  name  of  those  particularly.     P. 

upstart  collections  in  prose  and  verse;  in  which,  «  Compare  Milton,  Par.  Lost,  Bk.  iii.  v.  ii. 

at  some  times,  Wakefield. 

—  new  born  nonsense  first  is  taught  to  cry;  "'  [Jacob  Tonson  the  bookseller:  *  left-legged 

at  others,  dead-born  Scandal   has  its  monthly  Jacob,'  as  he  was  afterwards  called,  who  pub> 

funeral,  where  Dulness  assumes  all  the  various  lished  for  both  Dryden  and  Pope.] 

shapes  of  Folly  to  draw  in  and  cajole  the  Rab-  ^  Here  one  poor  word  an  hundred  clenches 

ble.    The  eruption  of  every  miserable  Scribbler;  makes,]  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  give  an  instance 

the  scum  of  every  dirty  News-paper;  or  Frag-  or  two  of  these  operations  of  Dulness  out  of  the 

ments   of   Fragments,   picked    up   from    every  works  of  her  Sons,  celebrated  in  the  Poem.     A 

Dunghill,  under  the  title  of  Papers,  Essays,  great  Critic  formerly  held  these  clenches  in  such 


374  I^HE  DUNCIAD, 

\  And  ductile  Dulness  new  maeanders  takes ;         (^ 
\  There  motley  images  her  fancy  strike,  65 

Figures  ill  pairM,  and  Similes  unlike. 

She  sees  a  Mob  of  Metaphors  advance, 

Pleas'd  with  the  madness  of  the  mazy  dance ; 

How  Tragedy  and  Comedy  embrace  ; 

How  Farce  and  Epic  get  a  jumbled  race  ;  70 

How  Time  himselP  stands  still  at  her  command, 

Realms  shift  their  place,  and  Ocean  turns  to  land. 

Here  gay  Description  Egypt  glads  with  show'rs, 

Or  gives  to  Zembla  fruits,  to  Barca  flow'rs  : 

Glitt'ring  with  ice  here  hoary  hills  are  seen,  75 

There  painted  valleys  of  eternal  green ; 

In  cold  December  fragrant  chaplets  blow. 

And  heavy  harvests  nod  beneath  the  snow. 

All  these  and  more  the  cloud-compelling  Queen 

Beholds  thro'  fogs,  that  magnify  the  scene.  80 

She,  tinseird  o'er  in  robes  of  varying  hues. 

With  self-applause  her  wild  creation  views ; 

Sees  momentary  monsters  rise  and  fall. 

And  with  her  own  fools-colours  gilds  them  all. 
/^^  'T  was  on  the  day  when  *  *  rich  and  grave,^  85 

iLike  Cimon,  triumphed  both  on  land  and  wave : 

(Pomps  without  guilt,  of  bloodless  swords  and  maces, 
^r  Glad  chains,  warm  furs,  broad  banners,  and  broad  faces) 

Now  Night  descending,  the  proud  scene  was  o'er, 
^.^  .•  '     ..^,    .  But  livM  in  Settle's  numbers  one  day  more.^  90 

Now  May'rs  and  Shrieves  all  hush'd  and  satiate  lay, 
)  Yet  ate,  in  dreams,  the  custard  of  the  day ; 
/  While  pensive  Poets  painful  vigils  keep, 
■   Sleepless  themselves,  to  give  their  readers  sleep. 

abhorrence,  that  he  declared,  "  he  that  would         ^  Ver.  85  in  the  former  Editions, 

pun,  would  pick  a  pocket."     Yet  Mr.  Dennis's  "Twas  on  the  day  when  Thorold,  rich  and  grave.' 
works  afford  us  notable  examples  in  this  kind;  Sir  George  Thorold,  Lord  Mayor  of  London 

"  Alexander  Pope  hath  sent  abroad  into  the  in  the  year  1720.     The  Procession  of  a  Lord 

world  as   many   Bulls  as  his  namesake  Pope  Mayor  is  made  partly  by  land,  and  partly  by 

Alexander.  ~\.^\.  us  take  the  initial  and  final  water.  —  Cimon,  the  famous  Athenian  General, 

letters  of  his  name.  viz.  A.  P  —  E,  and  they  obtained  a  victory  by  sea,  and  another  by  land, 

give  you  the  idea  of  an  Ape. — Pope  comes  from  on  the  same  day,  over  the  Persians  and  Barba- 

the  Latin  word  Popa^  which  signifies  a  little  rians.     P.     [The  battle  of  the  Eurymedon.] 
Wart;  or  from /^//^^w^,  because  he  was  con-         ^  Btit  livd  in    Settle's   numbers  one  day 

tinually  popping  out   squibs  of  wit,  or  rather  viore.'\     A  beautiful  manner  of  speaking,  usual 

Popysmata,  or  Popisms."    Dennis  on  Horn,  with  poets  in  praise  of  poetry.     Settle  was  poet 

and   Daily  Jourtial,  June  11,  1728.     P.     [A  to  the  City  of  London.     His  office  was  to  com- 

'  clench '  or  *  clinch '  was  a  common  expression  pose  yearly  panegyrics  upon  the  Lord  Mayors, 

for  a  pun.]  and  verses  to  be  spoken  in  the  pageants:  But 

1  Hoiv  Farce  and  Epic  —  How  Time  kitn-  that  part  of  the  shows  being  at  length  frugally 

self,  &'c.'\   Allude  to  the  transgressions  of  the  abolished,  the  employment  of  City-poet  ceased; 

Unities  in  the  Plays  of  such  Poets.     For  the  so  that  upon  Settle's  demise  there  was  no  suc- 

Miracles  wrought  upon  Time  and  Place,  and  cessor  to  that  place.     P.     [Part  ont.l     [As  to 

the  mixture  of  Tragedy  and  Comedy,  Farce  and  Elkanah  Settle,  see  To  the  Author  of  a  Poem 

Epic,  see  Pluto  and  Proserpine,  Penelope,  &c.  entitled  Successio;  in  Miscellaneous  Poems.l 
if  yet  extant.    P. 


THE  DUN-CTAD. 


375 


Much  to  the  mindful  Queen  the  feast  recalls  95 

What  City  Swans  once  sung  within  the  walls ; 

Much  she  revolves  their  arts,  their  ancient  praise, 

And  sure  succession  down  from  Hey  wood's^  days. 

She  saw,  with  joy,  the  line  immortal  run, 

Each  sire  imprest,  and  glaring  in  his  son :  lOO 

So  watchful  Bruin  forms,  with  plastic  care, 

Each  growing  lump,  and  brings  it  to  a  Bear. 

She  saw  old  Prynne  in  restless  Daniel  '^  shine, 

And  Eusden  eke  out  ^  Blackmore's  endless  line ; 

She  saw  slow  Philips  creep  like  Tate's  poor  page,  105 

And  all  the  mighty  Mad^  in  Dennis  rage. 

In  each  she  marks  her  Image  full  exprest. 
But  chief  in  Bays's  ^  monster-breeding  breast : 


*  yohn  Heywood,  whose  Interludes  were 
printed  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.     P. 

2  Old  Prynne  in  restless  Daniel]  The  first 
edition  had  it, 

She  saw  in  Norton  all  his  father  shine: 
a  great  mistake !  for  Daniel  De  Foe  had  parts, 
but  Norton  De  Foe  was  a  wretched  writer,  and 
never  attempted  Poetry.  Much  more  justly  is 
Daniel  himself  made  successor  to  W,  Pryn,  both 
of  whom  wrote  Verses  as  well  as  Politics.  And 
both  these  authors  had  a  semblance  in  their  fates 
as  well  as  writings,  having  been  alike  sentenced 
to  the  Pillory.  P.  [Part£»w.  William  Prynne 
was  in  the  year  1633  sentenced  to  a  fine  of  ;^5ooo, 
placed  in  tne  pillory,  and  sentenced  to  imprison- 
ment till  he  should  recant,  on  account  of  his 
Histriomasiix,  written  in  condemnation  of 
plays  and  supposed  to  reflect  on  Queen  Henri- 
etta Maria.  De  Foe  underwent  a  similar  pun- 
ishment in  1703  for  his  book  the  Shortest  Way 
with  the  Dissenters,  but  was  not,  like  Prynne, 
subjected  to  the  penalty  of  losing  his  ears,  as 
Pope  implies  infra,  Bk.  11.  v.  147.] 

3  Afid  Eusdeti  eke  out,  &r'c.'\  Laurence  Eus- 
den, Poet  Laureate  [before  Gibber].  Mr.  Jacob 
gives  a  catalogue  of  some  few  only  of  his  works, 
which  were  very  numerous.  Of  Blackmore,  see 
Book  II.  Of  Philips,  Book  i.  262  and  Book  iii. 
^  rope  fin. 

Nahum  Tate  was  Poet  Laureate,  a  cold  writer, 
of  no  invention ;  but  sometimes  translated  toler- 
ably when  befriended  by  Mr.  Dryden.  In  his 
second  part  of  Absalom  and  Achitophel  are  above 
two  hundred  admirable  lines  together  of  that 
great  hand,  which  strongly  shine  thro'  the  insi- 
pidity of  the  rest.  Something  parallel  may  be 
observed  of  another  author  here  mentioned.  P. 
[Part  orn.] 

*  And  all  the  mighty  Mad]  This  is  by  no 
means  to  be  understood  literally,  as  if  Mr.  Den- 
nis were  really  mad,  according  to  the  Narrative 


of  Dr.  Norris  in  Swift  and  Pope's  Miscellanies. 
No  —  it  is  spoken  of  that  Excellent  and  Divine 
Madness,  so  often  mentioned  by  Plato:  that 
poetical  rage  and  enthusiasm,  with  which  Mr. 
D.  hath,  in  his  time,  been  highly  possessed; 
and  of  those  extraordinary  hints  and  motions 
whereof  he  himself  so  feelingly  treats  in  his 
preface  to  the  Rem,,  on  Pr.  Arth.  Mr.  John 
Dennis  was  the  son  of  a  Saddler  in  London  born 
in  1657.  He  paid  court  to  Mr.  Dryden;  and 
having  obtained  some  correspondence  with  Mr. 
Wycherley  and  Mr.  Congreve,  he  immediately 
obliged  the  public  with  their  Letters.  He  made 
himself  known  to  the  Government  by  many  ad- 
mirable schemes  and  projects;  which  the  Min- 
istry, for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves, 
constantly  kept  private.  For  his  character  as  a 
writer,  it  is  given  us  as  follows :  **  Mr.  Dennis 
is  excellent  at  Pindaric  writings, /^ry^^//jj/  reg- 
7ilar  in  all  his  performances,  and  a  person  of 
sound  Learning.  That  he  is  master  of  a  great 
deal  of  Penetration  and  Judgment,  his  criti- 
cisms (particularly  on  Prince  Arthur)  do 
sufficiently  demonstrate."  From  the  same  ac- 
count it  also  appears  "  that  he  writ  Plays  more 
to  get  Reputation  than  Money."  Dennis  of 
himself.  See  Giles  Jacob's  Lives  of  Dram. 
Poets,  p.  68,  69,  compared  with  p.  286.  [For 
an  account  of  the  life-long  combat  between 
Pope  and  his  arch-enemy  Dennis,  of  which  the 
former  had  by  no  means  invariably  the  best,  see 
hitroductory  Memoir.  Th e  Na rrative  on  the 
Frenzy  of  J.  D.  was  written  by  Pope  in  1713.] 

5  [As  to  Colley  Gibber  and  Theobald  see  In- 
troductory Remarks  to  the  Dunciad.] 

But  chief  in  Bays'* s,  ip'c.]     In  the  former 
Edd.  thus, 

*  But  chief,  in  Tibbald's  monster-breeding  breast; 
Sees  Gods  with  Daemons  in  strange  league  in- 

gage, 
And  earth,  and  heav'n,  and  hell  her  battles  wage. 


n^ 


THE  DUNCTAD. 


^^\ 


Bays,  formed  by  nature  Stage  and  Town  to  bless,^ 

And  act,  and  be,  a  Coxcomb  with  success.  no 

Dulness,  with  transport  eyes  the  lively  Dunce, 

Remembring  she  herself  was  Pertness  once. 

Now  (shame  to  Fortune!'-^)  an  ill  Run  at  Play 

Blank'd  his  bold  visage,  and  a  thin  Third  day :  * 

Swearing  and  supperless  the  Hero  sate,  115 

BlasphemM  his  Gods,  the  Dice,  and  damn'd  his  Fate ; 

Then  gnaw'd  his  pen,  then  dash'd  it  on  the  ground, 

Sinking  from  thought  to  thought,*  a  vast  profound! 

Plung'd  for  his  sense,  but  found  no  bottom  there ; 

Yet  wrote  and  floundered  on  in  mere  despair.  120 

Round  him  much  Embryo,  much  Abortion  lay,^ 

Much  future  Ode,  and  abdicated  Play ; 

Nonsense  precipitate,  like  running  Lead, 

That  slippM  thro'  Cracks  and  Zig-zags  of  the  Head ; 

All  that  on  Folly  Frenzy  could  beget,  125 

Fruits  of  dull  Heat,  and  Sooterkins  ^  of  Wit, 

Next,  o'er  his  Books  his  eyes  began  to  roll. 

In  pleasing  memory  of  all  he  stole. 

How  here  he  sipp'd,  how  there  he  plundered  snug, 

And  suck'd  all  o'er,  like  an  industrious  Bug. 


She  ey'd  the  Bard,  where  supperless  he  sate, 
And  pin'd,  unconscious  of  his  rising  fate; 
Studious  he  sate,  with  all  his  Books  around. 

Sinking  from  thought  to  thought,'  &c. 

Var.  Tibbald'X  Author  of  a  pamphlet  intitled, 
Shakespear  restord.  During  two  whole  years 
while  Mr.  Pope  was  preparing  his  Edition  of 
Shakespear,  he  published  Advertisements,  re- 
questing assistance,  and  promising  satisfaction 
to  any  who  could  contribute  to  its  greater  per- 
fection. But  this  Restorer,  who  was  at  that 
time  soliciting  favours  of  him  by  letters,  did 
wholly  conceal  his  design,  till  after  its  publica- 
tion; (which  he  was  since  not  ashamed  to  own, 
in  a  Daily  Journal  of  Nov.  26,  1728).  And 
then  an  outcry  was  made  in  the  Prints,  that  our 
Author  had  joined  with  the  Bookseller  to  raise 
an  extravagant  stibscription;  in  which  he  had 
no  share,  of  which  he  had  no  knowledge,  and 
against  which  he  had  publickly  advertised  in 
his  own  proposals  for  Homer.  Probably  that 
proceeding  elevated  Tibbald  to  the  dignity  he 
holds  in  this  Poem,  which  he  seems  to  deserve 
no  other  way  better  than  his  brethren;  unless 
we  impute  it  to  the  share  he  had  in  the  Journals, 
cited  among  the  Testimonies  of  A  uthors  pre- 
fixed to  this  work.     P. 

1  Bays,  form' d  by  nature,  &'c.'\  It  is  hoped 
the  poet  here  hath  done  full  justice  to  his  Hero's 
character,  which  it  were  a  great  mistake  to  im- 
agine was  wholly  sunk  in  stupidity :  he  is  allowed 
to  have  supported  it  with  a  wonderful  mixture 


130 

of  Vivacity.  This  character  is  heightened  ac- 
cording to  his  own  desire,  in  a  Letter  he  wrote 
to  our  author.  "  Pert  and  dull  at  least  you 
might  have  allowed  me.  What!  am  I  only  to 
be  dull,  and  dull  still,  and  again,  an^  for  ever." 
He  then  solemnly  appealed  to  his  own  con- 
science, "  that  he  could  not  think  himself  so, 
nor  believe  that  our  Poet  did;  but  that  he  spoke 
worse  of  him  than  he  could  possibly  think;  and 
concluded  it  must  be  merely  to  shew  his  Wit, 
or  for  some  Profit  or  Lucre  to  himself."  Life 
of  C.  C.  chap.  vii.  and  Letter  to  Mr.  P.  pag,  15, 
40,  53-     P- 

2  Shame  to  Fortune/I  Because  she  usually 
shews  favour  to  persons  of  this  Character,  who 
have  a  three-fold  pretence  to  it.     P. 

3  \^A  thin  Third  day,  i.e.  of  the  performance 
of  one  of  his  plays.] 

*  From  Lord  Rochester  on  Man: 

*  Stumbling  from  thought  to  thought.' 

Warton. 

5  Round  him  mtich  Embryo,  <5r»f:.]  In  the 
former  Editions  thus, 

*  He  roll'd  his  eyes  that  witness'd  huge  dismay 
Where  yet  unpawn'd  much  learned  lumber  lay 
Volumes,  whose  size  the  space  exactly  fill'd. 
Or  which  fond  authors  were  so  good  to  gild. 
Or  where,  by  sculpture  made  for  ever  known. 
The  page  admires  new  beauties  not  its  own. 
Here  swells  the  shelf,*  &c. Warburton. 

6  [False  births.] 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


377 


*  Here  lay  poor  Fletcher's  half-eat  scenes,^  and  here 

The  Frippery- of  crucify'd  Moliere;  ^    .   ■  ^^QJX^ 

JThere  hapless  Shakespear,^  yet  of  Tibbald  sore,'"!'^^ 

Wish'd  he  had  blotted  *  for  himself  before.  J 

The  rest  on  Out-side  merit  but  presume,^  I35 

Or  serve  (like  other  Fools)  to  fill  a  room ; 
1  Such  with  their  shelves  as  due  proportion  hold, 
/  Or  their  fond  parents  drest  in  red  and  gold ; 

Or  where  the  pictures  for  the  page  atone, 
LAnd  Quarles^  is  sav'd  by  Beauties  not  his  own.  140 

Here  swells  the  shelf  with  Ogilby  the  great ;  "^ 

There,  stamp'd  with  arms,  Newcastle  shines  complete :  ^ 

Here  all  his  suff 'ring  brotherhood  retire, 

And  'scape  the  martyrdom  of  jakes  and  fire  : 

A  Gothic  Library!  of  Greece  and  Rome  145 


'  Poor  Fletcher's  half-eat  scenes^  A  great 
number  of  them  taken  out  to  patch  up  his 
Plays.  P. 

2  The  Frippery]  "  When  I  fitted  up  an  old 
play,  it  was  as  a  good  housewife  will  mend  old 
linen,  when  she  has  not  better  employment." 
Life,  p.  217.  octavo.     P. 

3  Hapless  Shakespear,  &'c.']  It  is  not  to  be 
doubted  but  Bays  was  a  subscriber  to  Tibbald's 
Shakespear.  He  was  frequently  liberal  this 
way;  and,  as  he  tells  us,  ''subscribed  to  Mr. 
Pope's  Homer,  out  of  pure  Generosity  and  Civil- 
ity; but  when  Mr.  Pope  did  so  to  his  Nonjuror, 
he  concluded  it  could  be  nothing  but  a  joke." 
Letter  to  Mr.  P.  p.  24. 

This  Tibbald,  or  Theobald,  published  an  edi- 
tion of  Shakespear,  of  which  he  was  so  proud 
himself  as  to  say,  in  one  of  Mist's  Journals, 
June  8,  "  That  to  expose  any  Errors  in  it  was 
impracticable."  And  in  another,  April  27, 
"  That  whatever  care  might  for  the  future  be 
taken  by  any  other  Editor,  he  would  still  give 
above  five  hundred  emendations,  that  shall  es- 
cape them  all."     P. 

"*  Wish'd  he  had  blotted]  It  was  a  ridicu- 
lous praise  which  the  Players  gave  to  Shake- 
spear, "  that  he  never  blotted  a  line."  Ben  Jon- 
son  honestly  wish'd  he  had  blotted  a  thousand; 
and  Shakespear  would  certainly  have  wished 
the  same,  if  he  had  lived  to  see  those  alterations 
in  his  works,  which,  not  the  Actors  only  (and 
especially  the  daring  Hero  of  this  poem)  have 
made  on  the  Stage,  but  the  presumptuous  Crit- 
ics of  our  days  in  their  Editions.     P. 

^  The  rest  on  Out-side  merit,  ^fc]  This 
Library  is  divided  into  three  parts;  the  first 
consists  of  those  authors  from  whom  he  stole, 
and  whose  works  he  mangled;  the  second,  of 
such  as  fitted  the  shelves,  or  were  gilded  for 


shew,  or  adorned  with  pictures;  the  third  class 
our  author  calls  solid  learning,  old  Bodies  of 
Divinity,  old  Commentaries,  old  English  Print- 
ers, or  old  English  Translations;  all  very  volu- 
minous, and  fit  to  erect  altars  to  Dulness.     P. 

6  [The  author  of  the  Emblems,  whom  Pope 
sneers  at  in  Imitations  0/  Horace,  Bk.  ii.  Ep.  i. 
V-  377-] 

^  Ogilby  the  Great;]  "  John  Ogilby  was 
one,  who,  from  a  late  initiation  into  literature, 
made  such  a  progress  as  might  well  style  him 
the  prodigy  of  his  time !  sending  into  the  world 
so  many  large  Volumes!  His  translations  of 
Homer  and  Virgil  done  to  the  life,  and  with 
such  excellent  sculptures:  And  (what  added 
great  grace  to  his  works)  he  printed  them  all  on 
special  good  paper,  and  in  a  very  good  letter" 
Witistanly,  Lives  of  Poets.  P.  [Ogilby  (born 
1600,  died  1676,)  began  life  as  a  dancing-master, 
and  after  being  educated  by  charity  at  Cam- 
bridge, came  before  the  public  both  as  poet  and 
printer.  It  is  in  the  latter  capacity  that  he  is 
chiefly  remarkable;  from  his  press  at  White- 
friars  he  issued  a  large  variety  of  works,  among 
which  his  Maps  became  specially  famous.] 

8  There,  stamp'd  with  arms,  Newcastle 
shines  complete:]  "  The  Duchess  of  Newcastle 
was  one  who  busied  herself  in  the  ravishing  de- 
lights of  Poetry;  leaving  to  posterity  in  print 
three  ample  Vohimes  of  her  studious  endeav- 
ours." Wiustanly,  ibid.  Langbane  reckons 
up  eight  Folios  of  her  Grace's;  which  were  usu- 
ally adorned  with  gilded  covers,  and  had  her 
coat  of  arms  upon  them.  P.  [The  Duchess  of 
Newcastle,  in  the  times  of  the  Commonwealth 
and  Charles  II.,  published  a  large  number  of 
poetical  and  '  philosophical '  works,  and  a  kind 
of  narrative  cyclopaedia  called  the  World'i 
Olio.] 


378 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


\a^ 


Well  purged,  and  worthy  Settle,  Banks,  and  Broome.^ 
But,  high  above,  more  solid  Learning  '-^  shone, 

The  Classics  of  an  Age  that  heard  of  none ; 

There  Caxton  '^  slept,  with  Wynkyn  at  his  side, 

One  clasp'd  in  wood,  and  one  in  strong  cow-hide;  150 

There  savM  by  spice,  like  mummies,  many  a  year, 

Dry  Bodies  of  Divinity  appear  ; 

De  Lyra*  there  a  dreadful  front  extends, 
■And  here  the  groaning  shelves  Philemon  ^  bends. 

Of  these  twelve  volumes,  twelve  of  amplest  size,  155 

Redeem  M  from  tapers  and  defrauded  pies, 

InspirM  he  seizes  ;  these  an  altar  raise  ; 

An  hecatomb  of  pure  unsully'd  lays 
JThat  altar  crowns  ;     A  folio  Common-place 
I  Founds  the  whole  pile,  of  all  his  works  the  base;  160 

Quartos,  octavos,  shape  the  lessening  pyre ; 

A  twisted  Birth-day  Ode  completes  the  spire. ^ 
Then  he  :  "  Great  Tamer  of  all  human  art ! 

First  in  my  care,  and  ever  at  my  heart ; 

Dulness!  whose  good  old  cause  I  yet  defend,  165 

With  whom  my  Muse  began,  with  whom  shall  end. 

E'er  since  Sir  Fopling's  Periwig"^  was  Praise, 

Word,  his  successor,  in  that  of  Hen.  VII.  and 
VIII.  The  former  translated  into  prose  Virgil's 
iEneis,  as  a  history,  of  which  he  speaks,  in  his 
Proeme,  in  a  very  singular  manner,  as  of  a  book 
hardly  known.     P.     [Part^w.] 

*  Nich.  de  Lyra,  or  Harpsfield,  a  very  volu- 
minous commentator,  whose  works,  in  five  vast 
folios,  were  printed  in  1472.     P. 

^  Philemon  Holland,  Doctor  in  Physic. 
"  He  translated  so  many  books,  that  a  man 
would  think  he  had  done  nothing  else;  inso- 
much that  he  might  be  called  Translator  gen- 
eral 0/ his  age.  The  books  alone  of  his  turning 
into  English  are  sufficient  to  make  a  Country 
Gentleman  a  complete  Library.     Winstanly, 

P. 

6  A  twisted,  tSr^c]  in  the  former  Edd. 
*  And  last,  a  little  Ajax  tips  the  spire.' 

Warburton. 

A  little  Ajax\  in  duodecijno,  translated 
from  Sophocles  by  Tibbald.  P.  [The  birth- 
day Ode  of  course  substituted  in  allusion  to  Gib- 
ber's laureateship.     Cf.  v.  168.] 

■^  E'er  since  Sir  Fop  ling's  Periwig^  The 
first  visible  cause  of  the  passion  of  the  Town  for 
our  Hero  was  a  fair  flaxen  full-bottom'd  periwig, 
which,  he  tells  us,  he  wore  in  his  first  play  of 
the  Fool  in  fashion.  This  remarkable  Periwig 
usually  made  its  entrance  upon  the  stage  in  a 
sedan,  brought  in  by  two  chairmen,  with  infinite 
approbation  of  the  audience.    P.     [Part  om.'\ 


*  Worthy  Settle,  Banks,  and  Broome.\ 
The  Poet  has  mentioned  these  three  authors  in 
particular,  as  they  are  parallel  to  our  Hero  in 
three  capacities:  i.  Settle  was  his  brother  Lau- 
reate; only  indeed  upon  half-pay,  for  the  City 
instead  of  the  Court;  but  equally  famous  for  un- 
intelligible flights  in  his  poems  on  public  occa- 
sions, such  as  Shows,  Birth-days,  ^'e.  2.  Banks 
was  his  Rival  in  Tragedy  (tho'  more  successful) 
in  one  of  his  Tragedies,  the  Earl  of  Essex, 
which  is  yet  alive:  Anna  Boleyn,  the  Queen 
of  Scots,  and  Cyrus  the  Great,  are  dead  and 
gone.  These  he  drest  in  a  sort  of  Beggar's  Vel- 
vet, or  a  happy  Mixture  of  the  thick  Fustian 
and  thin  Prosaic;  exactly  imitated  in  Perolla 
and  Isidora,  Ccesar  in  Egypt,  and  the  Heroic 
Datighter.  3.  Broome  was  a  serving-man  of 
Ben  Jonson,  who  once  picked  up  a  Comedy  from 
his  Betters,  or  from  some  cast  scenes  of  his  Mas- 
ter, not  entirely  contemptible.     P. 

2  More  solid  Learning^  Some  have  objected, 
that  books  of  this  sort  suit  not  so  well  the  library 
of  our  Bays,  which  they  imagine  consisted  of 
Novels,  Plays,  and  obscene  books;  but  they  are 
to  consider,  that  he  furnished  his  shelves  only 
for  ornament,  and  read  these  books  no  more 
than  the  Dry  Bodies  of  Divinity,  which,  no 
doubt,  were  purchased  by  his  father,  when  he 
designed  him  for  the  Gown.  See  the  note  on 
V.  200.     P. 

8  Caxtonl  A  Printer  in  the  time  of  Edward 
IV.   Rich.  III.  and  Hen.  VII.;    Wynkyn  de 


THE  DUNCTAD,  379 

To  the  last  honours  of  the  Butt  and  Bays : 
-  O  thou!  of  Business  the  directing  soul! 
^^'\'^     ;  To  this  our  head  like  bias  to  the  bowl,  170 

.    ^^'^^i  Which,  as  more  ponderous,  made  its  aim  more  true, 

^^  Obliquely  waddling  to  the  mark  in  view : 

O !  ever  gracious  to  perplexM  mankind, 
Still  spread  a  heahng  mist  before  the  mind ; 
And,  lest  we  err  by  Wit's  wild  dancing  light,  175 

Secure  us  kindly  in  our  native  night. 
Or,  if  to  Wit  a  coxcomb  make  pretence,^ 
Guard  the  sure  barrier  between  that  and  Sense ; 
Or  quite  unravel  all  the  reasoning  thread, 
And  hang  some  curious  cobweb  in  its  stead!  180 

As,  forced  from  win d-guiis,  lead  itself  can  fly,^ 
And  ponderous  slugs  cut  swiftly  thro'  the  sky ; 
As  clocks  to  weight  their  nimble  motion  owe, 
The  wheels  above  urg'd  by  the  load  below : 
Me  Emptiness,  and  Dulness  could  inspire,  185 

And  were  my  Elasticity  and  Fire. 
Some  Daemon  stole  my  pen  (forgive  th'  offence) 
And  once  betrayed  me  into  common  sense : 
Else  all  my  Prose  and  Verse  were  much  the  same ; 
This  prose  on  stilts,  that  poetry  falPn  lame.  I90 

Did  on  the  stage  my  Fops  appear  confin'd? 
My  life  gave  ampler  lessons  to  mankind. 
Did  the  dead  letter  unsuccessful  prove? 
The  brisk  Example  never  faiPd  to  move. 
Yet  sure  had  Heav'n  decreed  to  save  the  State,  195 

Heav'n  had  decreed  these  works  a  longer  date. 
Could  Troy  be  sav'd  by  any  single  hand, 
This  grey-goose  weapon  must  have  made  her  stand. 
What  can  I  now?  my  Fletcher  ^  cast  aside, 

*  Or,  if  to  Wit,  ^€."1  in  the  former  Edd.  2  ^^^  forc'd  from  wind-guns,  &*f .]     The 

*  Ah !    still  o'er    Britain    stretch   that  peaceful  thought  of  these  four  verses  is  found  in  a  poem 

wand,  of  our  Author's  of  a  very  early  date  (namely 

Which  lulls  th' Helvetian  and  Batavian  land;  written  at  fourteen  years  old,  and  soon  after 

Where  rebel  to  thy  throne  if  Science  rise,  printed)  to  the  author  of  a  poem  called  SuC' 

She  does  but  shew  her  coward  face,  and  dies:  cessio.     [See    Miscellaneotis    Poems.^     War- 

There  thy  good  Scholiasts  with  unweary'd  pains  burton. 

Make  Horace  flat,  and  humble  Maro's  strains:  ^  j^y  Fletcher'\  A  familiar  manner  of  speak- 
Here  studious  I  unlucky  Moderns  save,  ing,  used  by  modern  Critics,  of  a  favourite  au- 
Nor  sleeps  one  Error  in  its  father's  grave,  thor.  Bays  might  as  justly  speak  thus  of 
Old  puns  restore,  lost  blunders  nicely  seek,  Fletcher,  as  a  French  Wit  did  of  Tully,  seeing 
And  crucify  poor  Shakespear  once  a  week.  his  works  in  his  library,  "Ah!  mon  cher  Cice- 
For  thee  supplying,  in  the  worst  of  days,  ron;  je  le  connois  bien;  c'est  le  m8me  que  Marc 
Notes  to  dull  books,  and  prologues  to  dull  plays;  Tulle."  But  he  had  a  better  title  to  call  Fletcher 
Not  that  my  quill  to  critics  was  confin'd,  his  own,  having  made  so  free  with  him.  P.  [In 
My  verse  gave  ampler  lessons  to  mankind;  our  day,  Pope's  spleen  would  have  inevitably 
So  gravest  precepts  may  successless  prove,  been  aroused  by  the  corresponding  practice  on 
But  sad  examples  never  fail  to  move.  the  part  of  '  critics '  who  make  free  with  the  Chris' 
As  forc'd  from  wind-guns/  &;>€»       Warburton,  tian  names  of  *  Sam  Johnson'  and  his  equals.] 


38o 


THE  DUNCTAD. 


.^^ 


Take  up  the  Bible,  once  my  better  guide?  ^  200 

Or  tread  the  path  by  vent'rous  Heroes  trod, 

This  Box  my  Thunder,  this  right  hand  my  God? 

Or  chair'd  at  White's  amidst  the  Doctors  sit, 

Teach  Oaths  to  Gamesters,  and  to  Nobles  Wit? 

Or  bidst  thou  rather  Party  to  embrace?  205 

(A  friend  to  Party  thou,  and  all  her  race  ; 

'Tis  the  same  rope  at  different  ends  they  twist; 

To  Dulness  Ridpath  is  as  dear  as  Mist. 2) 

Shall  I,  like  Curtius,  desperate  in  my  zeal, 

O'er  head  and  ears  plunge  for  the  Commonweal?  2I0 

Or  rob  Rome's  ancient  geese  of  all  their  glories, 

And  cackling  save  the  Monarchy  of  Tories? 

Hold  — to  the  Minister  I  more  incline  ; 

To  serve  his  cause,  O  Queen !  is  serving  thine. 

And  see!  thy  very  Gazetteers^  give  o'er,  215 

Ev'n  Ralph  *  repents,  and  Henley  writes  no  more. 
I IWhat  then  remains?  Ourself.  Still,  still  remain 
j  Cibberian  forehead,  and  Cibberian  brain. 

This  brazen  Brightness,  to  the  'Squire  so  dear ; 

This  polish'd  Hardness,  that  reflects  the  Peer:  220 

This  arch  Absurd,  that  wit  and  fool  delights ; 

This  Mess,  toss'd  up  of  Hockley-hole  ^  and  Whites  ; 

Where  Dukes  and  Butchers  join  to  wreathe  my  crown, 

At  once  the  Bear  and  Fiddle  of  the  town. 

^'  O  born  in  sin,  and  forth  in  folly  brought !  ^  225 

^      Y^  Works  damn'd,  or  to  be  damn'd!  (your  father's  fault) 
.  'x     >yv        Go,  purify'd  by  flames  ascend  the  sky, 
^    <y-'*^         ^^ly  better  and  more  christian  progeny!  '^ 

y^  Unstain'd,  untouch'd,  and  yet  in  maiden  sheets ;    . 

While  all  your  smutty  sisters  walk  the  streets.  230 

Ye  shall  not  beg,  like  gratis-given  Bland, 

Sent  with  a  Pass,^  and  vagrant  thro'  the  land ; 


1  Take  up  the  Bible,  once  my  better  guide  f'] 
When,  according  to  his  Father's  intention,  he  had 
been  a  Clergy vtan,  or  (as  he  thinks  himself)  a 
^/j^£'/of  the  Church  of  England.  P.  [Part(?;«.] 

This  learned  Critic  is  to  be  understood  alle- 
gorically:  The  Doctors  in  this  place  mean  no 
more  than  false  Dice,  a  Cant  phrase  used 
amongst  Gamesters.  So  the  meaning  of  these 
four  sonorous  lines  is  only  this,  *'  Shall  I  play 
fair  or  foul  ?  "     P. 

2  Ridpath  —  Mist.]  George  Ridpath  author 
of  a  Whig  paper,  called  the  Flying-post;  Na- 
thaniel Mist,  of  a  famous  Tory  Journal.     P. 

3  Gazetteers]  A  band  of  ministerial  writers, 
hired  at  the  price  mentioned  in  the  note  on 
Book  II.  ver.  316,  who,  on  the  very  day  their 
patron  quitted  his  post,  laid  down  their  paper, 
and  declared  they  would  never  more  meddle  in 
Politics.     P. 


4  [Ralph/  cf.  Pope's  note  to  Bk.  iii.  v.  165.] 

5  [Hockley-hole.  Cf.  Imit.  of  Hor.  Bk.  n. 
Sat.  I.  V.  49.] 

6  O  born  in  sin,  <2r»c.]  This  is  a  tender  and 
passionate  Apostrophe  to  his  own  works,  which 
he  is  going  to  sacrifice  agreeable  to  the  nature 
of  man  in  great  affliction;  and  reflecting  like  a 
parent  on  the  many  miserable  fates  to  which 
they  would  otherwise  be  subject.     P. 

^  My  better  and  more  christian  progeny!] 
**  It  may  be  observable,  that  my  muse  and  my 
spouse  were  equally  prolific;  that  the  one  was 
seldom  the  mother  of  a  Child,  but  in  the  same 
year  the  other  made  me  father  of  a  Play.  I 
think  we  had  a  dozen  of  each  sort  between  us; 
of  both  which  kinds  some  died  in  their  Infancy^* 
^c.     Life  of  C.  C.    P. 

8  Gratis-given  Bland,  Sent  with  a  Pass,] 
It  was  a  practice  so  to  give  the  Daily  Gazetteer 


THE  DUNCTAD. 


381 


f^ 


Not  sail  with  Ward,  to  Ape-and-monkey  climes,*  I 

Where  vile  Mundungus  trucks  for  viler  rhymes : 

Not  sulpHur-tipt,  emblaze  an  Ale-house  fire ;  235 

Not  wrap  up  Oranges,  to  pelt  your  sire! 

O!  pass  more  innocent,  in  infant  state,  J^ 

To  the  mild  Limbo  of  our  Father  Tate  :  ^ 
"P         Or  peaceably  forgot,  at  once  be  blest 
'  In  Shadweirs^  bosom  with  eternal  Rest!  240 

Soon  to  that  mass  of  Nonsense  to  return, 

Where  things  destroy'd  are  swept  to  things  unborn." 
With  that,  a  Tear  (portentous  sign  of  Grace!) 

Stole  from  the  Master  of  the  sev'nfold  Face ; 

And  thrice  he  lifted  high  the  Birth-day  brand,  245 

And  thrice  he  dropt  it  from  his  quivVing  hand ; 

Then  lights  the  structure,  with  averted  eyes : 

The  rolling  smoke  involves  the  sacrifice. 

The  opening  clouds  disclose  each  work  by  turns : 

Now  flames  the  Cid,^  and  now  Perolla^  burns ;  *  250 

Great  Caesar  roars,  and  hisses  in  the  fires ; 
/     King  John  in  silence  modestly  expires  ;  ® 

No  merit  now  the  dear  Nonjuror  claims, 

Moliere's  old  stubble  "^  in  a  moment  flames. 

Tears  gush'd  again,  as  from  pale  Priam's  eyes  255 

When  the  last  blaze  sent  Ilion  to  the  skies.^ 


and  ministerial  pamphlets  (in  which  this  B.  was 
a  writer),  and  to  send  them  Post-free  to  all  the 
Towns  in  the  kingdom.  P.  Bland  was  the 
Provost  of  Eton.     Warton. 

1  —  With  Ward,  to  Ape-and-ntonkey 
climes,']  "  Edward  Ward,  a  very  voluminous 
Poet  in  Hudibrastic  verse,  but  best  known  by 
the  London  Spy,  in  prose.  He  has  of  late  years 
kept  a  public  house  in  the  City  (but  in  a  genteel 
way) ,  and  with  his  wit,  humour,  and  good  liquor 
(ale)  afforded  his  guests  a  pleasurable  entertain- 
ment, especially  those  of  the  high-church  party." 
Jacob,  Lives  of  Poets,  vol.  ii.  p.  225.  Great 
number  of  his  works  were  yearly  sold  into  the 
Plantations.  —  Ward,  in  a  book  called  Apollo's 
Maggot,  declared  this  account  to  be  a  great 
falsity,  protesting  that  his  public  house  was  not 
in  the  City,  but  in  Moorjields.  P.  [According 
to  Bowles,  this  Ward  had  given  no  special  cause 
of  offence  to  Pope.] 

2  Tate  —  Shadwelt]  Two  of  his  predecessors 
in  the  Laurel.     P. 

8  ['  Ximenes,*  founded  on  Corneille's  Cid.] 

*  ['  Perolla  and  Izadora.'] 

^  Now  flames  the  Cid,  &^<r.]  In  the  first 
notes  on  the  Dunciad  it  was  said,  that  this  Au- 
thor was  particularly  excellent  at  Tragedy. 
**  This  (says  he)  is  as  unjust  as  to  say  I  could 
not  dance  on  a  Rope."     But  certain  it  is  that  he 


had  attempted  to  dance  on  this  Rope,  and  fell 
most  shamefully,  having  produced  no  less  than 
four  Tragedies  (the  names  of  which  the  Poet 
preserves  in  these  few  lines),  the  three  first  of 
them  were  fairly  printed,  acted,  and  damned; 
the  fourth  suppressed,  in  fear  of  the  like  treat- 
ment.    P. 

6  [*  such  was  the  Hiss 

Welcom'd  his  Ccesar  to  th'  Egyptian  shore, 
Such  was  the  Hiss,  in  which  great  John  should 

have  expired: 
But  wherefore  do  I  strive  in  vain  to  number 
Those  glorious  Hisses,  which  from  age  to  age 
Our   family   has    borne    triumphant    from    the 
stage?" 
Pistol  (Theophilus  Gibber)  in  Fielding's 
Historical  Register  for  1736.] 

"^  The  dear  Nonjuror — Moliere's  old  stub- 
ble'] A  Comedy  threshed  out  of  Moliere's 
Tartuffe,  and  so  much  the  Translator's  favour- 
ite, that  he  assures  us  all  our  author's  dislike  to 
it  could  only  arise  from  disaffection  to  the  Gov- 
ernment. P.  [Part  cm.  This  play,  however, 
is  still  occasionally  performed.] 

8  When  the  last  blaze  sent  Ilion  to  the 
skies.]  See  Virgil,  y^n.  11.  where  I  would 
advise  the  reader  to  peruse  the  story  of  Troy's 
destruction,  rather  than  in  Wynkyn.  Scribl. 
[Part  om,'\ 


382  THE  DUNCIAD. 

Rous'd  by  the  light,  old  Dulness  heav'd  the  head, 
Then  snatch'd  a  sheet  of  Thule  ^  from  her  bed ; 
Sudden  she  flies,  and  whelms  it  o'er  the  pyre ; 
Down  sink  the  flames,  and  with  a  hiss  expire.  260 

Her  ample  presence  fills  up  all  the  place ; 
■^     A  veil  of  fogs  dilates  her  awful  face  :  '^ 

Great  in  her  charms!  as  when  on  Shrieves  and  May'rs 

She  looks,  and  breathes  herself  into  their  airs. 

She  bids  him  wait  her  to  her  sacred  Dome  :  ^  265 

Well  pleasM  he  entered,  and  confessed  his  home. 

So  Spirits  ending  their  terrestrial  race 

Ascend,  and  recognize  their  Native  Place. 

This  the  Great  Mother*  dearer  held  than  all 

The  clubs  of  Quidnuncs,  or  her  own  Guildhall :  270 

Here  stood  her  Opium,  here  she  nurs'd  her  Owls, 

And  here  she  planned  th'  Imperial  seat  of  Fools. 

Here  to  her  Chosen  all  her  works  she  shews ; 
Prose  swelPd  to  verse,  verse  loit'ring  into  prose : 
.       ^  How  random  thoughts  now  meaning  chance  to  find,  275 

^  Now  leave  all  memory  of  sense  behind ; 

How  Prologues  into  Prefaces  decay, 
And  these  to  Notes  are  frittered  quite  away . 
How  Index-learning  turns  no  student  pale, 
V  Yet  holds  the  eel  of  science  by  the  tail :  280 

How,  with  less  reading  than  makes  felons  scape. 
Less  human  genius  than  God  gives  an  ape. 
Small  thanks  to  France,  and  none  to  Rome  or  Greece, 
trj-^r-*"^  A  vast,  vamp'd,  future,  old,  revivM,  new  piece, 

^^^  'Twixt  Plautus,  Fletcher,  Shakespear,  and  Corneille,  285 

Can  make  a  Cibber,  Tibbald,^  or  Ozell.® 

The  Goddess  then,  o'er  his  anointed  head. 
With  mystic  words,  the  sacred  Opium  shed. 

*  Thule]  An  unfinished  poem  of  that  name,  clubs,  who    were    constantly   enquiring    quid 

of  which  one  sheet  was  printed  many  years  ago,  nunc?  what  news?    P. 

by  Amb.  Philips,  a  northern  author.     It  is  an         ^  Tibbald,]    Lewis  Tibbald  (as  pronounced) 

usual  method  of  putting  out  a  fire,  to  cast  wet  or  Theobald  (as  written)  was  bred  an  Attorney, 

sheets  upon  it.     Some  critics  have  been  of  opin-  and  son  to  an  Attorney  (says  Mr.  Jacob)   of 

ion  that  this  sheet  was  of  the  nature  of  the  As-  Sittenburn  in  Kent.     He  was  author  of  some 

bestos,  which  cannot  be  consumed  by  fire:  but  forgotten  Plays,  Translations,  and  other  pieces. 

I  rather  think  it  an  allegorical  allusion  to  the  He  was  concerned  in  a  paper  called  the  Censor, 

coldness  and  heaviness  of  the  writing.     P.  and  a  Translation  of  Ovid.     P.     [Part  om.'\ 

2  [Wakefield  traces  the  origin  of  this  line  to         ^  Ozell.]    "  Mr.  John  Ozell  (if  we  credit  Mr. 

Dryden's  MacFlecknoe:  Jacob)  did  go  to  school  in  Leicestershire,  where 

*  His  brows  thick  fogs,  instead  of  glories,  grace,  somebody  left  him  somethijig  to  live  on,  when  he 

And  lambent  dulness  play'd  around  his  face.']  shall  retire  from  business.     He  was  designed  to 

2  Sacred  Dome:]    Where  he  no  sooner  en-  be  sent  to  Cambridge,  in  order  for  priesthood; 

ters,  but  he  reconnoitres  the  place  of  his  origi-  but  he  chose  rather  to  be  placed  in  an  office  of 

nal;    as  Plato  says   the   spirits   shall,  at  their  accounts,  in  the  City,  being  qualified  for  the 

entrance  into  the  celestial  regions.     P.  same  by  his  skill  in  arithmetic,  and  writing  the 

^  Great  Mother]    Magna  mater,  here   ap-  necessary //a^af^y.    He  has  obliged  the  world  with 

plied  to   Dulness.     The   Quidnuncs,   a  name  many  translations  of  French  Plays."     Jacob, 

given  to  the  ancient  members  of  certain  political  Lives  of  Dram,  Poets ^  p.  198.    P.    [Part  om!\ 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


383 


ffsJu^X 


r 


SJ^ 


:Y 


And  lo !  her  bird  (a  monster  of  a  fowl, 

Something  betwixt  a  Heideggre  ^  and  Owl) 

PerchM  on  his  crown.     "  All  hail!  and  hail  again, 

My  son  :  the  promis'd  land  expects  thy  reign. 

Know,  Eusden  thirsts  no  more  for  sack  or  praise ;  ^ 
;  He  sleeps  among  the  dull  of  ancient  days  ; 
I  Safe,  where  no  Critics  damn,  no  duns  molest, 
\  Where  wretched  Withers, ^  Ward,  and  Gildon  *  rest, 

And  high-born  Howard,^  more  majestic  sire, 
^  With  Fool  of  Quality  completes  the  quire. 
i  Thou,  Gibber!  thou,  his  Laurel  shalt  support. 

Folly,  my  son,  has  still  a  Friend  at  Court. 

Lift  up  your  Gates,  ye  Princes,  see  him  come! 

Sound,  sound,  ye  Viols  ;  be  the  Cat-call  dumb! 

Bring,  bring  the  madding  Bay,  the  drunken  Vine ; 

The  creeping,  dirty,  courtly  Ivy  join. 

■And  thou!  his  Aid-de-camp,  lead  on  my  sons, 
[Light-armM  with  Points,  Antitheses,  and  Puns. 
ILet  Bawdry,  Billingsgate,  my  daughters  dear, 

ISupport  his  front,  and  Oaths  bring  up  the  rear : 
/And  under  his,  and  under  Archer's  wing, 
/Gaming  and  Grub-street  skulk  behind  the  King.* 
U  "  O !  when  shall  rise  a  Monarch  all  our  own, 


290 


295 


300 


^' 


^f^, 


305 


310 


^  A  Heideggre]  A  strange  bird  from  Switzer- 
land, and  not  (as  some  have  supposed)  the  name 
of  an  eminent  person  who  was  a  man  of  parts, 
and,  as  was  said  of  Petronius,  A  rbiter  Elegan- 
tiaruvi.  P.  [The  German  Hey  dagger,  who 
held  the  Opera-house  with  Handel,  and  man- 
aged it,  according  to  Dibdin,  *  like  another  Gib- 
ber,' introduced  masquerades  into  England.  He 
brought  them  into  such  vogue,  that  in  1729  he 
was  presented  as  a  nuisance  by  the  Grand  Jury. 
He  said  of  himself  that  '  he  had  come  to  Eng- 
land out  of  Switzerland  without  a  farthing,  and 
had  then  found  means  to  get  ;{^5ooo  a  year,  and 
spend  it.'  In  a  facetious  fragment  by  Pope,  pub- 
lished in  Roscoe's  Supplement  (1825),  he  is 
apostrophised  as  **  false  Heidegger,  who  wert  so 
wicked  To  let  in  the  Devil."] 

2  Ver.  293.    Know,  Eusdeuy  d^c]     In  the 
former  Editions. 
*  Know,  Settle,  cloy'd  with  custard  and  with 

praise, 
Is  gather'd  to  the  dull  of  ancient  days. 
Safe  where  no  critics  damn,  no  duns  molest, 
Where  Gildon,  Banks,  and  high-born  Howard 

rest. 
I  see  a  King !  who  leads  my  chosen  sons 
To  lands  that  flow  with  clenches  and  with  pun.s: 
Till  each  fam'd  theatre  my  empire  own; 
Till  Albion,  as  Hibernia,  bless  my  throne ! 
I  see !  I  see !  —  then  rapt  she  spoke  no  more, 


God  save  King  Tibbald !  Grubstreet  alleys  roar. 
So  when  Jove's  block,'  &c.  Warburton. 

3  Withers^  *  George  Withers  was  a  great 
pretender  to  poetical  zeal  against  the  vices  of 
the  times,  and  abused  the  greatest  personages  in 
power,  which  brought  upon  him  frequent  cor- 
rection. The  Marshalsea  and  Newgate  were  no 
strangers  to  him.'  Winstanley.  P.  [He  went 
over  from  the  Royalist  to  the  Parliamentary 
side;  yet  his  honesty  is  undoubted  and  his 
power  as  a  satirist  now  generally  acknowledged.] 

*  Gildon]  Charles  Gildon,  a  writer  of  criti- 
cisms and  libels  of  the  last  age,  bred  at  St. 
Omer's  with  the  Jesuits;  but  renouncing  pop- 
ery, he  published  Blount's  books  against  the 
divinity  of  Christ,  the  Oracles  of  Reason,  &c. 
He  signalized  himself  as  a  critic,  having  written 
some  very  bad  Plays;  abused  Mr.  P.  very  scan- 
dalously in  an  anonymous  pamphlet  of  the  Life 
of  Mr.  Wycherley,  printed  by  Curl;  in  another 
called  the  New  Rehearsal,  printed  in  1714;  in  a 
third,  entitled,  the  Complete  Art  of  English  Po- 
etry, in  two  volumes;  and  others.  P.  [See 
note  to  Ei>istle  to  Arbuthnot,  v.  151.] 

5  Howard,]  Hon.  Edward  Howard,  author 
of  the  British  Princes,  and  a  great  number  of 
wonderful  pieces,  celebrated  by  the  late  Earls 
of  Dorset  and  Rochester,  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
Mr.  Waller,  &c.    P. 

«  Under  A  rcher's  wing,  —  Gaming,  &*c»1 


384  THE  DUNCIAD. 

And  I,  a  Nursing-mother,  rock  the  throne ; 

'Twixt  Prince  and  People  close  the  Curtain  draw, 

Shade  him  from  Light,  and  cover  him  from  Law ; 

Fatten  the  Courtier,  starve  the  learned  band,  315 

And  suckle  Armies,  and  dry-nurse  the  land : 

Till  Senates  nod  to  Lullabies  divine, 

And  all  be  sleep,  as  at  an  Ode  of  thine." 

She  ceas'd.     Then  swells  the  Chapel-royal  ^  throat : 
"  God  save  King  Cibber!  "  mounts  in  evVy  note.  320 

Familiar  White's,  ^'  God  save  King  CoUey !  "  cries ; 
""  God  save  King  Colley !  "  Drury-lane  replies  ; 
'  To  Needham's  quick  the  voice  triumphal  rode, 
But  pious  Needham  ^  dropt  the  name  of  God  ; 
Back  to  the  Devil  ^  the  last  echoes  roll,  325 

And  "  Coll ! ''  each  Butcher  roars  at  Hockley-hole. 

So  when  Jove's  block  descended  from  on  high 
(As  sing's  thy  great  forefather  Ogilby  *) 
Loud  thunder  to  its  bottom  shook  the  bog, 
And  the  hoarse  nation  croak'd,  " God  save  King  Log!"       330 


THE   DUNCIAD. 

BOOK  THE  SECOND. 

ARGUMENT. 

The  King  being  proclaimed,  the  solemnity  is  graced  with  public  Games,  and  sports  of 
various  kinds  ;  not  instituted  by  the  Hero,  as  by  y^neas  in  Virgil,  but  for  greater  honour 
by  the  Goddess  in  person   {in  like  manner  as  the  games  Pythia,  Isthmia,  &^c.  were 

When  the  Statute  against  Gaming  was  drawn  ferred  to  by  Pope,  see  Evelyn's  Diary,  8  Jan. 

up,  it  was  represented,  that  the  King,  by  ancient  1667-8,  et  al.] 

custom,  plays  at  Hazard  one  night  in  the  year;  1  Chapel-royal]    The  voices  and  instruments 

and  therefore  a  clause  was  inserted,  with  an  ex-  used  in  the  service  of  the  Chapel-royal  being  also 

ception  as  to  that  particular.     Under  this  pre-  employed  in  the  performance  of  the  Birth-day 

tence,  the  Groom-porter  had  a  room  appropri-  and  New-year  Odes.     P. 

ated  to  Gaming  all  the  summer  the  Court  was  2  5^^  pz'or/s  Needham]     A  Matron  of  great 

at  Kensington,  which  his  Majesty  accidentally  fame,   and  very  religious   in   her  way;   whose 

being  acquainted  of  with  a  just  indignation  pro-  constant  prayer  it  was,  that  she  might  "  get 

hibited.     It  is  reported  the  same  practice  is  yet  enough  by  her  profession  to  leave  it  off"  in  time, 

continued  wherever  the  Court  resides,  and  the  and  make  her  peace  with  God."     But  her  fate 

Hazard  Table  there  open  to  all  the  professed  was  not  so  happy;  for  being  convicted  and  set 

Gamesters  in  town.  in  the  pillory,  she  was  (to  the  lasting  shame  of 

*  Greatest  and  justest   Sov'reign  !    know  you  all  her  great  Friends  and  Votaries)  so  ill  used  by 

this?  the  populace,  that  it  put  an  end  to  her  days.    P. 

Alas!  no  more  than  Thames'  calm  head  can  s  Back  to  the  Devil]     The  Devil  Tavern  in 

know  Fleet-street,  where  these  Odes  are  usually  re- 

Whose  meads  his  arms  drown  or  whose  corn  hearsed  before  they  are  performed  at  Court.     P. 

derflow*     Donne  to  Queen  Eliz.     P.  [Cf  Imit.  of  Hor.  Bk.  11.  Ep.  I.  v.  91.] 

[Cf.    The   Basset-Table,   v.  99.     The  Groom-  ^  Ogilby)  — God  save  King  Log!]    SeeOgil- 

porter  was  an  officer  in  the  royal  household  who  by's  ^sop's  Fables,  where,  in  the  story  of  the 

had  succeeded  to  most  of  the  functions  of  the  Frogs  and  their  King,  this  excellent  hemistic  is 

Master  of  the  Revels.    As  to  the  practice  re-  to  be  found.    P.     [Part  om.^ 


THE  DUNCIAD.  385 

anciently  said  to  be  ordained  by  the  Gods,  and  as  Thetis  herself  appearing,  according  to 
Homer,  Odyss.  -jl^xw.  proposed  the  prizes  in  honour  of  her  son  Achilles).  Hither  fiock  the 
Poets  and  Critics,  attended,  as  is  but  just  ^  with  their  Patrons  and  Booksellers.  The  God- 
dess is  first  pleased,  for  her  disport,  to  pi  opose  games  to  the  Booksellers,  and  setteth  up 
the  Phantom  of  a  Poet,  which  they  contend  to  overtake.  The  Races  described,  with  their 
divers  accidents.  A'ext,  the  gatne  for  a  Poetess.  Then  follow  the  Exercises  for  the 
Poets,  of  tickling,  vociferating,  diving  :  The  first  holds  forth  the  arts  and  practices  of 
Dedicators,  the  second  <?/ Disputants  and  fustian  Poets,  the  third  ^/profound,  dark,  and 
dirty  Party-writers.  Lastly,  for  the  Critics,  the  Goddess  proposes  {with  great  propriety) 
an  Exercise,  not  of  their  parts,  but  their  patience,  in  hearing  the  works  of  two  voluminous 
Authors,  one  in  verse,  and  the  other  in  prose,  deliberately  read  without  sleeping :  The 
various  effects  of  which,  with  the  several  degrees  and  manners  of  their  operation,  are  here 
set  forth ;  till  the  whole  number,  not  of  Critics  only,  but  of  spectators,  actors,  and  all 
present,  fall  asleep  ;  which  naturally  and  necessarily  ends  the  games. 


BOOK   II. 

2)k*-l^         T  TIGH  on  a  gorgeous  seat,  that  far  out-sbone  \  <_) ' 

JTj.    Henley^s  gilt  tub,^  or  Fleckno's  Irish  throne,*    I        ^ 
Or  that  where  on  her  Curls  the  Public  pours,^  ^'" 

All-bounteous,  fragrant  Grains  and  Golden  show'rs,        ^ 
Great  Cibber  sate  :  The  proud  Parnassian  sneer,  5 

The  conscious  simper,  and  the  jealous  leer, 
Mix  on  his  look :  All  eyes  direct  their  rays 
On  him,  and  crowds  turn  Coxcombs  as  they  gaze : 
His  Peers  shine  round  him  with  reflected  grace, 
New  edge  their  dulness,  and  new  bronze  their  face.  10 

So  frorn  the  Sun's  broad  beam  in  shallow  urns 

*  Henley's  gilt  tjtb,']     The  pulpit  of  a  Dis-  It  may  be  just  worth  mentioning,  that  the 

sen ter  is  usually  called  a  Tub ;  but  that  of  Mr.  Eminence,  from  whence  the  ancient   Sophists 

Orator  Henley  was  covered  with  velvet,  and  entertained  their  auditors,  was   called   by   the 

adorned  with  gold.     He  had  also  a  fair  altar,  pompous  name  of  a  throne; — cttI  Qpovov  tivq^ 

and  over  it  this  extraordinary  inscription,  The  v\f/r]\ov  juaAa  a-o^to-rt/cws  koI  o-ojSapa)?.     Them- 

Primitive  Eucharist.     See  the  history  of  this  istius,  Orat.  i.     P. 

person.  Book  in.  [v.  199].     P.  3  Qr  that  where  on  her  Curls  the  Public 

'  Or   Fleckno^s    Irish    throne^      Richard  pours,'\     Edmund  Curl  stood  in  the  pillory  at 

Fleckno  was  an  Irish  priest,  but  had  laid  aside  Charingcross,  in  March  1727-8.     "  This  (saith 

(as  himself  expressed  it)  the  mechanic  part  of    Edmund  Curl)  is  a  false  assertion I  had  in- 

priesthood.  He  printed  some  plays,  poems,  let-  deed  the  corporal  punishment  of  what  the  Cen- 
ters, and  travels.  I  doubt  not  our  Author  took  tlemen  of  the  long  robe  are  pleased  jocosely  to 
occasion  to  mention  him  in  respect  to  the  poem  call  mounting  the  Rostrum  for  one  hour;  but 
of  Mr.  Dryden,  to  which  this  bears  some  resem-  that  scene  of  action  was  not  in  the  month  of 
blance,  though  of  a  character  more  different  March,  but  in  February."  And  of  the  His- 
from  it  than  that  of  the  iEneid  from  the  Iliad,  tory  of  his  being  tost  in  a  Blanket,  he  saith, 
or  the  Lutrin  of  Boileau  from  the  D^fait  de  Bouts  **  Here,  Scriblerus!  thou  leeseth  in  what  thou 
rimees  of  Sarazin.  P.  [It  is  not  known  whether  assertest  concerning  the  blanket;  it  was  not  a 
Flecknoe  had  actually  died  about  the  time  (1682)  blanket,  but  a  rug.'"  Much  in  the  same  man- 
when  Dryden  wrote  his  famous  satire,  or  whether  ner  Mr.  Cibber  remonstrated,  that  his  Brothers, 
the  latter  with  careless  malice  gave  unenviable  at  Bedlam,  mentioned  Book  i.  were  not  Brazen, 
notoriety  to  a  harmless  living  writer,  who  had  but  Blocks;  yet  our  Author  let  it  pass  unal- 
to  the  best  of  his  ability  honoured  Dryden  him-  tered,  as  a  trifle  that  no  way  altered  the  relation- 
self.  As  to  the  relations  between  the  Dunciad  ship.  Scriblerus, 
and  Dryden's  Satire  see  Introduction  to  Dun- 
ciad,  p.  349.] 

2C 


1,/>V^^ 


386  THE  DUNCTAD. 

Heav'n's  twinkling  Sparks  draw  light,  and  point  their  horns. 

Not  with  more  glee,  by  hands  pontific  crown'd, 
With  scarlet  hats  wide-waving  circled  round, 
Rome  in  her  Capitol  saw  Querno  sit,i  15 

Thron'd  on  seven  hills,  the  Antichrist  of  wit. 

And  now  the  Queen,  to  glad  her  sons,  proclaims, 
By  herald  Hawkers,  high  heroic  Games. 
They  summon  all  her  Race  :  an  endless  band 
Pours  forth,  and  leaves  unpeopled  half  the  land.  20 

A  motley  mixture!  in  long  wigs,  in  bags, 

fin  silks,  in  crapes,'^  in  Garters,  and  in  Rags, 
From  drawing-rooms,  from  colleges,  from  garrets, 
On  horse,  on  foot,  in  hacks,  and  gilded  chariots : 
All  who  true  Dunces  in  her  cause  appeared,  25 

And  all  who  knew  those  Dunces  to  reward. 

Amid  that  area  wide  they  took  their  stand, 
Where  the  tall  may-pole  once  o'er-lookM  the  Strand. 
But  now  (so  Anne  and  Piety  ordain) 

A  Church  collects  the  saints  of  Drury-lane.^  30 

With  Authors,  Stationers^  obeyM  the  call, 
:i/\  .  -    (The  field  of  glory  is  a  field  for  all). 
*^  ^         Glory,  and  gain,  th'  industrious  tribe  provoke ; 
And  gentle  Dulness  ever  loves  a  joke. 

A  Poet's  form  she  placed  before  their  eyes,  35 

And  bade  the  nimblest  racer  seize  the  prize ; 
No  meagre,  muse-rid  mope,  adust  and  thin, 
In  a  dun  night-gown  of  his  own  loose  skin ; 
But  such  a  bulk  as  no  twelve  bards  could  raise. 
Twelve  starv'ling  bards  of  these  degenVate  days.  40 

All  as  a  partridge  plump,  full-fed,  and  fair. 
She  form'd  this  image  of  well-bodyM  air ; 
With  pert  flat  eyes  she  window'd  well  its  head : 

1  Rome  in  her  Capitol  saw  Querno  sit^         3  [<  in   front  of  the  spot  now  occupied  by 

Camillo  Querno  was  of  Apulia,  who,  hearing  the  St.  Mary-le-Strand,  commonly  called  the  New 

great   Encouragement  which   Leo  X.   gave   to  Church,  anciently  stood  a  cross,  at  which,  says 

poets,   travelled   to   Rome  with  a  harp  in  his  Stowe,  "  in  the  year  1294,  and  other  times,  the 

hand,  and  sung  to  it  twenty  thousand  verses  of  justices  itinerant  sat  without  London."     In  the 

a  poem  called  Alexias.     He  was  introduced  as  a  place  of  this  cross  was  set  up  a  May-pole,  which 

Buffoon  to  Leo,  and  promoted  to  the  honour  of  having  been  taken  down  in  1713,  a  new  one  was 

the  Laurel;  a  jest  which  the  Court  of  Rome  erected  opposite  Somerset  House.     This  second 

and  the  Pope  himself  entered  into  so  far,  as  to  May-pole  had  two  gilt  balls  and  a  vane  on  the 

cause  him  to  ride  on  an  elephant  to  the  Capitol,  summit,  and  was  decorated  on   holidays  with 

and  to  hold  a  solemn  festival  on  his  coronation ;  flags  and  garlands.     It  was  removed  in  1718, 

at  which  it  is  recorded  the  Poet  himself  was  so  probably  being  thought  in  the  way  of  the  new 

transported  as  to  weep  for  joy.     He  was  ever  church  which  was  then  being  erected.    Sir  Isaac 

after  a  constant  frequenter  of  the  Pope's  table,  Newton  begged  it  of  the  parish,  and  afterwards 

drank  abundantly,  and  poured  forth  verses  with-  sent  it  to  the  Rector  of  Wanstead,  who  set  it  up 

out   number.     Paulus  Jovius.     Some   idea  of  in  Wanstead  Park  to  support  the  then  largest 

his  poetry  is  given  by  Fam.  Strada,  in  his  Pro-  telescope  in  Europe.'     Leigh  Hunt's  Town.\ 
lusions.     P.  *  {Stationers^  i.e.  booksellers.] 

*  [The  material  of  an  ordinary  clergyman's 
gown.     Cf.  Moral  Essays^  Ep.  i.  y.  137.] 


THE  DUNCIAD.  387 

A  brain  of  feathers,  and  a  heart  of  lead ; 
And  empty  words  she  gave,  and  sounding  strain,  45 

But  senseless,  lifeless!  idol  void  and  vain! 
Never  was  dash'd  out,  at  one  lucky  hit, 
A  fool,  so  just  a  copy  of  a  wit ; 
Q*  -   ^^  So  like,  that  critics  said,  and  courtiers  swore, 

w^^  1   A  Wit  it  was,  and  calPd  the  phantom  Moore.^  50 

♦  (Lm9       1     ^^  S^^^  ^x'Ocv  ardour :  some  a  poet's  name, 

^yr>^'^^'^        I  Others  a  sword-knot  and  lac'd  suit  inflame. 
But  lofty  Lintot  ^  in  the  circle  rose : 
"  This  prize  is  mine  ;  who  tempt  it  are  my  foes ; 
"  With  me  began  this  genius,  and  shall  end."  55 

He  spoke  :  and  who  with  Lintot  shall  contend? 

Fear  held  them  mute.     Alone,  untaught  to  fear, 
Stood  dauntless  Curl ;  ^  "  Behold  that  rival  here! 
"  The  race  by  vigour,  not  by  vaunts  is  won ; 
^  "  So  take  the  hindmost.  Hell,"  (he  said)  "  and  run."  60 

'Swift  as  a  bard  the  bailiff  leaves  behind. 
He  left  huge  Lintot,  and  out-stripp'd  the  wind. 
As  when  a  dab-chick  ^  waddles  thro'  the  copse 
On  feet  and  wings,  and  flies,  and  wades,  and  hops : 
So  laboring  on,  with  shoulders,  hands,  and  head,  65 

Wide  as  a  wind-mill  all  his  figure  spread, 
.    With  arms'  expanded  Bernard  rows  his  state, 
And  left-legg'd  Jacob  seems  to  emulate. 
Full  in  the  middle  way  there  stood  a  lake, 
Which  Curl's  Corinna  ^  chanc'd  that  morn  to  make  :  70 

1  [Pope  has  a  note  too  long  for  insertion  on  lengths  beyond  what  it  ever  before  had  arrived 
the  sins  of  this  hated  personage,  James  Moore  at;  and  that  he  was  the  envy  and  admiration  of 
Smythe,  the  son  of  Arthur  Moore.  James  was  all  his  profession.  He  possessed  himself  of  a 
an  admirer  of  Teresa  Blount,  and  intimate  with  command  over  all  authors  whatever;  he  caused 
her  family,  as  well  as  an  occasional  associate  of  them  to  write  what  he  pleased ;  they  could  not 
Pope's  literary  circle.  He  was  the  author  of  a  call  their  very  Names  their  own.  He  was  not 
comedy  called  the  Rival  Modes,  in  which  he  only  famous  among  these;  he  was  taken  notice 
was  accused  by  Pope  of  having  plagiarised  the  of  by  the  State,  the  Church,  and  the  Law,  and 
lines  addressed  by  the  latter  to  Martha  Blount  received  particular  marks  of  distinction  from 
on  her  birth-day.     See  note  a^  Zee]  each.     P.     [Part  t?;;^.] 

2  But  lofty  Lintot'\  We  enter  here  upon  the  *  [A  dab-chick  is  a  small  water-fowl  which  is 
episode    of   the    Booksellers:    Persons,    whose  constantly  dabbling  under  the  water.] 

names  being  more  known  and  famous  in  the         ^  CtirVs  Coriufia']    This  name,  it  seems,  was 

learned  world  than  those  of  the  Authors  in  this  taken  by  one  Mrs.  T ,  who  procured  some 

poem,  do  therefore  need  less  explanation.  The  private  letters  of  Mr.  Pope,  while  almost  a  boy, 
action  of  Mr.  Bernard  Lintot  here  imitates  that  to  Mr.  Cromwell,  and  sold  them  without  the 
of  Dares  in  Virgil,  rising  just  in  this  manner  to  consent  of  either  of  those  Gentlemen  to  Curl, 
lay  hold  on  a  Bull.  This  eminent  Bookseller  who  printed  them  in  i2mo,  1727.  We  only  take 
printed  the  Rival  Modes  before-mentioned.  P.  this  opportunity  of  mentioning  the  manner  in 
[Young,  in  Spence's  Anecdotes,  calls  Lintot  *a  which  those  letters  got  abroad,  which  the  author 
great  sputtering  fellow.']  was  ashamed  of  as  very  trivial  things,  full  not 
®  Stood  dauntless  Curl/]  We  come  now  to  only  of  levities,  but  of  wrong  judgments  of  men 
a  character  of  much  respect,  that  of  Mr.  Edmund  and  books,  and  only  excusable  from  the  youth 
Curl.  As  a  plain  repetition  of  great  actions  is  and  inexperience  of  the  writer.  P.  Mrs.  Eliz- 
the  best  praise  of  them,  we  shall  only  say  of  this  abeth  Thomas  was  first  styled  Corinna  by  Dry- 
eminent  man,  that  he  carried  the  "Trade  many  den,  to  whom  she  sent  a  copy  of  verses.     She 


388  THE  DUNCIAD. 

(Such  was  her  wont,  at  early  dawn  to  drop 
Her  evening  cates  before  his  neighbour's  shop,) 
Here  fortun'd  Curl  to  slide ;  loud  shout  the  band, 
And  "  Bernard!  Bernard!  "  rings  thro'  all  the  Strand. 
Obscene  with  filth  the  miscreant  lies  bewray'd,  75 

FalPn  in  the  plash  his  wickedness  had  laid : 
Then  first  (if  Poets  aught  of  truth  declare) 
'        The  caitiff  Vaticide  conceived  a  pray'r. 

"  Hear,  Jove!  whose  name  my  bards  and  I  adore, 
As  much  at  least  as  any  God's,  or  more  ;  80 

And  him  and  his  if  more  devotion  warms, 
Down  with  the  Bible,  up  with  the  Pope's  Arms."  ^ 

A  place  there  is,  betwixt  earth,  air,  and  seas,^ 
Where,  from  Ambrosia,  Jove  retires  for  ease. 
There  in  his  seat  two  spacious  vents  appear,  85 

On  this  he  sits,  to  that  he  leans  his  ear. 
And  hears  the  various  vows  of  fond  mankind ; 
Some  beg  an  eastern,  some  a  western  wind : 
All  vain  petitions,  mounting  to  the  sky, 
With  reams  abundant  this  abode  supply ;  90 

Amus'd  he  reads,  and  then  returns  the  bills 
Sign'd  with  that  Ichor  which  from  Gods  distils.* 

In  office  here  fair  Cloacina ^  stands, 
And  ministers  to  Jove  with  purest  hands. 
Forth  from  the  heap  she  pick'd  her  Vot'ry's  pray'r,  95 

And  plac'd  it  next  him,  a  distinction  rare! 
Oft  had  the  Goddess  heard  her  servants  call, 
From  her  black  grottos  near  the  Temple-wall, 

tList'ning  delighted  to  the  jest  unclean 
Of  link-boys  vile,  and  watermen  obscene  ;  loo 

Where  as  he  fish'd  her  nether  realms  for  Wit,® 
She  oft  had  favour'd  him,  and  favours  yet. 
Renew'd  by  ordure's  sympathetic  force, 
As  oil'd  with  magic  juices  ^  for  the  course, 
Vig'rous  he  rises  ;  from  th'  effluvia  strong       _  105 

Imbibes  new  life,  and  scours  and  stinks  along  ;\  F" '  -' 
I  Re-passes  Lintot,  vindicate^,  the  race,  ^ 

I  Nor  heeds  the  brown  dishonours  of  his  face. 
And  now  the  victor  stretch'd  his  eager  hand, 


b-^ 


died,  in  want,  in  1730.     Camithers.     [On  the  A  stream  of  nee  f  rous  humour  issuing flo-vu  d , 

subject   of  this  *  unwarranted  publication '   see  Sanguine  ^  such  as  celestial  s frits  may  bleed. 

Introductory  Memoir,  p.  xxxiii.]  Milton  [Par.  Lost,  Bk,  vi.  v.  332J. 

1  Down  with  the  Bible,  up  with  the  Pole's  *  Cloacina']      The   Roman  Goddess  of   the 
Arms.]     The   Bible,   Curl's  sign;    the   Cross-  common-sewers.     P. 

key's,  Lintot's.     P.  ^  Where  as  he  fish'd,  6^^.]    See  the  preface 

2  See   Lucian's  Icaro-Menippus,  where  this  to  Swift's  and  Pope's  Miscellanies.     P. 
fiction  is  more  extended.     P.  ^  As  oiVd  with  magic  juices]     Alluding  to 

2  Ver.  92.  Alludes  to  Homer,  Iliad  V.  [v.  339].  the  opinion  that  there  are  ointments  used  by 

pee  6*  afx^poTov  alfia  ©e'oto,  witches  to  enable  them  to  fly  in  the  air,  &c.     P. 

'I\tiip  010$  nep  re  pe'ei  ixaKapeaaL  ®€Oi(ri,v. 


x^^^U.' 


THE  DUIVCIAD.  3S9 

Where  the  tall  Nothing  stood,  or  seem'd  to  stand;  no 

A  shapeless  shade,  it  melted  from  his  sight, 

Like  forms  in  clouds,  or  visions  of  the  night. 

To  seize  his  papers,  Curl,  was  next  thy  care ; 

His  papers  light  fly  diverse,  tost  in  air ; 

I  Songs,  sonnets,  epigrams  the  winds  uplift,  II5 

\  And  whisk  'em  back  to  Evans,  Young,  and  Swift.* 

Th'  embroider'd  suit  at  least  he  deem'd  his  prey; 

That  suit  an  unpaid  tailor  "^  snatchM  away. 

No  rag,  no  scrap,  of  all  the  beau,  or  wit, 

iThat  once  so  fluttered,  and  that  once  so  writ.  I20 

Heav'n  rings  with  laughter.     Of  the  laughter  vain, 

Dulness,  good  Queen,  repeats  the  jest  again. 

Three  wicked  imps  of  her  own  Grubstreet  choir, 

She  deckM  like  Congreve,  Addison,  and  Prior ;  ^ 

Mears,  Warner,  Wilkins  ^  run  :  delusive  thought!  125 

Breval,  Bond,  Besaleel,  the  varlets  caught. 

Curl  stretches  after  Gay,  but  Gay  is  gone : 

He  grasps  an  empty  Joseph  ^  for  a  John  ; 

So  Proteus,  hunted  in  a  nobler  shape. 

Became,  when  seiz'd,  a  puppy  or  an  ape.  130 

To  him  the  Goddess  :  "  Son!  thy  grief  lay  down, 

And  turn  this  whole  illusion  on  the  town :  ^ 

As  the  sage  dame,  experience  in  her  trade. 

By  names  of  Toasts  retails  each  batterM  jade  ; 

(Whence  hapless  Monsieur  much  complains  at  Paris  135 

Of  wrongs  from  Duchesses  and  Lady  Maries  ;  '^) 

'^  Evans,  Young,  and  Swift.l    Some  of  those  many  other  things  printed   in   news-papers. — 

persons,  whose  writings,  epigrams,  or  jests  he  "Bond  writ  a  satire  against    Mr,    P.  —  Capt, 

had  owned.     See  Note  on  v.  50.     Dr.  Evans,  of  "  Breval  was  author  of  the  Confederates,  an  in- 

St.  John's  College,  Oxford,  author  of  the  Appa-  "  genious  dramatic  performance,  to  expose  Mr. 

rzV/b«,  a  Satire  on  Tindal.     Warton.  "P.,  Mr.  Gay,  Dr.  Arb.  and  some   ladies  of 

^  An   unpaid    tailor\      This  line  has  been  "  quality,"  says  Curl.     P. 
loudly  complained  of  in  Mist,  June  8,  Dedic.         *  Mears,    Warner,    Wilk{ns\     Booksellers, 

to  Sawney,  and  others,  as  a  most  inhuman  sat-  and    Printers  of    much   anonymous   stuff.      P. 

ire  on  \\\&  poverty  of  Poets  :    But  it  is  thought  [As  to  Breval,  see  v.  237;   Bond's  and  Besaleel 

our  Author  would  be   acquitted  by  a  jury  of  Morris's  works  seem  according  to  Carruthers  to 

Tailors.     To  me  this  instance  seems  unluckily  have  disappeared.] 

chosen;    if  it  be  a  satire  on  any  body,  it  must         ^  Joseph  Gay,  a  fictitious  name  put  by  Curl 

be  on  a  bad  paymaster,  since  the  person   to  before  several  pamphlets,  which  made  them  pass 

whom  they  have  here  applied  it  was  a  man  of  with  many  for  Mr.  Gay's.     P.     The  antiquity  of 

fortune.     Not  but  poets  may  well  be  jealous  of  the  word  Joseph,  which  likewise  signifies  a  loose 

so  great  a  prerogative  as  non-paytnettt ;  which  upper-coat,  gives  much  pleasantry  to  the  idea. 

Mr.  Dennis   so   far   asserts,   as   boldly  to   pro-  Warbtirton.     [Wakefield  also  points   out   the 

nounce,   that   "  if  Homer   himself  was   not   in  allusion  to  Iliad  iii.   376,  and  to  the  story  of 

debt,  it  was  because  nobody  would  trust  him."  Ixion  embracing  a  cloud  instead  of  Juno.] 

P.         ^  And   turn    this    whole    illusion    on    the 

^  Like   Congreve,   Addison,   and  Prior  ;'\  town:]     It    was    a    common    practice   of   this 

These    authors   being   such   whose   names  will  bookseller    to    publish  vile    pieces  of   ob.scure 

reach  posterity,  we  shall  not  give  any  account  hands  under  the  names  of  eminent  authors.     P. 
of  them,  but  proceed   to  those  of  whom  it  is         ^  [See  note  to  Epilogue  to  Satires^  Dial.  i. 

necessary.  —  Besaleel    Morris  was    author    of  v.  iia.] 
<iome  satires  on  the  translators  of  Homer,  with 


390 


THE  DUNCIAD, 


Be  thine,  my  stationer!  this  magic  gift; 

Cook  shall  be  Prior,^  and  Concanen/-^  Swift : 

So  shall  each  hostile  name  become  our  own, 

And  we  too  boast  our  Garth  and  Addison."  ^  ^^q 

With  that  she  gave  him  (piteous  of  his  case, 
Yet  smiling  at  his  rueful  length  of  face) 
A  shaggy  Tap'stry,^  worthy  to  be  spread 
On  Codrus'  old,  or  Dunton's  modern  bed ;  ^ 
Instructive  work!  whose  wry-mouth'd  portraiture  145 

Display'd  the  fates  her  confessors  endure. 
Earless  on  high,  stood  unabashM  De  Foe,^ 
And  Tutchin  "^  flagrant  from  the  scourge  below. 
There  Ridpath,  Roper,^  cudgelPd  might  ye  view ; 
The  very  worsted  still  look  black  and  blue.  150 

Himself  among  the  story'd  chiefs  he  spies,^ 
As,  from  the  blanket,  high  in  air  he  flies ; 
And  *'  Oh! "  (he  cry'd)  **  what  street,  what  lane  but  knows 


*  Cook  shall  be  Prior ^  The  man  here  speci- 
fied writ  a  thing  called  The  Battle  of  Poets,  in 
which  Philips  and  Welsted  were  the  Heroes, 
and  Swift  and  Pope  utterly  routed.  He  also 
published  some  malevolent  things  in  the  British, 
London,  and  Daily  Journals;  and  at  the  same 
time  wrote  letters  to  Mr.  Pope,  protesting  his 
innocence.  His  chief  work  was  a  translation  of 
Hesiod,  to  which  Theobald  writ  notes  and  half 
notes,  which  he  carefully  owned.     P. 

2  [See  Pope's  note  to  v.  299.] 

3  And  we  too  boast  ozir  Garth  and  Addi- 
son.]  Nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  our 
author's  love  of  praising  good  writers.  He  has 
in  this  very  poem  celebrated  Mr.  Locke,  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  Dr.  Barrow,  Dr.  Atterbury,  Mr. 
Dryden,  Mr.  Congreve,  Dr.  Garth,  Mr.  Addi- 
son; in  a  word,  almost  every  man  of  his  time 
that  deserved  it;  even  Gibber  himself  (presum- 
ing him  to  be  author  of  the  Careless  Husband). 
It  was  very  difficult  to  have  that  pleasure  in  a 
poem  on  this  subject,  yet  he  has  found  means  to 
insert  their  panegyric,  and  has  made  even  Dul- 
ness  out  of  her  own  mouth  pronounce  it.  It 
must  have  been  particularly  agreeable  to  him 
to  celebrate  Dr.  Garth;  both  as  his  constant 
friend,  and  as  he  was  his  predecessor  in  this 
kind  of  satire.     P.     [Part^;«.] 

*  A  shaggy  Tap'stry\  A  sorry  kind  of  Tap- 
estry frequent  in  old  inns,  made  of  worsted  or 
some  coarser  stuff,  like  that  which  is  spoken  of 
by  Donne  —  Faces  as  frightftd  as  theirs  %vho 
whip  Christ  in  old  hangings.  The  imagery 
woven  in  it  alludes  to  the  mantle  of  Cloanthus, 
in  Mn.  v.  [v.  250,  ff.]     P. 

^  On  Codrus'  old,  or  Dunton's  modern 
bed';'\     Of  Codrus  the  poet's  bed,  see  Juvenal. 


describing  his  poverty  very  copiously.  Sat.  iii. 
103,  &c.  But  Mr.  Concanen,  in  his  dedication 
of  the  letters,  advertisements^  &c.  to  the  author 
of  the  Dunciad,  assures  us,  "  that  Juvenal  never 
satirized  the  Poverty  of  Codrus."     P. 

John  Dunton  was  a  broken  bookseller,  and 
abusive  scribbler;  he  writ  Neck  or  Nothing,  a 
violent  satire  on  some  ministers  of  state;  a  libel 
on  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  and  the  Bishop  of 
Peterborough,  &c.     P. 

^  [Cf.  ante,  note  to  Bk.  i.  v.  103.] 
"^  And  Tutchin  flagrant  from  the  scour ge'\ 
John  Tutchin,  author  of  some  vile  verses,  and 
of  a  weekly  paper  called  the  Observator:  He 
was  sentenced  to  be  whipped  through  several 
towns  in  the  west  of  England,  upon  which  he 
petitioned  King  James  II.  to  be  hanged.  When 
that  prince  died  in  exile,  he  wrote  an  invective 
against  his  memory,  occasioned  by  some  humane 
elegies  on  his  death.  He  lived  to  the  time  of 
Queen  Anne.  P.  [He  was  the  author  of  The 
Foreigner,  the  Satire  on  William  III.  which 
provoked  De  Foe's  True-born  Englishman. 
The  sentence  to  which  Pope  refers  was  pro- 
nounced by  Judge  Jeffreys,  but  remitted  in  re- 
turn for  a  bribe  which  reduced  the  prisoner  to 
poverty.  See  Macaulay's  History  0/ England, 
chap.  5.] 

8  There  Ridpath,  Roper,]  Author  of  the 
Flying-post  and  Post-boy,  two  scandalous  papers 
on  different  sides,  for  which  they  equally  and 
alternately  deserved  to  be  cudgelled,  and  were 
so.     P. 

9  Himself  among  the  story  d  chiefs  hespies,'\ 
The  history  of  Curl's  being  tossed  in  a  blanket, 
and  whipped  by  the  scholars  of  Westminster,  is 
well  known.     P.     [Part  om.'\ 


THE  DUNCTAD,  391 

Our  purgings,  pumpings,  blanketings,  and  blows  ? 

In  evYy  loom  our  labours  shall  be  seen,  155 

And  the  fresh  vomit  run  for  ever  green!" 

See  in  the  circle  next,  Eliza  ^  plac'd. 
Two  babes  of  love  close  clinging  to  her  waist ; 
Fair  as  before  her  works  she  stands  confessed, 
.^v3  In  flow'rs  and  pearls  by  bounteous  Kirkall  '^  dress'd.  160 

xj..^-  The  Goddess  then  :  "Who  best  can  send  on  high 

j>  "  The  salient  spout,  far-streaming  to  the  sky  ; 

'^  His  be  yon  Juno  of  majestic  size, 
"With  cow-like  udders,  and  with  ox-like  eyes. 
"This  China  Jordan  let  the  chief  overcome  165 

\       "Replenish,  not  ingloriously,  at  home." 

Osborne  ^  and  Curl  accept  the  glorious  strife, 
'  (Tho'  this  his  Son  dissuades,  and  that  his  Wife). 

One  on  his  manly  confidence  relies ; 

One  on  his  vigour  and  superior  size!  170 

First  Osborne  lean'd  against  his  lettered  post ; 
It  rose,  and  laboured  to  a  curve  at  most. 
^^         So  Jove's  bright  bow  displays  its  waf  ry  round, 
l\>       (Sure  sign  that  no  spectator  shall  be  drownM). 

A  second  effort  brought  but  new  disgrace  :  175 

The  wild  Maeander  washed  the  Artist's  face  ; 
1    .   ,         ^  Thus  the  small  jet,  which  hasty  hands  unlock, 
hn^/  C  -  ^'^  Spirts  in  the  gard'ner's  eyes  who  turns  the  cock. 
Not  so  from  shameless  Curl ;  impetuous  spread 
The  stream,  and  smoking  flourished  o'er  his  head.  180 

So  (fam'd  like  thee  for  turbulence  and  horns) 
Eridanus  his  humble  fountain  scorns ; 
Thro'  half  the  heav'ns  he  pours  th'  exalted  urn ; 
His  rapid  waters  in  their  passage  burn. 
I        Swift  as  it  mounts,  all  follow  with  their  eyes  :  185 

!    Still  happy  Impudence  obtains  the  prize. 
\  Thou  triumph'st,  Victor  of  the  high-wrought  day, 
I  And  the  pleas'd  dame,  soft  smiling,  lead'st  away. 
Osborne,  thro'  perfect  modesty  o'ercome, 
Crown'd  with  the  Jordan,  walks  contented  home.  190 

But  now  for  Authors  nobler  palms  remain ; 

*  Eliza  Haywood]      This  woman  was   au-  sell  Mr.  Pope's  subscription  books  of  Homer's 

thoress  of  those  most  scandalous  books  called  Iliad  at  half  the  price:  Of  which  books  he  had 

the  Court  of  Carimania,  and  the  new  Utopia,  none,  but  cut  to  the  size  of  them  (which  was 

P.     [Part  om.']  Quarto)  the  common  books  in   folio,  without 

2  Kirkall,  the  name  of  an  Engraver.  Some  Copper-plates,  on  a  worse  paper,  and  never 
of  this  Lady's  works  were  printed  in  four  vol-  above  half  the  value.  P.  [Part  om.]  Of  Os- 
umes  in  i2mo,  with  her  picture  thus  dressed  up  borne  Johnson  used  to  say,  that  he  had  no  sense 
before  them.     P.  of  any  shame,  but  that  of  being  poor.     Bannis- 

3  Osborne,  Thomas]  A  bookseller  in  Gray's-  Ur  [quoted  by  Bowles,  who  refers  to  the  well- 
inn,  very  well  qualified  by  his  impudence  to  act  known  episode  in  Boswell,  concerning  J.'s 
this  part;  and  therefore  placed  here  instead  of  a  summary  chastisement  of  O.  See  Boswell  ad 
less  deserving  Predecessor.    This  man  published  ann.  1742.] 

advertisements  for  a  year  together,  pretending  to 


v^-^ 


392  THE  D  UNCI  AD, 

"Room  for  my  Lord!  "  three  jockeys  in  his  train; 
Six  huntsmen  with  a  shout  precede  his  chair: 
He  grins,  and  looks  broad  nonsense  with  a  stare. 
His  Honour's  meaning  Dulness  thus  exprest,  I95 

"  He  wins  this  Patron,  who  can  tickle  best." 
^   y^  He  chinks  his  purse,  and  takes  his  seat  of  state : 

^  With  ready  quills  the  Dedicators  wait; 

Now  at  his  head  the  dext'rous  task  commence, 

And,  instant,  fancy  feels  th'  imputed  sense ;  200 

Now  gentle  touches  wanton  o'er  his  face. 

He  struts  Adonis,  and  affects  grimace : 

Rolli  ^  the  feather  to  his  ear  conveys, 

Then  his  nice  taste  directs  our  Operas : 

Bentley  ^  his  mouth  with  classic  flatt'ry  opes,  205 

And  the  puff 'd  orator  bursts  out  in  tropes. 

But  Welsted  ^  most  the  Poet's  healing  balm 

Strives  to  extract  from  his  soft,  giving  palm ; 

Unlucky  Welsted !  thy  unfeeling  master. 

The  more  thou  ticklest,  gripes  his  fist  the  faster.  2I0 

While  thus  each  hand  promotes  the  pleasing  pain, 
And  quick  sensations  skip  from  vein  to  vein ; 
>'  .r      A  youth  unknown  to  Phoebus,  in  despair,"* 
^^  Puts  his  last  refuge  all  in  heav'n  and  pray'r. 

fvp         ,     What  force  have  pious  vows !     The  Queen  of  Love  215 

V    •     His  sister  sends,  her  vot'ress,  from  above. 
As,  taught  by  Venus,  Paris  learnt  the  art 
^^, ,  To  touch  Achilles'  only  tender  part ; 

*  Secure,  thro'  her,  the  noble  prize  to  carry, 

He  marches  off  his  Grace's  Secretary!  220 

"Now  turn  to  diiT'rent  sports,"  (the  Goddess  cries) 
"  And  learn,  my  sons,  the  wond'rous  pow'r  of  Noise. 
To  move,  to  raise,  to  ravish  ev'ry  heart, 
With  Shakespear's  nature,  or  with  Jonson's  art, 

1  Paolo  Antonio  Rolli,  an  Italian  Poet,  and  on  Mr.  P.  and  some  of  his  friends  about  the  year 
writer  of  many  Operas  in  that  language,  which,  1718.  He  writ  other  things  which  we  cannot 
partly  by  the  help  of  his  genius,  prevailed  in  remember.  You  have  him  again  in  Book  iii. 
England  near  twenty  years.  He  taught  Italian  169.  P.  [Part  om.\  [He  was  a  hanger-on  of 
to  some  fine  Gentlemen,  who  affected  to  direct  the  Whigs,  and  a  copious  writer.] 
the  Operas.     P.  ^  A  yotitk  unknown  to  Phoebus,  &'cJ]     The 

2  Bentley  his  mouth,  <Sr'^.]  Not  spoken  of  satire  of  this  Episode,  being  levelled  at  the  base 
the  famous  Dr.  Richard  Bentley,  but  of  one  flatteries  of  authors  to  worthless  wealth  or  great- 
Tho.  Bentley,  a  small  critic,  who  aped  his  uncle  ness,  concludes  here  with  an  excellent  lesson  to 
in  a  little  Horace.  The  great  one  who  was  such  men:  That  altho'  their  pens  and  praises 
intended  to  be  dedicated  to  the  Lord  Halifax,  were  as  exquisite  as  they  conceit  of  themselves, 
but  (on  a  change  of  the  Ministry)  was  given  to  yet  (even  in  their  own  mercenary  views)  a  creat- 
the  Earl  of  Oxford ;  for  which  reason  the  little  ure  unlettered,  who  serveth  the  passions,  or 
one  was  dedicated  to  his  son  the  Lord  Harley.  pimpeth  to  the  pleasures  of  such  vain,  braggart, 
P.     [Part  om.'l  puft  Nobility,  shall  with  those  patrons  be  much 

3  JVelsted]     Leonard  Welsted,  author  of  the  moreinward,  and  of  them  much  higher  rewarded. 
Triumvirate,  or  a  Letter  in  verse  from  Palaemon  Scribl. 
to  Cselia  at  Bath,  which  was  meant  for  a  satire 


THE  DUNCIAD.  393 


-,^v^ 


Let  others  aim :  't  is  yours  to  shake  the  soul  225 

LntA^  With  Thunder  rumbling  from  the  mustard-bowl,* 

\^  With  horns  and  trumpets  now  to  madness  swelly 

Now  sink  in  sorrows  with  a  tolling  bell ;  ^ 
j  Such  happy  arts  attention  can  command, 

When  fancy  flags,  and  sense  is  at  a  stand.  230 

-    \  Improve  we  these.     Three  Cat-calls  ^  be  the  bribe 
Of  him,  whose  chatt'ring  shames  the  monkey-tribe ; 
And  his  this  Drum,  whose  hoarse  heroic  bass 
Drowns  the  loud  clarion  of  the  braying  Ass." 

Now  thousand  tongues  are  heard  in  one  loud  din ;  235 

The  monkey-mimics  rush  discordant  in ; 
'T  was  chattVing,  grinning,  mouthing,  jabb'ring  all, 
And  Noise  and  Norton,^  Brangling  and  Breval, 
Dennis  and  Dissonance,  and  captious  Art, 
And  Snip-snap  short,  and  Interruption  smart,  240 

And  Demonstration  thin,  and  Theses  thick, 
And  Major,  Minor,  and  Conclusion  quick. 
" Hold! "  (cry'd  the  Queen),  "a  Cat-call  each  shall  win 
Equal  your  merits!  equal  is  your  din! 

But  that  this  well-disputed  game  may  end,  245 

Sound  forth,  my  Brayers,  and  the  welkin  rend." 

As,  when  the  long-ear'd  milky  mothers  wait 
At  some  sick  miser's  triple  bolted  gate. 
For  their  defrauded,  absent  foals  they  make 
A  moan  so  loud,  that  all  the  guild  awake ;  250 

Sore  sighs  sir  Gilbert,^  starting  at  the  bray. 
From  dreams  of  millions,  and  three  groats  to  pay. 
So  swells  each  wind-pipe ;  Ass  intones  to  Ass ; 
Harmonic  twang!  of  leather,  horn,  and  brass  ; 

(Such  as  from  laboring  lungs  th'  Enthuiast  blows,  255 

High  Sound,  attempered  to  the  vocal  nose ; 
;  Or  such  as  bellow  from  the  deep  Divine ; 

There,  Webster!  peaPd  thy  voice,  and  Whitfield!^  thine. 

"^  With  Thunder  rumbling  frojn  the  mus-         ^  Nor  ton, '\      See    ver.    417.  —  J,    Durant 

tard-bowl,']     The  old  way  of  making  Thunder  Breval,  author  of  a  very  extraordinary  Book 

and  Mustard  were  the  same;   but  since,  it  is  of  Travels,  and  some  Poems.     See  before,  note 

more  advantageously  performed  by  troughs  of  on  ver.  126.     P.     [The  word  *  brangle '  (to  oscil- 

wood  with  stops  in  them.    Whether  Mr.  Dennis  late;  another  form  of  brandle,  Fr.  branler)  was 

was  the  inventor  of  that  improvement,  I  know  confounded  with  *  wrangle.'] 
not;  but  it  is  certain,  that  being  once  at  a  Trag-         6  Sir  Gilbert  [Heathcote,  of.  Moral  Essays, 

edy  of  a  new  author,  he  fell  into  a  great  passion  Ep.  in.  v.  loi]. 

at  hearing  some,  and  cried,  "  'Sdeath !  that  is  my         ^  Webstet — and  Whityield/'\     The  one  the 

'Thunder.'"    P.     [Dennis' tragedy  was  ^//zV<j  writer  of  a  News- paper  called  the  Weekly  Mis- 

and  Virginia;  and  'his  thunder'  was  used  in  cellany,  the  other  a  Field-preacher.     Warbur- 

Macbeth.     See  note  to  Essay  on  Criticism,  v.  ton.     [George  Whitfield,  the  early  associate  of 

586.]  the  Wesleys,  was  born  in  1714  and  first  attracted 

2  —  with  a  tolling  bell;'\  A  mechanical  help  general  attention  by  his  preaching  at  Bristol  and 
to  the  Pathetic,  not  unuseful  to  the  modern  London  in  1736.  John  Wesley  was  induced  by 
writers  of  Tragedy.     P.  his  example  to  commence  field-preaching.    He 

3  Three  Cat-calls^     Certain  musical  instru-  died  in  America  in  1770.] 
ments  used  by  one  sort  of  Critics  to  confound 

the  poets  of  the  Theatre.    P. 


394  THE  DUNCIAD, 

But  far  o'er  all,  sonorous  Blackm ore's  strain; 
Walls,  steeples,  skies,  bray  back  to  him  again.  260 

In  Tot'nham  fields,  the  brethren,  with  amaze, 
Prick  all  their  ears  up,  and  forget  to  graze ; 
Long  Chanc'ry-lane  ^  retentive  rolls  the  sound, 
And  courts  to  courts  return  it  round  and  round ; 
Thames  wafts  it  thence  to  Rufus'  roaring  hall,^  265 

And  Hungerford  re-echoes  bawl  for  bawl. 
^^^  All  hail  him  victor  in  both  gifts  of  song, 

Who  sings  so  loudly,  and  who  sings  so  long,^ 
This  labour  past,  by  Bridewell  all  descend,* 
/■  (As  morning  pray'r  and  flagellation  end)  ^  270 

I    To  where  Fleet-ditch  with  disemboguing  streams 
Rolls  the  large  tribute  of  dead  dogs  to  Thames, 
A/^        The  king  of  dykes!  than  whom  no  sluice  of  mud 
With  deeper  sable  blots  the  silver  flood. 
"Here  strip,  my  children!  here  at  once  leap  in,  275 

"  Here  prove  who  best  can  dash  thro'  thick  and  thin, 
^^j^"^       (  "  And  who  the  most  in  love  of  dirt  excel, 

J  V  \  "  Or  dark  dexterity^  of  groping  well. 

"Who  flings  most  filth,  and  wide  pollutes  around 
"The  stream,  be  his  the  Weekly  Journals'^  bound;  280 

"  A  pig  of  lead  to  him  who  dives  the  best ; 
"A  peck  of  coals  a-piece  shall  glad  the  rest." 
In  naked  majesty  Oldmixon  stands,^ 

*  Long  Chanc' ry-lanel  The  place  where  the  proper  both  to  the  Persons  and  the  Scene  of 
offices  of  Chancery  are  kept.  The  long  detention  his  poem,  which  we  may  remember  commenced 
of  Clients  in  that  Court,  and  the  difficulty  of  get-  in  the  evening  of  the  Lord-mayor's  day:  The 
ting  out,  is  humorously  allegorized  in  these  lines,  first  book  passed  in  that  night;  the  next  morn- 
P.  ing  the  games  begin  in  the  Strand,  thence  along 

2  [Westminster  Hall;  built  by  William  II.  Fleet-street  (places  inhabited  by  Booksellers); 
A.D.  1097.]  then  they  proceed  by  Bridewell  toward  Fleet- 

3  Who  sings  so  loudly,  and  who  sings  so  ditch,  and  lastly  thro'  Ludgate  to  the  City  and 
iong^     A  just  character  of  Sir  Richard  Black-  the  Temple  of  the  Goddess.     P. 

more  knight,  who  (as  Mr.  Dryden  expresseth  it)  ^  —  dash   thro'   thick  and  thin,  —  love  of 

Writ  to  the  rtimbling  of  the  coach's  wheels ^  dirt  —  dark  dexterity']     The  three  chief  qual- 

and  whose  indefatigable  Muse  produced  no  less  ifications  of  Party-writers:   to  stick  at  nothing, 

than  six  Epic  poems:  Prince  and  King  Arthur,  to  delight  in  flinging  dirt,  and  to  slander  in  the 

twenty  books;    Eliza,  ten;    Alfred,  twelve;  the  dark  by  guess.     P. 

Redeemer,  six;  besides  Job,  in  folio;  the  whole  ^  The  Weekly  Journals']     Papers  of  news 

book  of  Psalms;    the   Creation,   seven  books;  and  scandal  intermixed,  on  different  sides  and 

Nature  of  Man,  three  books;    and  many  more,  parties,  and  frequently  shifting  from  one  side  to 

'T  is  in  this  sense  he  is  styled  afterwards   the  the  other,  called  the  London  Journal,  British 

everlasting  Black^nore.     P.     [Part  <?;«.]  Journal,  Daily  Journal,  &c.  the  concealed  writ- 

*  [The  scene  is  on  the  site  of  the  modern  ers  of  which  for  some  time  were  Oldmixon, 
Bridge  Street.]  Roome,  Arnall,  Concanen,  and  others;   persons 

^  {As    morning  pray'r    and  flagellation  never  seen  by  our  Author.     P. 

end)]     It  is  between  eleven  and  twelve  in  the  «  In  naked  majesty  Oldmixon  stands^  Mr. 

morning,  after  church  service,  that  the  criminals  John  Oldmixon,  next  to  Mr.  Dennis,  the  most 

are  whipt  in  Bridewell.  —  This  is  to  mark  punct-  ancient  Critic  of  our  nation;  and  unjust  censurer 

ually  the  time  of  the  day:  Homer  does  it  by  the  of  Mr.  Addison.     In  his  Essay  on  Criticism,  and 

circumstance  of  the  Judges  rising  from  court,  or  the  Arts  of  Logic  and  Rhetoric,  he  frequently 

of  the  Labourer's  dinner;  our  author  by  one  very  reflects  on  our  Author,     But  the  top  of  his  char- 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


395 


And  Milo-like  surveys  his  arms  and  hands ; 

Then,  sighing,  thus,  "  And  am  I  now  three-score?  285 

*' Ah  why,  ye  Gods,  should  two  and  two  make  four?" 

He  said,  and  climb'd  a  stranded  Hghter's  height, 

Shot  to  the  black  abyss,  and  plung'd  downright. 

The  Senior's  judgment  all  the  crowd  admire, 

Who  but  to  sink  the  deeper,  rose  the  higher.  290 

Next  Smedley  divM ;  ^  slow  circles  dimpled  o^er 
The  quaking  mud,  that  clos'd,  and  op'd  no  more, 
1  All  look,  all  sigh,  and  call  on  Smedley  lost ; 
\  "Smedley  "  in  vain  resounds  thro'  all  the  coast. 

Then  *  essay'd  ;  -  scarce  vanished  out  of  sight,  295 

He  buoys  up  instant,  and  returns  to  light : 
He  bears  no  token  of  the  sabler  streams. 
And  mounts  far  off  among  the  Swans  of  Thames. 

True  to  the  bottom  see  Concanen  ^  creep, 
A  cold,  long-winded  native  of  the  deep  ;  300 

If  perseverance  gain  the  Diver's  prize. 
Not  everlasting  Blackmore  this  denies ; 
No  noise,  no  stir,  no  motion  canst  thou  make, 
Th'  unconscious  stream  sleeps  o'er  thee  like  a  lake. 

Next  plung'd  a  feeble,  but  a  desp'rate  pack,  305 

With  each  a  sickly  brother  at  his  back : 


acter  was  a  Perverter  of  History,  in  that  scan- 
dalous one  of  the  Stuarts,  in  folio,  and  his  Criti- 
cal History  of  England,  two  volumes,  octavo. 
Being  employed  by  Bishop  Kennet,  in  publish- 
ing the  Historians  in  his  Collection,  he  falsified 
Daniel's  Chronicle  in  numberless  places.  He 
was  all  his  life  a  virulent  Party-writer  for  hire, 
and  received  his  reward  in  a  small  place,  which 
he  enjoyed  to  his  death.  He  is  here  likened  to 
Milo,  in  allusion  to  Ovid  {Metam.  Bk.  xv.  v. 
^29].     P.     [Part  <?;«.] 

1  Next  Smedley  div^d;']  The  person  here 
•mentioned,  an  Irishman,  was  author  and  pub- 
lisher of  many  scurrilous  pieces,  a  weekly  White- 
hall Journal,  in  the  year  1722,  in  the  name  of 
Sir  James  Baker;  and  particularly  whole  vol- 
umes of  Billingsgate  against  Dr.  Swift  and  Mr. 
Pope,  called  Gulliveriana  and  Alexandriana, 
printed  in  octavo,  1728.     P. 

Jonathan  Smedley,  a  staunch  Whig,  and  Dean 
of  Clogher.  Carruthers  [who  quotes  his  lines 
'  The  Devil's  last  game  *  against  Swift]. 

2  Then  *  essay'd]  A  gentleman  of  genius 
and  spirit,  who  was  secretly  dipt  in  some  papers 
of  this  kind,  on  whom  our  Poet  bestows  a  pane- 
gyric instead  of  a  satire,  as  deserving  to  be  better 
employed  than  in  party  quarrels,  and  personal 
invectives.  P.  Supposed  to  be  Aaron  Hill ; 
but  Pope  denied  it.     Warton,     [Hill,  however, 


called  Pope  to  account  by  a  poetical  rejoinder; 
though,  as  Bowles  remarks,  the  coi.ipliment  in 
the  above  lines  infinitely  exceeds  the  abuse.  Cf. 
Intr.  Memoir^  p.  xxxvi.  Hill  wrote  no  less 
than  seventeen  dramatic  pieces,  and  was,  be- 
sides, according  to  Dibdin,  '  the  projector  of 
nut  oil,  of  masts  of  ships  from  Scotch  firs,  of 
cultivating  Georgia,  and  of  potash !  '] 

3  Concanen]  Matthew  Concanen,  an  Irish- 
man, bred  to  the  law.  He  was  author  of  several 
dull  and  dead  scurrilities  in  the  British  and 
London  Journals,  and  in  a  paper  called  the 
Speculatist.  In  a  pamphlet,  called  a  Supple- 
ment to  the  Profund,  he  dealt  very  unfairly 
with  our  Poet,  not  only  frequently  imputing  to 
him  Mr.  Broome's  verses  (for  which  he  might 
indeed  seem  in  some  degree  accountable,  having 
corrected  what  that  gentleman  did)  but  those 
of  the  duke  of  Buckingham  and  others:  To  this 
rare  piece  somebody  humorously  caused  him  to 
take  for  his  motto,  De profundis  clamavi.  He 
was  since  a  hired  scribbler  in  the  Daily  Courant, 
where  he  poured  forth  much  Billingsgate  against 
the  lord  Bolingbroke,  and  others;  after  which 
this  man  was  surprisingly  promoted  to  admin- 
ister Justice  and  Law  in  Jamaica.  P.  [Part 
om.]  This  is  the  scribbler  to  whom  Warburton 
wrote  his  famous  Letter,  published  by  Dr. 
Akenside.     War  ton. 


396  THE  DUNCIAD, 

Sons  of  a  Day!^  just  buoyant  on  the  flood, 

Then  numbered  with  the  puppies  in  the  mud. 

Ask  ye  their  names  ?  I  could  as  soon  disclose 

The  names  of  these  blind  puppies  as  of  those.  310 

Fast  by,  like  Niobe  ^  (her  children  gone) 
r  K  •  Sits  Mother  Osborne,^  stupefy'd  to  stone! 
"^  And  Monumental  brass  this  record  bears, 

"  These  are,  —  ah  no!  these  were,  the  Gazetteers!" 
i      Not  so  bold  Arnall ;  ^  with  a  weight  of  skull,  315 

Furious  he  dives,  precipitately  dull. 

Whirlpools  and  storrns  his  circling  arm  invest, 

With  all  the  might  of  gravitation  blest. 

No  crab  more  active  in  the  dirty  dance, 

Downward  to  climb,  and  backward  to  advance.  320 

He  brings  up  half  the  bottom  on  his  head, 

And  loudly  claims  the  Journals  and  the  Lead. 
The  plunging  Prelate,^  and  his  ponderous  Grace, 

With  holy  envy  gave  one  Layman  place. 

When  lo!  a  burst  of  thunder  shook  the  flood ;  325 

Slow  rose  a  form,  in  majesty  of  Mud  ; 

Shaking  the  horrors  of  his  sable  brows, 

And  each  ferocious  feature  grim  with  ooze. 

Greater  he  looks,  and  more  than  mortal  stares ; 

Then  thus  the  wonders  of  the  deep  declares.  330 

First  he  relates,  how  sinking  to  the  chin, 

Smit  with  his  mien  the  Mud-nymphs  suck'd  him  in : 

How  young  Lutetia,^  softer  than  the  down, 

Nigrina  black,  and  Merdamante  brown, 

1  With  each  a  sickly  brother  at  his  back:  indeed  without  cause,  it  appearing  by  the  afore- 
Sons  of  a  Day!  &=c.'\  These  were  daily  papers,  said  Report,  that  he  received  "  for  Free  Brit- 
a  number  of  which,  to  lessen  the  expense,  were  ons,  and  other  writings,  in  the  space  oi  four 
printed  one  on  the  back  of  another.     P.  years,  no  less  than  ten  thousand  nine  hiin- 

2  Like  Niobe"]  See  the  story  in  Ovid,  Met.  dred  and  ninety  seven  pounds,  six  shillings, 
viT.  where  the  miserable  petrefaction  of  this  old  and  eight  pence,  out  of  the  Treasury."  But 
Lady  is  pathetically  described.     P.  frequently,  thro'  his  fury  or  folly,  he  exceeded 

3  Osborne]  A  name  assumed  by  the  eldest  all  the  bounds  of  his  commission,  and  obliged 
and  gravest  of  these  writers,  who  at  last,  being  his  honourable  Patron  to  disavow  his  scurrili- 
ashamed  of  his  Pupils,  gave  his  paper  over,  and  ties.     P.     [Part  om.] 

in  his  age  remained  silent.     P.  ^  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  who  was  Bishop  Sher- 

*  Arnall]    William  Arnall,  bred  an  Attor-  lock's  contemporary  at  Eton  College,  used  to 

ney,  was  a  perfect  Genius  in  this  sort  of  work,  relate,  that  when  some  of  the  scholars,  going  to 

He  began   under    twenty   with   furious   Party-  bathe  in  the  Thames,   stood  shivering  on  the 

papers;   then  succeeded  Concanen  in  the  British  bank,  S.  plunged  in  immediately  over  head  and 

Journal.     At  the  first  publication  of  the  Dun-  ears.     V/arton.     [Hence   this  was  understood 

clad,  he  prevailed  on  the  Author  not  to  give  him  to  refer  to  S. ;  but  Pope  indignantly  repudiated 

his  due  place  in  it,  by  a  letter  professing  his  de-  the  insinuation.     The  next  allusion  could  only 

testation  of  such  practices  as  his  predecessor's,  refer  to  an  Archbishop;    possibly  *  leaden  Gil- 

But  since,  by  the  most  unexampled  insolence,  bert '  of  iv.  608.     These  two  lines  are  wanting 

and  personal  abuse  of  several  great  men,  the  in  the  earlier  editions.] 

Poet's  particular  friends,  he  most    amply  de-  ^  [A  play  on  the  fancied  etymology  of  the 

served  a  nitch  in  the  Temple  of  Infamy:   He  Latin  name  of  Paris  (Lutetia  Parisiorum.)] 
writ  for  hire,  and  valued  himself  upon  it;   not 


THE  DUNCIAD,  397 

Vied  for  his  love  in  jetty  bow'rs  below,  335 

As  Hylas  fair^  was  ravished  long  ago. 

Then  sung,  how  shown  him  by  the  Nut-brown  maids 

A  branch  of  Styx  ^  here  rises  from  the  Shades, 

That  tinctur'd  as  it  runs  with  Lethe's  streams. 

And  wafting  Vapours  from  the  Land  of  dreams,  340 

(As  under  seas  Alpheus'  secret  sluice 

Bears  Pisa's  oif 'rings  to  his  Arethuse) 

Pours  into  Thames :  and  hence  the  mingled  wave 

Intoxicates  the  pert,  and  lulls  the  grave  : 

Here  brisker  vapours  o'er  the  Temple  creep,  345 

There,  all  from  Paul's  to  Aldgate  drink  and  sleep. 

Thence  to  the  banks  where  rev'rend  Bards  repose. 
They  led  him  soft ;  each  rev'rend  Bard  arose ; 
And  Milbourn  ^  chief,  deputed  by  the  rest. 
Gave  him  the  cassock,  surcingle,  and  vest.  350 

j    **  Receive  "  (he  said)  ^'  these  robes  which  once  were  mine, 
[    "Dulness  is  sacred  in  a  sound  divine." 

He  ceas'd,  and  spread  the  robe ;  the  crowd  confess 
The  rev'rend  Flamen  in  his  lengthen'd  dress. 
\  Around  him  wide  a  sable  Army  stand,  355 

lA  low-born,  cell-bred,  selfish,  servile  band, 
i  Prompt  or  to  guard  or  stab,  to  saint  or  damn, 
^Heav'n's  Swiss,  who  fight  for  any  God  or  Man.* 

Thro'  Lud's  fam'd  gates,^  along  the  well-known  Fleet, 
Rolls  the  black  troop,  and  overshades  the  street ;  360 

'Till  show'rs  of  Sermons,  Characters,  Essays, 
In  circling  fleeces  whiten  all  the  ways : 
So  clouds,  replenish'd  from  some  bog  below. 
Mount  in  dark  volumes,  and  descend  in  snow. 
Here  stopt  the  Goddess  ;  and  in  pomp  proclaims  365 

A  gentler  exercise  to  close  the  games. 
\      "  Ye  Critics !  in  whose  heads,  as  equal  scales, 

1  As  Hylas  fair\  Who  was  ravished  by  the  justice  in  printing  at  the  same  time  his  own 
water-nymphs  and  drawn  into  the  river.  The  translations  of  him,  which  were  intolerable, 
story  is  told  at  large  by  Valerius  Flaccus,  lib.  His  manner  of  writing  has  a  great  resemblance 
\\\.  Argon.     See  Virgil,  ^<r/.  VI.     P.  with   that  of  the  Gentlemen  of   the   Dunciad 

2  A  branch  of  Styx,  <57^f .]  Cf.  Homer,  //.  against  our  Author,  P.  [Part  om.'\  [Cf. 
II.  [vv.  751-755].     Of  the  land  of  Dreams  in  the  Essay  on  Criticism,  v.  463.] 

same  region,  he  makes  mention,  Odyss.  xxiv.  *  The  expression  is  taken  from  Dryden's 
See  also  Lucian's  True  History.  ^Lethe  and  Hind  and  Panther:  '  Those  Swisses  fight  for 
the  Land  of  Dreams  allegorically  represent  any  side  for  pay.'  Warton.  [The  well-known 
the  Stupefaction  and  visionary  Madness  of  proverb  *  Point  d'argent,  point  de  Suisse '  con- 
Poets,  equally  dull  and  extravagant.  Of  Al-  tains  a  similar  sarcasm.  The  French  Kings  had 
pheus's  waters  gliding  secretly  under  the  sea  a  Swiss  guard  from  the  time  of  Louis  XI.  to  that 
of  Pisa,  to  mix  with  those  of  Arethuse  in  Sicily,  of  Louis  XVL] 

see  Moschus,  Idyl.  viii.  Virg.  Eel.  x.  vv.  3,  4.  ^  [Ludgate,  according  to  popular  tradition, 

And  again,  yEn.  in.  vv.  693-5.     P.  built  by  King  Lud,  (see  Faerie  Queene,  Bk.  11. 

^  And  Milbourn']     Luke  Milbourn,  a  Cler-  Canto  x.  st.  46),  probably  is  the  same  as  Flood 

gyman,  the  fairest   of  Critics;    who,  when  he  (or  Fleet)  gate.     The  gate,  after  being  rebuilt 

wrote  against   Mr.   Dryden's  Virgil,  did  him  several  times,  was  finally  removed  in  1760.J 


^98  THE  DUNCIAD, 

I  "I  weigh  what  author^s  heaviness  prevails; 
^  ^jo^*^  ,^  "Which  most  conduce  to  soothe  the  soul  in  slumbers, 

>^^  ^  ^  "  My  H — ley\s  ^  periods,  or  my  Blackmore's  numbers  ;  370 

f         *^  "  Attend  the  trial  we  propose  to  make  : 

tjf'  "If  there  be  man,  who  o'er  such  works  can  wake, 

"  Sleep's  all-subduing  charms  who  dares  defy, 

"  And  boasts  Ulysses'  ear  with  Argus'  eye ;  ^ 

"  To  him  we  grant  our  amplest  pow'rs  to  sit  375 

*•'  Judge  of  all  present,  past,  and  future  wit ; 

"  To  cavil,  censure,  dictate,  right  or  wrong ; 

"Full  and  eternal  privilege  of  tongue." 

Three  College  Sophs,^  and  three  pert  Templars  came, 

The  same  their  talents,  and  their  tastes  the  same ;  380 

Each  prompt  to  query,  answer,  and  debate, 

And  smit  with  love  of  Poesy  and  Prate, 

The  pond'rous  books  two  gentle  readers  bring ; 

The  heroes  sit,  the  vulgar  form  a  ring. 

The  clam'rous  crowd  is  hush'd  with  mugs  of  Mum,^  385 

'Till  all,  tun'd  equal,  send  a  gen'ral  hum. 

/Then  mount  the  Clerks,  and  in  one  lazy  tone 

iThro'  the  long,  heavy,  painful  page  drawl  on ; 

Soft  creeping,  words  on  words,  the  sense  compose ; 
^  \  At  ev'ry  line  they  stretch,  they  yawn,  they  doze.  390 

r\^y  As  to  soft  gales  top-heavy  pines  bow  low 

C'j?^^  Their  heads,  and  lift  them  as  they  cease  to  blow: 

y^  ^  Thus  oft  they  rear,  and  of  the  head  decline, 

As  breathe,  or  pause,  by  fits,  the  airs  divine ; 

And  now  to  this  side,  now  to  that  they  nod,  395 

As  verse,  or  prose,  infuse  the  drowsy  God. 

Thrice  Budgel  aim'd  to  speak,^  but  thrice  supprest 

By  potent  Arthur,^  knock'd  his  chin  and  breast. 

Toiand  and  Tindal,  prompt  at  priests  to  jeer,"^ 

1  [Hfniey's  in  the  early  editions;  probably  much  more  eminent,  and  personally  well  known 
the  blank  was  substituted  to  leave  an  opportu-  to  the  greatest  Statesmen  of  all  parties,  as  well 
nity  for  supplying  it  with  the  name  of //ic?<a;^/^_y •  ]  as  to  all  the  Courts  of  Law  in  this  nation.    P. 

2  See  Horn.  Odyss.  xii.     Ovid,  Met.  i.     P.  Budgell  was  a  relation  of  Addison  whom  he  ac- 

3  [A  Sophister  is  properly  a  disputant  at  an  companied  as  clerk  to  Ireland.  He  afterwards 
exercise  of  dialectics;  the  term  from  its  use  at  rose  to  be  Under  Secretary  of  State.  After  Ad- 
the  old  examinations  for  the  Degree  at  Cam-  dison's  death  he  was  involved  in  losses  by  the 
bridge  has  come  to  mean  those  who  have  been  South  Sea  Bubble;  a  stain  fell  on  his  character 
one  year  or  two  years  in  residence  at  the  Uni-  in  consequence  of  Tindal's  bequest  in  his  favour 
versity  (Junior  and  Senior  Sophs.)]  being  set  aside,  and  he  committed  suicide  in 

*  \^Mu7n  was  a  strong  ale,  said  to  derive  its  1737.     Carruthers.     [Cf.  Epistle  to  Arbuth- 

name  from  its  inventor,  Christian  Mumme  of  not,  vv.  378,  9;  and  notes. '\ 

Brunswick.]  6  [Blackmore.] 

5  Thrice  Budgel  aim' d  to  speak ^     Famous  '  Ver.  399;  in  the  first  Edition  it  was: 

for  his  speeches  on  many  occasions  about  the  '  Collins  and  Tindal,  prompt  at  priests  to  jeer.' 

South  Sea  scheme,  &c.     **  He  is  a  very  ingen-  Warburton. 

ious  gentleman,  and  hath  written  some  excellent  Toiand  and  Tindal,'\     Two  persons,  not  so 

^        Epilogues   to   Plays,  and  one  small  piece   on  happy  as  to  be  obscure,  who  writ  against  the 

Love,  which  is  very  pretty."    Jacob,  Lives  of  Religion  of  their  Country.     Toiand^  the  author 

Poets.     But  this  gentleman  since  made  himself  of  the  Atheist's  Liturgy,  called  Pantheisticon, 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


399 


Yet  silent  bow'd  to  Chrisfs  No  kingdom  here?-  400 

Who  sate  the  nearest,  by  the  words  overcome, 

Slept  first ;  the  distant  nodded  to  the  hum. 

Then  down  are  rolPd  the  books ;  stretchM  o'er  'em  lies 

Each  gentle  clerk,  and  mutt'ring  seals  his  eyes, 

As  what  a  Dutchman  plumps  into  the  lakes,  405 

One  circle  first,  and  then  a  second  makes ; 

What  Dulness  dropt  among  her  sons  imprest 

Like  motion,  from  one  circle  to  the  rest ; 

So  from  the  mid-most  the  mutation  spreads 

Round  and  more  round,  o'er  all  the  sea  of  heads,  410 

At  last  Centlivre  ^  felt  her  voice  to  fail ; 

Motteux  3  himself  unfinish'd  left  his  tale ; 

Boyer  the  State,  and  Law  the  Stage  gave  o'er;* 

Morgan  ^  and  Mandevil  ^  could  prate  no  more ; 

Norton,*^  from  Daniel  and  Ostroea  sprung,  415 

Bless'd  with  his  father's  front,  and  mother's  tongue, 


was  a  spy,  in  pay  to  lord  Oxford.  Tindal  was 
author  of  the  Rights  of  the  Christian  Church, 
and  Christianity  as  old  as  the  Creation.  P. 
[Part  oni.'\  [John  Toland's  most  famous  work 
Christianity  not  mysterious  was  published  in 
1696;  Matthew  Tindal's  Christianity  as  old  as 
the  Creation,  rather  later.  Anthony  Collins, 
who  probably  lost  his  place  in  the  text  for  the 
sake  of  the  alliteration,  brought  out  his  Dis- 
course of  free  Thinking  m  17 13.] 

1  Chrisfs  No  kingdom,  df^c.^  This  is  said 
by  Curl,  Key  to  Dune,  to  allude  to  a  sermon  of 
a  reverend  Bishop.  P.  It  alludes  to  Bishop 
Hoadley's  sermons  preached  before  George  I., 
in  1717,  on  the  Nature  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Christ,  which  occasioned  a  long,  vehement,  and 
learned  debate,  known  as  the  Bangorian  Contro- 
versy, of  which  see  Hoadley  was  at  that  time 
bishop.     Wakefield. 

2  Centlivrel  Mrs.  Susanna  Centlivre,  wife 
to  Mr.  Centlivre,  Yeoman  of  the  Mouth  to  his 
Majesty.  She  writ  many  Plays,  and  a  Song 
(says  Mr.  Jacob)  before  she  was  seven  years 
old.  She  also  writ  a  Ballad  against  Mr.  Pope's 
Homer  before  he  began  it.  P.  [Some  of  her 
plays  still  keep  the  stage.] 

3  Peter  Anthony  Motteux,  the  excellent  trans- 
lator  of  Don  Quixote,  and  author  of  a  number 
of  forgotten  dramatic  pieces.  Dry  den  addressed 
a  complimentary  Epistle  to  him.  He  died  in 
1718.     Carruthers. 

*  Boyer  the  State,  and  Law  the  Stage  gave 
o'er;]  A.  Boyer,  a  voluminous  compiler  of  An- 
nals, Political  Collections,  &c. — William  Law, 
A.M.  wrote  with  great  zeal  against  the  Stage; 
Mr.  Dennis  answered  with  as  great:  Their 
books  were  printed  in   1726.    The   same   Mr. 


Law  is  author  of  a  book,  intitled,  An  Appeal  to 
all  that  doubt  of  or  disbelieve  the  truth  of  the 
gospel;  in  which  he  has  detailed  a  system  of  the 
rankest  Spinozism,  for  the  most  exalted  Theol- 
ogy; and  amongst  other  things  as  rare,  has  in- 
formed us  of  this,  that  Sir  Isaac  Newton  stole 
the  principles  of  his  philosophy  from  one  Jacob 
Boehmeni  a  German  cobbler.     P. 

5  A  man  of  some  learning,  and  uncommon 
acuteness,  with  a  strong  disposition  to  Satire, 
which  very  often  degenerated  into  scurrility. 
His  most  celebrated  work  is  the  Moral  Philos- 
opher, first  published  in  the  year  1737.    Bowles. 

6  [Bernard  de  Mandeville  was  born  in  Hol- 
land, in  1670,  and  after  residing  in  England  dur- 
ing the  latter  half  of  his  life,  died  in  1733.  The 
Fable  of  the  Bees,  to  which  he  owed  his  fame, 
first  appeared  in  1708  in  the  form  of  a  short 
poem,  and  was  afterwards  republished  with  ex- 
planatory notes  and  essays,  which  drew  upon 
the  author  the  threat  of  a  prosecution.  In  its 
enlarged  form  it  bore  the  second  title  of  Private 
Vices  Public  Benefits,  which  explains  the  moral 
or  object  of  the  Fable.  Though  Mandeville 
only  meant  to  shew  that  under  the  system  of 
Providence  good  is  wrought  out  of  evil,  he  would 
have  done  well  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  both  the 
meaning  and  the  limitations  of  his  doctrine.] 

■^  Norton^  Norton  De  Foe,  offspring  of  the 
famous  Daniel.  Fortes  creantur  fortibus. 
One  of  the  authors  of  the  Flying  Post,  in  which 
well-bred  work  Mr.  P.  has  sometime  the  honour 
to  be  abused  with  his  betters ;  and  of^many  hired 
scurrilities  and  daily  papers,  to  which  he  never 
set  his  name.  P.  [Does  Ostroea  here  signify 
an  oyster-wife?] 


400  THE  DUNCIAD, 

Hung  silent  down  his  never-blushing  head ; 

And  all  was  hush'd,  as  Folly's  self  lay  dead. 

1         Thus  the  soft  gifts  of  Sleep  conclude  the  day, 

And  stretched  on  bulks,  as  usual,  Poets  lay.  420 

Why  should  I  sing,  what  bards  the  nightly  Muse 

Did  slumbVing  visit,  and  convey  to  stews  ; 

Who  prouder  march'd,  with  magistrates  in  state, 

To  some  farh'd  round-house,  ever  open  gate! 

How  Henley  lay  inspired  beside  a  sink,  425 

And  to  mere  mortals  seem'd  a  Priest  in  drink : 

While  others,  timely,  to  the  neighboring  Fleet  ^ 

(Haunt  of  the  Muses)  made  their  safe  retreat. 


THE  DUNCIAD. 

BOOK   THE   THIRD. 

ARGUMENT. 

After  the  other  persons  are  disposed  in  their  proper  places  of  rest,  the  Goddess  trans- 
ports the  King  to  her  Temple,  and  there  lays  hitn  to  slumber  with  his  head  on  her  lap  ; 
a  position  of  marvellous  virtue,  which  causes  all  the  visions  of  wild  enthusiasts,  project- 
ors^ politicians,  inamoratos,  castle-builders,  chemists,  and  poets.  He  is  immediately  car- 
ried on  the  wings  of  Fancy,  and  led  by  a  mad  Poetical  Sibyl  to  the  Elysian  shade ;  where, 
on  the  banks  <?/ Lethe,  the  souls  of  the  dull  are  dipped  by  Bavius,  before  their  entrance 
into  this  world.  There  he  is  met  by  the  ghost  of  Settle,  and  by  him  made  acquainted 
with  the  wonders  of  the  place,  and  with  those  which  he  himself  is  destined  to  perform. 
He  takes  him  to  a  Mount  of  Vision,  from  whence  he  shews  him  the  past  triumphs  of  the 
Empire  of  Dulness,  then  the  present,  and  lastly  the  future  :  how  small  a  part  of  the 
world  was  ever  conquered  by  Science,  how  soon  those  conquests  were  stopped,  and  those 
very  nations  again  reduced  to  her  dominion.  Then  distinguishing  the  Island  of  Great- 
Britain,  shews  by  what  aids,  by  what  persons,  and  by  what  degrees  it  shall  be  brought  to 
her  Empire.  Some  of  the  persons  he  causes  to  pass  in  review  before  his  eyes,  describing 
each  by  his  proper  figure,  character,  and  qualifications.  On  a  sudden  the  Scene  shifts, 
and  a  vast  number  of  miracles  and  prodigies  appear,  utterly  surprising  and  unknown  to 
the  King  himself,  till  they  are  explained  to  be  the  wonders  of  his  own  reign  now  com- 
mencing. On  this  subject  Settle  breaks  into  a  congratulation,  yet  not  unmixed  with  con- 
cern, that  his  own  times  were  but  types  of  these.  He  prophesies  how  first  the  nation  shall 
be  over-run  with  Farces,  Operas,  and  Shows ;  how  the  throne  of  Dulness  shall  be 
advanced  over  the  Theatres,  and  set  up  even  at  Court ;  then  how  her  Sons  shall  pre- 
side in  the  seats  ^/Arts  and  Sciences:  giving  a  glimpse  or  Pisgah-sight  of  the  future 
Fulness  of  her  Glory,  the  accomplishment  whereof  is  the  subject  of  the  fourth  and  last 
book, 

BOOK   HI. 

BUT  in  her  Temple's  last  recess  enclosed, 
On  Dulness'  lap  th'  Anointed  head  repos'd. 
Him  close  she  curtains  round  with  Vapours  blue, 
And  soft  besprinkles  with  Cimmerian  dew. 
Then  raptures  high  the  seat  of  Sense  o'erflow,  5 

1  Fleefl    A  prison  for  insolvent  Debtors  on  the  bank  of  the  Ditch.    P. 


THE  DUNCIAD,  401 

Which  only  heads  refin'd  from  Reason  know. 

Hence,  from  the  straw  where  Bedlam's  Prophet  nods, 

He  hears  loud  Oracles,  and  talks  with  Gods : 

Hence  the  Fool's  Paradise,  the  Statesman's  Scheme, 

The  air-built  Castle,  and  the  golden  Dream,  10 

The  Maid's  romantic  wish,  the  Chemist's  flame, 

And  Poet's  vision  of  eternal  Fame. 

And  now,  on  Fancy's  easy  wing  convey'd, 

The  King  descending  views  th'  Elysian  Shade. 

A  slip-shod  Sibyl  led  his  steps  along,  15 

In  lofty  madness  meditating  song ; 

Her  tresses  staring  from  Poetic  dreams, 

And  never  wash'd,  but  in  Castalia's  streams. 

Taylor,^  their  better  Charon,  lends  an  oar, 

(Once  swan  of  Thames,  tho'  now  he  sings  no  more.)  20 

Benlowes,^  propitious  still  to  blockheads,  bows ; 

And  Shadwell  nods  the  Poppy  ^  on  his  brows. 

Here,  in  a  dusky  vale  where  Lethe  rolls, 

Old  Bavius  sits,^  to  dip  poetic  souls. 

And  blunt  the  sense,  and  fit  it  for  a  skull  25 

Of  solid  proof,  impenetrably  dull : 
^  Instant,  when  dipt,  away  they  wing  their  flight, 

Where  Brown  and  Mears^  unbar  the  gates  of  Light, 
y^  Demand  new  bodies,  and  in  Calf's  array 

Rush  to  the  world,  impatient  for  the  day.  30 

Millions  and  millions  on  these  banks  he  views, 

Thick  as  the  stars  of  night,  or  morning  dews, 

1  Taylor\  John  Taylor  the  Water-poet,  an  of  too  large  a  dose,  in  the  year  1692.  P.  [The 
honest  man,  who  owns  he  learned  not  so  much    hero  oi  MacFlecknoe.] 

as  the  Accidence:  A  rare  example  of  modesty  *  Old  Bavius  sUs,'\     Bavius  was  an  ancient 

in  a  Poet !  Poet,  celebrated  by  Virgil  for  the  like  cause  as 

I  must  confess  I  do  want  eloguertce.  Bays  by  our  Author,  though  not  in  so  christian- 

And  never  scarce  did  learn  my  Accidence;  like  a  manner:  For  heathenishly  it  is  declared 

For  having  got  from  possum  to  posset,  by  Virgil  of  Bavius,  that  he  ought  to  be  hated 

I  there  was  gravell'dy  could  no  farther  get.  and  detested  for  his  evil  works;  Qui  B  avium. 

He  wrote  fourscore  books  in  the  reign  of  James  non  odit;  Whereas  we  have  often  had  occasion 

I.  and  Charles  I.  and  afterwards  (like  Edward  to  observe  our  Poet's  great  Good  Nature  and 

Ward)  kept  an  Ale-house  in  Long-Acre.    He  Mercifulness  thro*   the  whole  course   of  this 

died  in  1654.    P.    [Carruthers  corrects  this  date  Poem.     Scriblerus. 

to  1653;  and  refers  for  an  account  of  the  poetic  Mr.  Dennis  warmly  contends,  that  Bavius 

waterman  to  Southey's  Lives  of  Uneducated  was  no  inconsiderable  author;   nay,  that  '*  He 

Poets.     A  splendid  edition  of  Taylor's  poems  and  Maevius  had  (even  in  Augustus's  days)  a 

has   recently  been  published    by  the   Spenser  very  formidable  party  at  Rome,  who  thought 

Society.]  them  much  superior  to  Virgil  and  Horace:  For 

2  BenloweSy]  A  country  gentleman,  famous  (saith  he)  I  cannot  believe  they  would  have 
for  his  own  bad  poetry,  and  for  patronizing  bad  fixed  that  eternal  brand  upon  them,  if  they 
poets,  as  may  be  seen  from  many  Dedications  had  not  been*  coxcombs  in  more  than  ordinary 
of  Quarles  and  others  to  him.  Some  of  these  credit."  Rem.  on  Pr.  Arthur,  part  11.  c.  i.  An 
anagram'd  his  name,  Benlowes  into  Benevolus:  argument  which,  if  this  poem  should  last,  will 
to  verify  which  he  spent  his  whole  estate  upon  conduce  to  the  honour  of  the  gentlemen  of  the 
them.     P.  Dunciad.     P. 

^  And  Shadwell  nods  the  Poppy  6r»r.]  ^  Brown  and  Mears']  Booksellers,  Printers 
Shadwell  took  Opium  for  many  years,  and  died    for  any  body.    P.     [Part  om.'\ 


y^' 


,tW 


402  THE  DUNCIAD. 

As  thick  as  bees  o'er  vernal  blossoms  fly, 
As  thick  as  eggs  at  Ward  in  pillory. ^ 

WondVing  he  gaz'd  :  When  lo!  a  Sage^  appears,  35 

By  his  broad  shoulders  known,  and  length  of  ears. 
Known  by  the  band  and  suit  which  Settle  ^  wore 
(His  only  suit)  for  twice  three  years  before : 
All  as  the  vest,  appearM  the  wearer's  frame, 
Old  in  new  state  ;  another,  yet  the  same.  40 

Bland  and  familiar  as  in  life,  begun 
Thus  the  great  Father  to  the  greater  Son. 

"Oh  born  to  see  what  none  can  see  awake! 
V*      Behold  the  wonders  of  th'  oblivious  Lake. 

Thou,  yet  unborn,  hast  touched  this  sacred  shore;  45 

(  The  hand  of  Bavius  drench'd  thee  o'er  and  o'er. 
But  blind  to  former,  as  to  future  fate. 
What  mortal  knows  his  pre-existent  state  ? 
Who  knows  how  long  thy  transmigrating  soul 
Might  from  Boeotian  to  Boeotian  roll  ?  50 

How  many  Dutchmen  she  vouchsaf'd  to  thrid? 
How  many  stages  thro'  old  Monks  she  rid? 
And  all  who  since,  in  mild  benighted  days, 
Mix'd  the  Owl's  ivy  with  the  Poet's  bays  ? 
^J^^  As  man's  Maeanders  to  the  vital  spring  55 

l^^  "  Roll  all  their  tides  ;  then  back  their  circles  bring ; 

Or  whirligigs  twirl'd  round  by  skilful  swain, 
x,s^'  Suck  the  thread  in,  then  yield  it  out  again : 

All  nonsense  thus,  of  old  or  modern  date, 
Shall  in  thee  centre,  from  thee  circulate.  60 

For  this  our  Queen  unfolds  to  vision  true 
Thy  mental  eye,  for  thou  hast  much  to  view : 
Old  scenes  of  glory,  times  long  cast  behind 
Shall,  first  recall'd,  rush  forward  to  thy  mind : 
.     ,  Then  stretch  thy  sight  o'er  all  her  rising  reign,  65 

\\  ■  '  And  let  the  past  and  future  fire  thy  brain. 

"  Ascend  this  hill,  whose  cloudy  point  commands 
Her  boundless  empire  over  seas  and  lands. 
See,  round  the  Poles  ^  where  keener  spangles  shine. 
Where  spices  smoke  beneath  the  burning  Line,  70 

(Earth's  wide  extremes)  her  sable  flag  display'd, 
And  all  the  nations  cover'd  in  her  shade. 

1  Ward  in  pillory.']  John  Ward  of  Hack-  King  Charles  II.  He  answered  all  Dryden's 
ney,  Esq.  Member  of  Parliament,  being  con-  political  poems;  and,  being  carried  up  on  one 
victed  of  forgery,  was  first  expelled  the  House,  side,  succeeded  not  a  little  in  his  Tragedy  of  the 
and  then  sentenced  to  the  Pillory  on  the  17th  of  Empress  of  Morocco.  P.  [Part  om.]  [For 
February  1727.  P.  [Part  otn.]  [Cf.  Moral  an  account  of  this  extremely  sensational  play. 
Essays,  Ep.  in.  20,  note.]  against  which  strictures  were  indited  by  Dry- 

2  [Dante.]  den,  Shadwell  and  Crown,  see  Geneste,  u.  s. 

3  Settle]     Elkanah  Settle  was  once  a  Writer  Vol.  i.  p.  154.] 

in  vogue  as  well  as  Cibber,  both  for  Dramatic  *  See,  round  the  Poles  Sd'c]  Almost  the 
Poetry  and  Politics.  He  was  author  or  pub-  whole  Southern  and  Northern  Continent  wrapt 
lisher  of  many  noted  pamphlets  in  the  time  of     in  ignorance.     P. 


n" 


THE  DUNCTAD.  403 

"Far  eastward  cast  thine  eye,  from  whence  the  Sun^ 

And  orient  Science  their  bright  course  begun :  t. 

One  god-like  Monarch  ^  all  that  pride  confounds,  ^  v  ^5 

He,  whose  long  wall  the  wand'ring  Tartar  bounds ; 

Heav'ns !  what  a  pile !  whole  ages  perish  there. 

And  one  bright  blaze  turns  Learning  into  air. 
"  Thence  to  the  south  extend  thy  gladden'd  eyes ; 

There  rival  flames  with  equal  glory  rise,  80 

From  shelves  to  shelves  see  greedy  Vulcan  roll,* 

And  hck  up  all  the  Physic  of  the  Soul. 

How  little,  mark !  that  portion  of  the  ball. 

Where,  faint  at  best,  the  beams  of  Science  fall : 

Soon  as  they  dawn,  from  Hyperborean  skies  85 

Embody'd  dark,  what  clouds  of  Vandals  rise! 
I  Lo!  where  Maeotis  sleeps,  and  hardly  flows 
.  vT^ '         I  The  freezing  Tanais  thro'  a  waste  of  snows,* 
^ '  The  North  by  myriads  pours  her  mighty  sons, 

Great  nurse  of  Goths,  of  Alans,^  and  of  Huns!  90 

See  Alaric's  stern  port!  the  martial  frame 

Of  Genseric!  and  Attila's^  dread  name! 

See  the  bold  Ostrogoths  on  Latium  fall ; 

See  the  fierce  Visigoths  on  Spain  and  Gaul! 

See,  where  the  morning  gilds  the  palmy  shore  95 

(The  soil  that  arts  and  infant  letters  bore"^) 
I  His  conqu'ring  tribes  th'  Arabian  prophet  draws, 
v/.  I  And  saving  Ignorance  enthrones  by  Laws. 
I  See  CHrisfians,  Jews,  one  heavy  sabbath  keep, 
\  And  all  the  western  world  believe  and  sleep.  100 

"Lo!  Rome  herself,  proud  mistress  now  no  more 

Of  arts,  but  thundering  against  heathen  lore  ;  ^ 

Her  grey-hair'd  Synods  damning  books  unread, 

^Ver.  73;  in  the  former  Editions:  gratified;   but  the  reason  of  this  preference  I 

*  Far  eastward  cast  thine  eye,  from  whence  the  cannot  discover.     Johnson. 

Sun  6  [The  Alemanni,  who  twice  invaded  Gaul.] 

And  orient  Science  at  a  birth  begun*  6  [Kings  of  the  Goths,  Vandals  and  Huns 

Warburton.  respectively.] 
Our  Author  favours  the  opinion  that  all  Sci-         "^  (.The  soil  that  arts  and  infant  letters 

ences  came  from  the  Eastern  nations.     P.  bore)^     Phoenicia,  Syria,  &c.  where  Letters  are 

2  Chi  Ho-am-ti  Emperor  of  China,  the  same  said  to  have  been  invented.  In  these  countries 
who  built  the   great  wall  between  China  and  Mahomet  began  his  conquests.     P. 

Tartary,  destroyed  all  the  books  and  learned  ^  [Pope  has  a  long  note  attempting  to  bring 

men  of  that  empire.     P.  home  this  charge  against  Pope  Gregory  I.  (the 

3  The  Caliph,  Omar  I.,  having  conquered  Great).  His  hatred  of  classical  learning  is  un- 
iEgypt,  caused  his  General  to  burn  the  Ptole-  doubted;  his  destruction  of  ancient  buildings 
maean  library,  on  the  gates  of  which  was  this  rests  only  on  later  evidence.  See  Gibbon,  chap, 
inscription,  *YXH2IATPEION,  the  Physic  of  xlv.  Compare  on  this  and  the  whole  subject  of 
the  Soul.  P.  [a.d.  641.  Gibbon  was  strongly  the  prejudices  of  the  Church  against  profane 
inclined  to  dispute  the  fact,  but  fresh  authorities  learning  the  first  chapter  of  Hallam's  Lit.  of 
corroborating  it  have  been  adduced  by  Mil-  Europe.  The  establishment  of  the  Index  Ex- 
man.]  purgatorius  belongs   to   the   century  of  the 

*  I  have  been  told  that  this  was  the  couplet    Reformation.] 
by  which  Pope  declared  his  own  ear  to  be  most 


404 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


V^ 


And  Bacon  trembling  for  his  brazen  head.* 
Padua,  with  sighs,  beholds  her  Livy  burn,^  105 

And  ev'n  th'  Antipodes  Virgilius  mourn. 
See  the  Cirque  falls,  th'  unpillarM  Temple  nods, 
Streets  pav'd  with  Heroes,  Tiber  chok'd  with  Gods : 
'Till  Peter's  keys  some  christened  Jove  adorn,^ 
And  Pan  to  Moses  lends  his  pagan  horn  ;  1 10 

See,  graceless  Venus  to  a  Virgin  turn'd, 
^  Or  Phidias  broken,  and  Apelles  burn'd. 

'^  Behold  yon'  Isle,  by  Palmers,  Pilgrims  trod, 
Men  bearded,  bald,  cowPd,  uncowPd,  shod,  unshod, 
y*  Peel'd,  patch'd,  and  pyebald,  linsey-wolsey  brothers,  115 

Grave  Mummers!  sleeveless  some,  and  shirtless  others. 
That  once  was  Britain  —  Happy!  had  she  seen 
No  fiercer  sons,  had  Easter  never  been.* 
In  peace,  great  Goddess,  ever  be  ador'd ; 

How  keen  the  war,  if  Dulness  draw  the  sword!  120 

Thus  visit  not  thy  own!  on  this  blest  age 
Oh  spread  thy  Influence,  but  restrain  thy  Rage! 

"  And  see,  my  son !  the  hour  is  on  its  way, 
That  lifts  our  Goddess  to  imperial  sway : 

'This  fav'rite  Isle,  long  sever'd  from  her  reign,  125 

■Dove-like,  she  gathers  ^  to  her  wings  again. 
Now  look  thro'  Fate!  behold  the  scene  she  draws! 
What  aids,  what  armies  to  assert  her  cause ! 
See  all  her  progeny,  illustrious  sight! 

Behold,  and  count  them,  as  they  rise  to  light.  130 

As  Berecynthia,  while  her  offspring  vie 
In  homage  to  the  mother  of  the  sky, 
Surveys  around  her,  in  the  blest  abode, 
An  hundred  sons,  and  ev'ry  son  a  God : 

Not  with  less  glory  mighty  Dulness  crown'd  135 

Shall  take  thro'  Grubstreet  her  triumphant  round ; 
And  her  Parnassus  glancing  o'er  at  once. 
Behold  an  hundred  sons,  and  each  a  Dunce. 


a 


*  [Roger  Bacon  lived  in  the  13th  century; 
the  earliest  English  cultivator  of  mathematical 
science.  His  *  brazen  head '  was  a  popular  su- 
perstition connected  with  his  experiments  in 
magic;  and  is  alluded  to  in  Butler's  HudibrasJ] 

2  [Livy  is  said  to  have  been  burnt  among 
other  authors  by  Gregory  I.] 

^'Till  Peters  keys  some  chrisfned  Jove 
adorn,]  After  the  government  of  Rome  de- 
volved to  the  Popes,  their  zeal  was  for  some 
time  exerted  in  demolishing  the  Heathen  Tem- 
ples and  Statues,  so  that  the  Goths  scarce  de- 
stroyed more  monuments  of  Antiquity  out  of 
rage,  than  these  out  of  devotion.  At  length 
they  spared  some  of  the  temples,  by  converting 
them  to  Churches ;  and  some  of  the  Statues,  by 
modifying  them  into  images  of  Saints.    In  much 


later  times,  it  was  thought  necessary  to  change 
the  statues  of  Apollo  and  Pallas,  on  the  tomb  of 
Sannazarius,  into  David  and  Judith;  the  Lyre 
easily  became  a  Harp,  and  the  Gorgon's  head 
turned  to  that  of  Holofernes.  P.  [Abundant 
instances  of  this  will  be  found  in  any  description 
of  Rome.] 

*  Happy  !  —  had  Easter  never  been.]  Wars 
in  England  anciently,  about  the  right  time  of 
celebrating  Easter.  P.  [It  was  not  till  the 
visit  of  St.  Augustine  in  596  that  the  British 
Church  conformed  to  the  decision  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Nice  as  to  the  day  on  which  Easter  should 
be  kept] 

5  Dove-like  she  gathers]  This  is  fulfilled 
in  the  fourth  book.    P. 


THE  DUJVCTAD, 


405 


vr 


"  Mark  first  that  youth  who  takes  the  foremost  place, 

And  thrust  his  person  full  into  your  face.  140 

With  all  thy  Father's  virtues  blest,  be  born !  ^ 

And  a  new  Gibber  shall  the  stage  adorn. 
"  A  second  see,  by  meeker  manners  known, 

And  modest  as  the  maid  that  sips  alone ; 

From  the  strong  fate  of  drams  if  thou  get  free,  145 

Another  Durfey,^  Ward!  shall  sing  in  thee. 

Thee  shall  each  ale-house,  thee  each  gill-house  mourn, 

And  answVing  gin-shops  sourer  sights  return. 
"  Jacob,  the  scourge  of  Grammar,  mark  with  awe,* 

Nor  less  revere  him,  blunderbuss  of  Law.  150 

Lo  P — p — le's  brow,  tremendous  to  the  town, 

Horneck's  fierce  eye,  and  Roome's  ^  funereal  frown. 

Lo  sneering  Goode,^  half  malice  and  half  whim, 

A  friend  in  glee,  ridiculously  grim. 

Each  Cygnet  sweet,  of  Bath  and  Tunbridge  race,  I55 

Whose  tuneful  whistling  makes  the  waters  pass  ;  ^ 
',  Each  Songster,  Riddler,  evVy  nameless  name, 
'  All  crowd,  who  foremost  shall  be  damn'd  to  Fame.'' 

Some  strain  in  rhyme ;  the  Muses,  on  their  racks, 

Scream  like  the  winding  of  ten  thousand  jacks  ;  160 

Some  free  from  rhyme  or  reason,  rule  or  check. 


^  [As  to  Gibber's  father  see  Pope's  note  to 
Bk.  I.  V.  30.] 

2  [Durfey;  v.  Essay  on  Criticism^  v.  6i8.] 

8  Jacobs  the  scourge  of  Grammar^  mark 
with  awe,}  "  This  Gentleman  is  son  of  a 
considerable  Maltster  of  Romsey  in  South- 
amptonshire,  and  bred  to  the  Law  under  a 
very  eminent  Attorney  :  Who,  between  his 
more  laborious  studies,  has  diverted  himself 
with  Poetry.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of  poets 
and  their  works,  which  has  occasioned  him  to 
try  his  genius  that  way.  —  He  has  written  in 
prose  the  Lives  of  the  Poets,  Essays,  and  a 
great  many  Law-books,  The  Accomplished 
Conveyancer,  Modern  Justice,  d^c.  Giles 
Jacob  of  himself.  Lives  of  Poets,  vol.  i.  He 
very  grossly,  and  unprovok'd,  abused,  in  that 
book  the  Author's  Friend,  Mr.  Gay.    P. 

*  Horneck  and  Roome]  These  two  were  vir- 
ulent party-writers,  worthily  coupled  together, 
and  one  would  think  prophetically,  since,  after 
the  publishing  of  this  piece,  the  former  dying, 
the  latter  succeeded  him  in  Honour  and  Em.- 
ployment.  The  first  was  Philip  Horneck,  au- 
thor of  a  Billingsgate  paper  called  The  High 
German  Doctor.  Edward  Roome  was  son  of 
an  Undertaker  for  Funerals  in  Fleet-street,  and 
writ  some  of  the  papers  called  Pasquin,  where 
by  malicious  innuendos  he  endeavoured  to  rep- 


resent our  Author  guilty  of  malevolent  practices 
with  a  great  man  then  under  prosecution  of  Par- 
liament. Of  this  man  was  made  the  following 
Epigram: 

**  You  ask  why  Roome  diverts  you  with  his  jokes, 
Yet  if  he  writes,  is  dull  as  other  folks? 
You  wonder  at  it  —  This,  sir,  is  the  case, 
The  jest  is  lost  unless  he  prints  his  face." 
Popple  was  the  author  of  some  vile  Plays  and 
Pamphlets.    He  published  abuses  on  our  Author 
in  a  paper  called  the  Prompter.    P. 

s  Goode,}  An  ill-natur'd  Critic,  who  writ  a 
satire  on  our  Author,  called  The  mock  j^sopy 
and  many  anonymous  Libels  in  News-papers 
for  hire.     P. 

^  [Borrowed  from  two  lines  of  Young's  Uni- 
versal Passion,  Sat.  6.]     War  ton. 

Whose  tuneful  whistling  makes  the  waters 
Pass  .*]  There  were  several  successions  of  these 
sort  of  minor  poets,  at  Tunbridge,  Bath,  &c.  sing- 
ing the  praise  of  the  Annuals  flourishing  for  that 
season ;  whose  names  indeed  would  be  nameless, 
and  therefore  the  Poet  slurs  them  over  with 
others  in  general.     P. 

''  After  Ver.  158  in  the  former  Editions  fol- 
lowed : 

*  How  proud,  how  pale,  how  earnest  all  appear! 
How  rhymes  eternal  jingle  in  their  ear !  * 

Warburton, 


406  THE  DUNCIAD, 

Break  Priscian's  ^  head,  and  Pegasus's  neck ; 
Down,  down  they  larum,  with  impetuous  whirl, 
The  Pindars,  and  the  Mihons  of  a  Curl. 

"Silence,  ye  Wolves!  while  Ralph  ^  to  Cynthia  howls,*         165 
And  makes  night  hideous  —  Answer  him,  ye  Owls ! 

"  Sense,  speech,  and  measure,  living  tongues  and  dead, 
Let  all  give  way,  and  Morris^  may  be  read. 
I  Flow,  Welsted,  flow !  like  thine  inspirer.  Beer, 
Tho'  stale,  not  ripe  ;  tho'  thin,  yet  never  clear ;  170 

So  sweetly  mawkish,  and  so  smoothly  dull ; 
Heady,  not  strong ;  overflowing,  tho'  not  full. 

"Ah  Dennis!^  Gildon  ah!  what  ill-starr'd  rage 
;  Divides  a  friendship  long  confirmed  by  age? 
Blockheads  with  reason  wicked  wits  abhor;  175 

j  But  fool  with  fool  is  barbVous  civil  war. 
\  Embrace,  embrace,  my  sons!  be  foes  no  more! 
Nor  glad  vile  Poets  with  true  Critics'  gore. 

"  Behold  yon  Pair,^  in  strict  embraces  joined ; 
How  like  in  manners,  and  how  like  in  mind!  180 

Equal  in  wit,  and  equally  polite. 
Shall  this  a  Pasquin^  that  a  Grmnbler  write ; 
Like  are  their  merits,  like  rewards  they  share, 
That  shines  a  Consul,  this  Commissioner."^ 

"  But  who  is  he,  in  closet  close  y-pent,  185 

Of  sober  face,  with  learned  dust  besprent? 


VhXAO. 


*  [Priscian,  the  celebrated  Roman  gram-  ^  Ah  Denm's  /  ^t'c]  The  reader,  who  has 
marian,  lived  in  the  time  of  Justinian,  who  seen  thro'  the  course  of  these  notes,  what  a  con- 
appointed  him  teacher  of  grammar  at  Constan-  stant  attendance  Mr.  Dennis  paid  to  our  Authoi 
tinople.]  and  all  his  works,  may  perhaps  wonder  he  should 

2  Ralph]  James  Ralph,  a  name  inserted  after  be  mentioned  but  twice,  and  so  slightly  touched, 
the  first  editions,  not  known  to  our  Author  till  in  this  poem.  But  in  truth  he  looked  upon  him 
he  writ  a  swearing-piece  called  Sawney,  very  with  some  esteem,  for  having  (more  generously 
abusive  of  Dr.  Swift,  Mr.  Gay,  and  himself,  than  all  the  rest)  j^^  A/j  A^^w<?  to  such  writings. 
These  lines  allude  to  a  thing  of  his,  intitled.  He  was  also  a  very  old  man  at  this  time.  By  his 
Night,  a  Poem :  This  low  writer  attended  his  own  account  of  himself  in  Mr.  Jacob's  Lives,  he 
own  works  with  panegyrics  in  the  Journals,  and  must  have  been  above  threescore,  and  happily 
once  in  particular  praised  himself  highly  above  lived  many  years  after.  So  that  he  was  senior 
Mr.  Addison.  He  was  wholly  illiterate,  and  to  Mr.  Durfey,  who  hitherto  of  all  our  poets 
knew  no  language,  not  even  French.     Being  enjoyed  the  longest  bodily  life.     P. 

advised   to   read  the  rules  of  dramatic   poetry         ^  Behold  yon  Pair,  dfc]     One  of  these  was 

before  he  began  a  play,  he  smiled  and  replied,  author  of  a  weekly  paper  called  the  Grumbler, 

"  Shakespear  writ  without  rules."     He  ended  as  the  other  was  concerned  in  another  called 

at  last  in  the  common  sink  of  all  such  writers,  a  Pasquin,  in  which  Mr.  Pope  was  abused  with 

political   News-paper,  to  which  he  was  recom-  the  duke  oi  Buckingham,  and  Bishop  of  Roch- 

mended  by  his  friend  Arnal,   and   received  a  ester.     They  also  joined  in  a  piece  against  his 

small  pittance  for  pay.     P.  first  undertaking  to  translate  the  Iliad,  intit. 

3  [Shaksp.  Jul.  Cces.  Act  iv.  Sc.  3:  'I'd  \x\&d  Homerides,  hy  Sir  Iliad  Doggrel, -gnnt^d, 
rather  be  a  dog  and  bay  the  moon,  &c.'     But  1715.     P.     [Part  om.] 

Wakefield  has  pointed  out  two  lines  by  Ambrose         '^  That  shines  a  Consul,  this  Commissioner.] 

Philips  parodied  in  the  above.]  Such  places  were  given  at  this  time  to  such  sort 

^  Morris,]  Besaleel.    See  Book  ii,  [v.  126].  of  writers.    P. 
P. 


THE  DUNCIAD, 


407 


t  Right  well  mine  eyes  arede  ^  the  myster  wight, 
On  parchment  scraps  y-fed,  and  Wormius  hight.^ 
To  future  ages  may  thy  dulness  last, 
'As  thou  preserv'st  the  dulness  of  the  past!  190 

"  There,  dim  in  clouds,  the  poring  Scholiasts  mark, 
Wits,  who,  like  owls,^  see  only  in  the  dark, 
A  Lumber-house  of  books  in  ev'ry  head, 
For  ever  reading,  never  to  be  read ! 

"  But,  where  each  Science  lifts  its  modern  type,  195 

HistVy  her  Pot,  Divinity  her  Pipe, 
While  proud  Philosophy  repines  to  show, 
Dishonest  sight!  his  breeches  rent  below; 
Embrown'd  with  native  bronze,  lo !  Henley  stands,* 
Turning  his  voice,  and  balancing  his  hands.  200 

How  fluent  nonsense  trickles  from  his  tongue ! 
How  sweet  the  periods,  neither  said,  nor  sung! 
Still  break  the  benches,  Henley!  with  thy  strain, 
While  Sherlock,  Hare,  and  Gibson  ^  preach  in  vain. 
Oh  great  Restorer  of  the  good  old  Stage,  205 

Preacher  at  once,  and  Zany  of  thy  age ! 
Oh  worthy  thou  of  -Egypt's  wise  abodes, 
A  decent  priest,  where  monkeys  were  the  gods! 


"^  arede\  Ready  ox  peruse ;  though  some- 
times used  for  counsel.  P.  \Mystery  like  arede 
and  besprent^  is  a  word  used  by  Spenser.  But 
Pope  explains  it  wrongly:  it  is  equivalent  to 
manner,  craft  or  trade  (French  metier,  prob- 
ably from  magister) .  *  The  myster  wight '  is 
nonsense;  ^  stick  myster  wight*  would  be  sense.] 
Myster  ivighf]    Uncouth  mortal.     P. 

2  Wormius  hight.^  Let  not  this  name,  purely 
fictitious,  be  conceited  to  mean  the  learned  Olaus 
Wormius  ;  much  less  (as  it  was  unwarrantably 
foisted  into  the  surreptitious  editions)  our  own 
Antiquary  Mr.  Thomas  Hearne,  who  had  no 
way  aggrieved  our  Poet,  but  on  the  contrary 
published  many  curious  tracts  which  he  hath 
to  his  great  contentment  perused.  P.   [Part  <?;«.] 

highfl  *'  In  Cumberland  they  say  to  highty 
for  to  promise,  or  vow  ;  but  hight,  usually  sig- 
nifies 7vas  called ;  and  so  it  does  in  the  North 
even  to  this  day,  notwithstanding  what  is  done 
in  Cumberland."  Hearne.  P.  [Theoldhatan 
means  to  call  and  to  promise  (German  heissen, 
verheissen').\ 

3  WitSy  whoy  like  owls,  &>c.]  These  few 
lines  exactly  describe  the  right  verbal  critic: 
The  darker  his  author  is,  the  better  he  is 
pleased;  like  the  famous  Quack  Doctor,  who 
put  up  in  his  bills,  he  delighted  in  matters 
of  difficulty.  Some  body  said  well  of  these 
men,  that  their  heads  were  Libraries  out  of 
«rder.    P. 


*  lo!  Henley  stands,  6r*c.]  J.  Henley  the 
Orator;  he  preached  on  the  Sundays  upon  Theo- 
logical matters,  and  on  the  Wednesdays  upon  all 
other  sciences.  Each  auditor  paid  one  shilling. 
He  declaimed  some  years  against  the  greatest 
persons,  and  occasionally  did  our  Author  that 
honour.  After  having  stood  some  Prosecu- 
tions, he  turned  his  rhetoric  to  buffoonery  upon 
all  publick  and  private  occurrences.  This  man 
nad  an  hundred  pounds  a  year  given  him  for  the 
secret  service  of  a  weekly  paper  of  unintelligible 
nonsense,  called  the  Hyp-Doctor.  P.  [Part 
om.']  [John  Henley,  a  native  of  Leicester- 
shire, had  graduated  at  Cambridge ;  but  set  up 
a  scheme  of  Universology  on  his  own  account, 
establishing  his  *  Oratory  *  in  a  wooden  booth  in 
Newport  market  in  1726.  Three  years  later  he 
removed  his  pulpit  to  the  corner  of  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  and  though  subjected  to  a  prosecu- 
tion for  profaning  the  clerical  character,  contin- 
ued his  exhibitions  till  the  middle  of  the  century. 
See  Wright's  Caric.  Hist,  of  the  Georges,  and 
Jesse,  George  Sehvyn  and  his  Contempora- 
ries, Vol.  I.,  where  Henley  is  said  to  have  been  a 
man  of  real  learning  and  of  poetical  talent.  He 
died  in  1756.] 

fi  Sherlock,  Hare,  Gibson,"]  Bishops  of  Sal- 
isbury, Chichester,  and  London ;  whose  Sermons 
and  Pastoral  Letters  did  honour  to  their  country 
as  well  as  stations.     P. 


ft 


408  THE  DUNCIAD. 

But  fate  with  butchers  placed  thy  priestly  stall, 

Meek  modern  faith  to  murder,  hack,  and  maul ;  210 

And  bade  thee  live,  to  crown  Britannia's  praise, 

In  Toland's,  Tindal's,  and  in  Woolston's  days.^ 
"  Yet  oh,  my  sons,  a  father's  words  attend : 

(So  may  the  fates  preserve  the  ears  you  lend) 

'Tis  yours  a  Bacon  or  a  Locke  to  blame,  215 

A  Newton's  genius,  or  a  Milton's  flame : 

But  oh !  with  One,  immortal  One  dispense ; 

The  source  of  Newton's  Light,  of  Bacon's  Sense. 

Content,  each  Emanation  of  his  fires 

That  beams  on  earth,  each  Virtue  he  inspires,  220 

^  Each  Art  he  prompts,  each  Charm  he  can  create, 

N,  Whate'er  he  gives,  are  giv'n  for  you  to  hate. 

Persist,  by  all  divine  in  Man  unaw'd, 
\  '  But  ^  Learn,  ye  Dunces!  not  to  scorn  your  God.' "  * 

^  Thus  he,  for  then  a  ray  of  Reason  stole  225 

^\  Half  thro'  the  solid  darkness  of  his  soul ; 

But  soon  the  cloud  return'd  —  and  thus  the  Sires 

"  See  now,  what  Dulness  and  her  sons  admire! 

See  what  the  charms,  that  smite  the  simple  heart 

Not  touch'd  by  Nature,  and  not  reach'd  by  Art."  230 

His  never-blushing  head  he  turn'd  aside, 

(Not  half  so  pleas'd  when  Goodman  prophesy'd  ^) 

And  look'd,  and  saw  a  sable  Sorc'rer  *  rise, 

Swift  to  whose  hand  a  winged  volume  flies : 

All  sudden,  Gorgons  hiss,  and  Dragons  glare,  235 

And  ten-horn'd  fiends  and  Giants  rush  to  war. 

Hell  rises,  Heav'n  descends,  and  dance  on  Earth :  ^ 

Gods,  imps,  and  monsters,  music,  rage,  and  mirth, 

^  Of  Toland  and    Tindal,  see  Book  ii.  [v.  the  shoulder  and  cried,  "  If  he  does  not  make  a 

399].      Tho.    Woolston  was   an   impious  mad-  good  actor,  I'll  be  d d."  —  And   (says   Mr. 

man,  who  wrote  in  a  most  insolent  style  against  Cibber)  I  make  it  a  question,  whether  Alexan- 

the  Miracles  of  the  Gospel,  in  the  years  1726,  der  himself,  or  Charles  the  Twelfth  of  Sweden, 

&c.     P.  when  at  the  head  of  their  first  victorious  armies, 

2  But^   *  Learn^  ye  Dunces  !  not  to  scorn  could  feel  a  greater  transport  in  their  bosoms 

your  God.*'\     Virg.   ^n.   vi.    [v.   619].     The  than  I  did  in  mine.     P. 

hardest  lesson  a  Dunce  can  learn.  For  being  *  a  sable  Sorc'rer]  Dr.  Faustus,  the  sub- 
bred  to  scorn  what  he  does  not  understand,  ject  of  a  set  of  Farces,  which  lasted  in  vogue 
that  which  he  understands  least  he  will  be  apt  two  or  three  seasons,  in  which  both  Play-houses 
to  scorn  most.  Of  which,  to  the  disgrace  of  all  strove  to  outdo  each  other  for  some  years.  AH 
Government,  and  (in  the  Poet's  opinion)  even  the  extravagances  in  the  sixteen  lines  following 
of  that  of  Dulness  herself,  we  have  had  a  late  were  introduced  on  the  Stage,  and  frequented 
example  in  a  book  intitled.  Philosophical  by  persons  of  the  first  quality  in  England,  to 
Essays  concerning  human  Understanding,  the  twentieth  and  thirtieth  time.  P.  [Proba- 
P.  bly  revivals  of  Mountfort's  harlequinade  founded 

*  not  to  scorn  your  God.*]     See  this  subject  on  Marlowe's  tragedy.] 
pursued  in  Book  iv.     P.  ^  Hell  rises,  Heav'n  descends,  and  dance 

^  (^Not  half  so  pleas'd  when  Goodman  proph-  on   Earth:]     This   monstrous   absurdity  was 

esy'd^]     Mr.  Cibber  tells   us,  in   his   Life,  p.  actually  represented  in  'Y'^\i2\di!s  Rape  of  Pro- 

149,  that  Goodman  being  at  the  rehearsal  of  a  serpine.    P. 
play,  in  which  he  had  a  part,  clapped  him  on 


THE  DUNCIAD.  409 

A  fire,  a  jig,  a  battle,  and  a  ball, 

'Till  one  wide  conflagration  swallows  all.  240 

Thence  a  new  world  to  Nature's  laws  unknown, 
Breaks  out  refulgent,  with  a  heav'n  its  own : 
Another  Cynthia  her  new  journey  runs, 
And  other  planets  circle  other  suns. 

The  forests  dance,  the  rivers  upward  rise,  245 

Whales  sport  in  woods,  and  dolphins  in  the  skies ; 
And  last,  to  give  the  whole  creation  grace, 
Lo !  one  vast  Egg  ^  produces  human  race. 

Joy  fills  his  soul,  joy  innocent  of  thought ; 
*  What  pow'r,'  he  cries, '  what  pow'r  these  wonders  wrought? '  250 
"  Son,  what  thou  seek'st  is  in  thee!  Look,  and  find 
Each  monster  meets  his  likeness  in  thy  mind. 
Yet  would'st  thou  more?  in  yonder  cloud  behold, 
Whose  sars'net  skirts  are  edg'd  with  flamy  gold, 
A  matchless  youth!  his  nod  these  worlds  controls,  255 

Wings  the  red  lightning,  and  the  thunder  rolls. 
Angel  of  Dulness,  sent  to  scatter  round 
Her  magic  charms  o'er  all  unclassic  ground  v 
Yon  stars,  yon  suns,  he  rears  at  pleasure  higher, 
Illumes  their  light,  and  sets  their  flames  on  fire.  260 

Timmortal  Rich!^  how  calm  he  sits  at  ease 
'  'Mid  snows  of  paper,  and  fierce  hail  of  pease  ; 

And  proud  his  Mistress'  orders  to  perform, 
\  Rides  in  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm.  V^^' 
^  *^  But  lo !  to  dark  encounter  in  mid  air  ^  265 

New  wizards  rise  ;  I  see  my  Gibber  there ! 
Booth  ^  in  his  cloudy  tabernacle  shrin'd,^ 
On  grinning  dragons  thou  shalt  mount  the  wind.® 
Dire  is  the  conflict,  dismal  is  the  din. 

Here  shouts  all  Drury,  there  all  Lincoln's-inn  ;  ^  270 

Contending  Theatres  our  empire  raise. 
Alike  their  labours,  and  alike  their  praise. 

"And  are  these  wonders.  Son,  to  thee  unknown? 
Unknown  to  thee?  these  wonders  are  thy  own.^ 

*  Lo  /  one  vast  Egg\  In  another  of  these  We  hope  therefore  the  reader  will  understand  it 
Farces,  Harlequin   is   hatched  upon  the  stage    allegorically  only.     P. 

out  of  a  large  Egg.     P.  "  [The  Theatre  called  the  Duke's  was  built 

2  Immortal  Rich  /]     Mr.  John  Rich,  Mas-  in  Portugal  Street,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  at  the 

ter  of  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Covent-garden,  was  time  of  the  Restoration.     It  was  here  Rich  first 

the  first  that  excelled  this  way.     P.  brought  out  his  harlequinades;    but  soon  after 

8  [Join  their  dark  encounter  in  mid-air.     Mil-  his  removal  it  was  closed  (1737).] 

ton.  Par.  Lost,  11.  v.  718.]  ^  After  ver.  274  in  the  former  Edd.  followed: 

*  Booth  and  Cibber  were  joint  managers  of  For  works  like  these  let  deathless  Journals  tell 
the  Theatre  in  Drury-lane.     P.  **  None  but  thyself  can  be  thy  parallel." 

6  [as  Harlequin.]  Warburton. 

6  On  grinning  dragons  thou  shalt  mount  Var.  None  but  thyself  can  be  thy  parallel^ 
the  ivind.^  In  his  Letter  to  Mr.  P.  Mr.  C.  A  marvellous  line  of  T'-^^'^^a/t//  unless  the  Play 
solemnly  declares  this  not  to  be  literally  true,     called  the  Double  Falsehood  be  (as  he  would 

have  it  believed)  Shakes^ear's.     P. 


4X0 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


\ 


These  Fate  reserv'd  to  grace  thy  reign  divine,  375 

Foreseen  by  me,  but  ah !  withheld  from  mine. 

In  Lud's  old  walls  tho'  long  I  rul'd,  renown'd 

Far  as  loud  Bow's  stupendous  bells  resound ; 

Tho'  my  own  Aldermen  conferr'd  the  bays, 

To  me  committing  their  eternal  praise,  280 

Their  full-fed  Heroes,  their  pacific  May'rs 

Their  annual  trophies,^  and  their  monthly  wars ; 

Tho'  long  my  Party  ^  built  on  me  their  hopes. 

For  writing  Pamphlets,  and  for  roasting  Popes ;  ^ 

Yet  lo!  in  me  what  authors  have  to  brag  on!  285 

Reduc'd  at  last  to  hiss  in  my  own  dragon. 

Avert  it,  Heaven !  that  thou,  my  Gibber,  e'er 

Should'st  wag  a  serpent-tail  in  Smithfield  fair! 

Like  the  vile  straw  that's  blown  about  the  streets, 

The  needy  Poet  sticks  to  all  he  meets,  290 

Coach'd,  carted,  trod  upon,  now  loose,  now  fast, 

And  carry'd  off  in  some  Dog's  tail  at  last. 

Happier  thy  fortunes !  like  a  rolling  stone, 

Thy  giddy  dulness  still  shall  lumber  on. 

Safe  in  its  heaviness,  shall  never  stray,  295 

But  lick  up  ev'ry  blockhead  in  the  way. 

Thee  shall  the  Patriot,  thee  the  Courtier  taste,* 

And  ev'ry  year  be  duller  than  the  last. 

Till  rais'd  from  booths,  to  Theatre,  to  Court, 

Her  seat  imperial  Dulness  shall  transport.  300 

Already  Opera  prepares  the  way, 

The  sure  fore-runner  of  her  gentle  sway  : 

Let  her  thy  heart,  next  Drabs  and  Dice,  engage. 

The  third  mad  passion  of  thy  doting  age. 

Teach  thou  the  warbling  Polypheme  ^  to  roar,  305 

And  scream  thyself  as  none  e'er  scream'd  before ! 

To  aid  our  cause,  if  Heav'n  thou  can'st  not  bend, 

Hell  thou  shalt  move ;  for  Faustus  is  our  friend  : 


1  Annual  trophies,  on  the  Lord-mayor's  day; 
and  monthly  wars  in  the  Artillery-ground.     P. 

2  Tho'  long  my  Party"]  Settle,  like  most 
Party-writers,  was  very  uncertain  in  his  politi- 
cal principles.  He  was  employed  to  hold  the 
pen  in  the  Character  of  a  popish  successor, 
but  afterwards  printed  his  Narrative  on  the 
other  side.  He  had  managed  the  ceremony  of 
a  famous  Pope-burning  on  Nov.  17,  1680;  then 
became  a  trooper  in  King  James's  army,  at 
Hounslow-heath.  After  the  Revolution  he 
kept  a  booth  at  Bartholomew-fair,  where,  in 
the  droll  called  St.  George  for  England,  he 
acted  in  his  old  age  in  a  Dragon  of  green  leather 
of  his  own  invention;  he  was  at  last  taken  into 
the  Charter-house,  and  there  died,  aged  sixty 
years.      P.      [Carruthers  observes  that  Settle 


was  really  seventy-six  at  the  time  of  his  death 

(1724).] 

3  After  ver.  284  in  the  former  Edd.  followed : 
*  Diff'rent  our  parties,  but  with  equal  grace 
The  Goddess  smiles  on  Whig  and  Tory  race.* 

Warburtojt, 

*  Thee  shall  the  Patriot,  thee  the  Court- 
ier taste,]  It  stood  in  the  first  edition  with 
blanks  *  *  and  *  *.  Concanen  was  sure  "  they 
must  needs  mean  no  body  but  King  GEORGE 
and  Queen  CAROLINE  ;  and  said  he  would 
insist  it  was  so,  till  the  Poet  cleared  himself  by 
filling  up  the  blanks  otherwise,  agreeably  to  the 
context,  and  consistent  with  his  allegiance."    P. 

°  Polypheme]  He  translated  the  Italian 
Opera  of  Poli/emo ;  but  unfortunately  lost 
the  whole  jest  of  the  story.    P.    [Part  om.l 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


4K 


Pluto  ^  with  Cato  thou  for  this  shalt  join, 

And  link  the  Mourning  Bride  ^  to  Proserpine.  310 

Grubstreet!  thy  fall  should  men  and  Gods  conspire, 
Thy  stage  shall  stand,  ensure  it  but  from  Fire.^ 
Another  iEschylus  appears !  ^  prepare 
For  new  abortions,  ail  ye  pregnant  fair! 

In  flames,  like  Semele's,^  be  brought  to  bed,  315 

While  op'ning  Hell  spouts  wild-fire  at  your  head. 
"  Now,  Bavius,  take  the  poppy  from  thy  brow, 
And  place  it  here!  here  all  ye  Heroes  bow! 
This,  this  is  he,  foretold  by  ancient  rhymes : 
Th'  Augustus  born  to  bring  Saturnian  times.  320 

Signs  following  signs  lead  on  the  mighty  year! 
See !  the  dull  stars  roll  round  and  re-appear. 
See,  see,  our  own  true  Phoebus  wears  the  bays!* 
Our  Midas  sits  Lord  Chancellor  of  Plays ! 
On  Poets'  Tombs  see  Benson's  titles  writ!''  325 

Lo!  Ambrose  Philips  ^  is  preferr'd  for  Wit! 
See  under  Ripley  rise  a  new  White-hall, 
While  Jones'  and  Boyle's  united  Labours  fall ;  9 


1  Faustus,  Pluto,  &'€.']  Names  of  miserable 
Farces,  which  it  was  the  custom  to  act  at  the 
end  of  the  best  Tragedies,  to  spoil  the  digestion 
of  the  audience.    P. 

2  [Congreve's  tragedy.] 

*  ensure  it  but  fro7n  FireJl  In  Tibbald's 
farce  of  Proserpine,  a  corn-field  was  set  on  fire : 
whereupon  the  other  play-house  had  a  barn 
burnt  down  for  the  recreation  of  the  spectators. 
They  also  rival'd  each  other  in  showing  the 
burnings  of  hell-fire,  in  Dr.  Faustus.     P. 

*  Another  ^schylus  appears  /]  It  is  re- 
ported of  iEschylus,  that  when  his  Tragedy  of 
the  Furies  was  acted,  the  audience  were  so  ter- 
rified that  the  children  fell  into  fits.     P. 

5  like  Semele's,']     See  Ovid,  Met.  iii.    P. 

6  Ver.  323.  See,  see,. our  own  df^c]  In  the 
former  Edd. : 

*  Beneath  his  reign  shall  Eusden  wear  the  bays. 

Gibber  preside  Lord  Chancellor  of  plays, 

Benson  sole  Judge  of  Architecture  sit, 

And  Namby  Pamby  be  preferr'd  for  Wit ! 

I  see  th'  unfinish'd  Dormitory  wall, 

I  see  the  Savoy  totter  to  her  fall ; 

Hibernian  Politics,  O  Swift !  thy  doom, 

And  Pope's,  translating  three  whole  years  with 

Broome: 
Proceed  great  days,  &c.'     Warburton. 

''  On  Poets'  Tombs  see  Benson's  Titles 
writ  !'\  W — m  Benson  (Surveyor  of  the  Build- 
ings to  his  Majesty  King  George  I.)  gave  in  a 
report  to  the  Lords,  that  their  House  and  the 
Painted-chamber  adjoining  were  in  immediate 
danger  of  falling.     Whereupon  the  Lords  met 


in  a  committee  to  appoint  some  other  place  to 
sit  in,  while  the  House  should  be  taken  down. 
But  it  being  proposed  to  cause  some  other 
builders  first  to  inspect  it,  they  found  it  in  very 
good  condition.  In  favour  of  this  man,  the 
famous  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  who  had  been 
Architect  to  the  Grown  for  above  fifty  years, 
who  built  most  of  the  churches  in  London,  laid 
the  first  stone  of  St.  Paul's,  and  lived  to  finish 
it,  had  been  displaced  from  his  employment  at 
the  age  of  near  ninety  years.     P.     [Part  om^^ 

^Ambrose  Philips']  "He  was  (saith  Mr. 
Jacob)  one  of  the  wits  at  Button's  and  a  justice 
of  the  peace ;  "  But  he  hath  since  met  with  higher 
preferment  in  Ireland.  He  endeavoured  to  cre- 
ate some  misunderstanding  between  our  Author 
and  Mr.  Addison,  whom  also  soon  after  he  abused 
as  much.  His  constant  cry  was,  that  Mr.  P. 
was  an  Enemy  to  the  government ;  and  in 
particular  he  was  the  avowed  author  of  a  re- 
port very  industriously  spread,  that  he  had  a 
hand  in  a  Party-paper  called  the  Examiner  : 
A  falsehood  well-known  to  those  yet  living,  who 
had  the  direction  and  publication  of  it.  P.  [As 
to  the  reasons  for  Pope's  aversion  from  A.  P. 
see  Introductory  Memoir,  pp.  xv,  xxviii.] 

9  While  Jones  and  Boyle's  united  Labours 
fall  /]  At  the  time  when  this  poem  was  writ- 
ten, the  banqueting-house  at  White-hall,  the 
church  and  piazza  of  Co  vent-garden,  and  the 
palace  and  chapel  of  Somerset-house,  the  works 
of  the  famous  Inigd  Jones,  had  been  for  many 
years  so  neglected,  as  to  be  in  danger  of  ruin. 
The  portico  of  Covent-garden  church  had  been 


412 


THE  DUNCIAD, 


While  Wren  with  sorrow  to  the  grave  descends ;  * 
Gay  dies  unpension'd  ^  with  a  hundred  friends ; 
Hibernian  Politics,  O  Swift!  thy  fate ;  ^ 
And  Pope's,  ten  years  to  comment  and  translate."* 

"-  Proceed,  great  days !  till  Learning  fly  the  shore, 
Till  Birch  shall  blush  with  noble  blood  no  more, 
Till  Thames  see  Eton's  sons  for  ever  play, 
Till  Westminster's  whole  year  be  holiday, 


330 


335 


just  then  restored  and  beautified  at  the  expense 
of  the  earl  of  Burlington  and  [Richard  Boyle] ; 
who,  at  the  same  time,  by  his  publication  of  the 
designs  of  that  great  Master  and  Palladio,  as 
well  as  by  many  noble  buildings  of  his  own, 
revived  the  true  taste  of  Architecture  in  this 
kingdom.  P.  [As  to  Ripley,  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole's  architect  who,  according  to  Wakefield, 
was  employed  in  repairing  Whitehall,  of.  Moral 
Essays,  Ep.  iv.  v.  18  and  note.] 

1  [Sir  Christopher  Wren  died  in  1723,  at  the 
age  of  91.  *  The  length  of  his  life  enriched  the 
reigns  of  several  princes,  and  disgraced  the  last 
of  them.'  Horace  Walpole,  Anecdotes  of 
Printings  quoted  by  War  ton.] 

2  Gay  dies  unpension' d  ^y^c]  See  Mr. 
Gay's  fable  of  the  Hare  and  many  Friends. 
This  gentleman  was  early  in  the  friendship  of 
our  Author,  which  continued  to  his  death.  He 
wrote  several  works  of  humour  with  great  suc- 
cess, the  Shepherd's  Week,  Trivia,  the  What- 
d'ye-call-it,  Fables;  and,  lastly,  the  celebrated 
Beggar's  Opera ;  a  piece  of  satire  which  hits  all 
tastes  and  degrees  of  men,  from  those  of  the 
highest  quality  to  the  very  rabble.  That  verse 
of  Horace, 

Primores  po^uli  arripuit,  populumque  tri- 

bjititn, 
could  never  be  so  justly  applied  as  to  this.  The 
vast  success  of  it  was  unprecedented,  and  almost 
incredible:  What  is  related  of  the  wonderful  ef- 
fects of  the  ancient  music  or  tragedy  hardly  came 
up  to  it:  Sophocles  and  Euripides  were  less  fol- 
lowed and  famous.  It  was  acted  in  London 
sixty-three  days,  uninterrupted;  and  renewed 
the  next  season  with  equal  applauses.  It 
spread  into  all  the  great  towns  of  England, 
was  played  in  many  places  to  the  thirtieth  and 
fortieth  time,  at  Bath  and  Bristol  fifty,  &c.  It 
made  its  progress  into  Wales,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland,  where  it  was  performed  twenty-four 
days  together:  It  was  last  acted  in  Minorca. 
The  fame  of  it  was  not  confined  to  the  Author 
only;  the  ladies  carried  about  with  them  the 
favourite  songs  of  it  in  fans;  and  houses  were 
furnished  with  it  in  screens.  The  person  who 
acted  Polly,  till  then  obscure,  became  all  at 
once  the  favourite  of  the  town;   her  pictures 


were  engraved,  and  sold  in  great  numbers ;  her 
life  written,  books  of  letters  and  verses  to  her 
published ;  and  pamphlets  made  even  of  her  say- 
ings and  jests. 

Furthermore,  it  drove  out  of  England,  for 
that  season,  the  Italian  Opera,  which  had  car- 
ried all  before  it  for  ten  years.  That  idol  of  the 
Nobility  and  people,  which  the  great  Critic  Mr. 
Dennis  by  the  labours  and  outcries  of  a  whole 
life  could  not  overthrow,  was  demolished  by  a 
single  stroke  of  this  gentleman's  pen.  This 
happened  in  the  year  1728.  Yet  so  great  was 
his  modesty,  that  he  constantly  prefixed  to  all 
the  editions  of  it  this  motto,  Nos  hcec  novimus 
esse  nihil.  P.  [See  Epitaph  No.  xii.  and  In- 
troductory Memoir,  p.  xxvi.] 

3  Ver.  331,  in  the  former  Editions  thus: . 

* O  Swift !  thy  doom, 

And  Pope's,  translating  ten  whole  years  with 

Broome.' 
On  which  was  the  following  NotCj  "  He  con- 
cludes his  irony  with  a  stroke  upon  himself;  for 
whoever  imagines  this  a  sarcasm  on  the  other  in- 
genious person  is  surely  mistaken.  The  opinion 
our  Author  had  of  him  was  sufficiently  shewn  by 
his  joining  him  in  the  undertaking  of  the  Odys^ 
sey ;  in  which  Mr.  Broome,  having  engaged 
without  any  previous  agreement,  discharged  his 
part  so  much  to  Mr.  Pope's  satisfaction,  that  he 
gratified  him  with  the  full  sum  of  Five  hundred 
pounds,  and  a  present  of  all  those  books  for 
which  his  own  interest  could  procure  him  sub- 
scribers, to  the  value  of  One  hundred  more. 
The  Author  only  seems  to  lament,  that  he  was 
employed  in  Translation  at  all."    P. 

Hibernian  Politics,  O  Swift!  thy  fate ;] 
See  Book  i.  ver.  26.     P. 

^  And  Pope's,  ten  years  to  comment  and 
translate.]  The  Author  here  plainly  laments 
that  he  was  so  long  employed  in  translating  and 
commenting.  He  began  the  Iliad  in  1713,  and 
finished  it  in  1719.  The  edition  of  Shakespear 
(which  he  undertook  merely  because  no  body 
else  would)  took  up  near  two  years  more  in  the 
drudgery  of  comparing  impressions,  rectifying 
the  Scenery,  &c.,  and  the  translation  of  half 
the  Odyssey  employed  him  from  that  time  to 
1725.    P- 


THE  DUMCIAD.  413 

Till  Isis'  Elders  reel,  their  pupils'  sport, 

Till  Alma  Mater  lie  dissolv'd  in  Port! "  ^  . 

*  Enough!  enough! '  the  raptur'd  Monarch  cries; 
And  thro'  the  Iv'ry  Gate  the  Vision  flies.  340 


THE   DUNCIAD. 
BOOK   THE  FOURTH. 

ARGUMENT. 

The  Poet  being,  in  this  Book,  to  declare  the  Completion  of  the  Prophecies  mentioned 
at  the  end  of  the  former,  makes  a  new  Invocation ;  as  the  greater  Poets  are  wont,  when 
some  high  and  worthy  matter  is  to  be  sung.  He  shews  the  Goddess  coming  in  her  Maj- 
esty, to  destroy  Order  and  Science,  and  to  substitute  the  Kingdom  of  the  Dull  upon  earth. 
How  she  leads  captive  the  Sciences,  and  silenceth  the  Muses,  and  what  they  be  who  suc- 
ceed in  their  stead.  All  her  Children,  by  a  wonderful  attraction,  are  drawn  about  her  ; 
and  bear  along  with  them  divers  others,  who  promote  her  Empire  by  connivance,  weak 
resistance^  or  discouragement  of  Arts ;  such  as  Half-wits,  tasteless  Admirers,  vain  Pre- 
tenders, the  Flatterers  of  Dunces,  or  the  Patrons  of  them.  All  these  crowd  round  her  ; 
one  of  them  offering  to  approach  her  is  driven  back  by  a  Rival ;  but  she  commends  and 
encourages  both.  The  first  who  speak  in  form  are  the  Geniuses  of  the  Schools,  who 
assure  her  of  their  care  to  advance  her  Cause,  by  confining  Youth  to  Words,  and  keeping 
them  out  of  the  way  of  real  Knowledge.  Their  Address,  and  her  gracious  Answer ;  with 
her  Charge  to  them  and  the  Universities.  The  Universities  appear  by  their  proper  Dep- 
uties, and  assure  her  that  the  same  method  is  observed  in  the  progress  ^/Education.  The 
speech  £>/"Aristarchus  on  this  subject.  They  are  drawn  off  by  a  band  of  young  Gentlemen 
returned  from  Travel  with  their  Tutors ;  one  of  whom  delivers  to  the  Goddess,  in  a  polite 
oration,  an  account  of  the  whole  Conduct  and  Fruits  of  their  Travels :  presenting  to  her 
at  the  same  time  a  young  Nobleman  perfectly  accomplished.  She  receives  him  graciously, 
and  endues  him  with  the  happy  quality  ^Z  Want  of  Shame.  She  sees  loitering  about  her 
a  number  ^/Indolent  Persons  abandoning  all  business  and  duty,  and  dying  with  laziness : 
To  these  approaches  the  Antiquary  Annius,  intreating  her  to  make  them  Virtuoso's,  and 
assign  them  over  to  him.  But  Mummius,  another  Antiquary,  complaining  of  his  fraudu- 
lent proceeding,  she  finds  a  method  to  reconcile  their  difference.  Then  enter  a  troop  of 
people  fantastically  adorned,  offering  her  strange  and  exotic  presents  :  Amongst  them  one 
stands  forth  and  demands  justice  on  another,  who  had  deprived  him  of  one  of  the  greatest 
Curiosities  in  nature  ;  but  he  justifies  himself  so  well,  that  the  Goddess  gives  them  both 
her  approbation.  She  recommends  to  them  to  find  proper  employment  for  the  Indolents 
before-mentioned,  in  the  study  (?/" Butterflies,  Shells,  Birds-nests,  Moss,  6^^.  but  with  par- 
ticular caution,  not  to  proceed  beyond  Trifles,  to  any  useful  or  extensive  views  of  Nature, 
or  of  the  Author  of  Nature.  Against  the  last  of  these  apprehensions,  she  is  secured  by  a 
hearty  address  from  the  Minute  Philosophers  and  Freethinkers,  one  of  whom  speaks  in 
the  name  of  the  rest.  The  Youth,  thus  instructed  and  principled,  are  delivered  to  her  in 
a  body,  by  the  hands  dj/Silenus,  and  then  admitted  to  taste  the  cup  of  the  Magus  her  High 
Priest,  which  causes  a  total  oblivion  of  all  Obligations,  divine,  civil,  moral,  or  rational. 
To  these  her  Adepts  she  sends  Priests,  Attendants,  and  Comforters  of  various  kinds  ;  con- 
fers on  them  Orders  and  Degrees  ;  and  then  dismissing  them  with  a  speech,  confirming 
to  each  his  Privileges,  and  telling. what  she  expects  from  each,  concludes  with  a  Yawn  of 
extraordinary  virtue :  The  Progress  and  Effects  whereof  on  all  Orders  of  men,  and  the 
Consummation  ofcUl,  in  the  restoration  6?/ Night  and  Chaos,  conclude  the  Poem, 

1  [Cf.  Book  IV.  V.  ao2,] 


414  THE  DUNCIAD, 


BOOK   IV.i 

YET,  yet  a  moment,  one  dim  Ray  of  Light 
Indulge,  dread  Chaos,  and  eternal  Night! 
Of  darkness  visible  so  much  be  lent, 
As  half  to  shew,  half  veil,  the  deep  Intent. 
Ve  Pow'rs!  whose  Mysteries  restorM  I  sing,  5 

To  whom  Time  bears  me  on  his  rapid  wing, 
Suspend  awhile  your  Force  inertly  strong,*-^ 
Then  take  at  once  the  Poet  and  the  Song. 

Now  flamM  the  Dog-star's  unpropitious  ray, 
Smote  evVy  Brain,  and  withered  ev'ry  Bay ;  10 

Sick  was  the  Sun,  the  Owl  forsook  his  bowV, 
The  moon-struck  Prophet  felt  the  madding  hour : 
Then  rose  the  Seed  of  Chaos,  and  of  Night, 
To  blot  out  Order,  and  extinguish  Light, 

Of  dull  and  venal  a  new  World  ^  to  mould,  15 

And  bring  Saturnian  days  of  Lead  and  Gold. 

She  mounts  the  Throne  :  her  head  a  Cloud  conceard, 
In  broad  Effulgence  all  below  reveal'd ; 
('T  is  thus  aspiring  Dulness  ever  shines) 
Soft  on  her  lap  her  Laureate  son  reclines.  20 

Beneath  her  footstool,*  Science  groans  in  Chains, 
And  Wit  dreads  Exile,  Penalties,  and  Pains. 
There  foam'd  rebellious  Logic^  gs-gg^d  and  bound, 
There,  stript,  fair  Rhefric  languished  on  the  ground ; 
His  blunted  Arms  by  Sophistry  are  borne,  25 

And  shameless  Billingsgate  her  Robes  adorn. 
Morality^  by  her  false  guardians  drawn, 
Chicane  in  Furs,  and  Casuistry  in  Lawn, 
Gasps,  as  they  straiten  at  each  end  the  cord, 

1  This  Book  may  properly  be  distinguished  natural  World  into  Night  and  Chaos  a  new  one 
from  the  former,  by  the  Name  of  the  Greater  should  arise;  this  the  Poet  alluding  to,  in  the 
DuNCiAD,  not  so  indeed  in  Size,  but  in  Subject;  Production  of  a  new  moral  World,  makes  it 
and  so  far  contrary  to  the  distinction  anciently  partake  of  its  original  Principles.  P.  and 
made  of  the  Greater  and  Lesser  Iliad.     But  Warburton. 

much  are  they  mistaken  who  imagine  this  Work  *  Beneath  her  footstool,  &^c.'\     We  are  next 

in  any  wise  inferior  to  the  former,  or  of  any  other  presented  with  the  pictures  of  those  whom  the 

hand  than  of  our  Poet;  of  which  I  am  much  more  Goddess  leads   in   captivity.     Science  is  only 

certain  than  that  the  Iliad  itself  was  the  work  depressed  and  confined   so  as  to  be   rendered 

of  Solomon,  or   the   Batrachomuomachia  of  useless;    but   Wit  or  Genius,  as  a  more   dan- 

Homer,  as  Barnes  hath  affirmed.     '  Bentley.'  gerous  and  active  enemy,  punished,  or  driven 

P.  away:   Dulness  being  often  reconciled  in  some 

2  Force  inertly  strong^  Alluding  to  the  degree  with  Learning,  but  never  upon  any 
Vis  inertice  of  Matter,  which,  tho'  it  really  terms  with  Wit.  And  accordingly  it  will  be 
be  no  Power,  is  yet  the  Foundation  of  all  the  seen  that  she  admits  something  like  each  Sci- 
Qualities  and  Attributes  of  that  sluggish  Sub-  ence,  as  Casuistry,  Sophistry,  &c.  but  nothing 
stance.     P.  and  Warburton.  like  Wit,  Opera  alone  supplying  its  place.    P. 

^  a  new  World]     In  allusion  to  the  Epicu-    and  Warburton. 
rean  opinion,  that  from  the  Dissolution  of  the 


THE  DUNCIAD.  415 


'-fW^ 


And  dies,  when  Dulness  gives  her  Page  the  word.^  30 

Mad  Mdthesis  ^  alone  was  unconfin'd, 

Too  mad  for  mere  material  chains  to  bind, 

Now  to  pure  Space  lifts  her  ecstatic  stare, 

Now  running  round  the  Circle  finds  it  square.* 

But  held  in  ten-fold  bonds  the  Muses  lie,  35 

Watch'd  both  by  Envy's  and  by  Flattery's  eye :  * 

There  to  her  heart  sad  Tragedy  addrest 

The  dagger  wont  to  pierce  the  Tyrant's  breast ; 

But  sober  History  restrain'd  her  rage. 

And  promis'd  Vengeance  on  a  barb'rous  age.  40 

There  sunk  Thalia,  nerveless,  cold,  and  dead. 

Had  not  her  Sister  Satire  held  her  head : 

Nor  could'st  thou,  Chesterfield!^  a  tear  refuse. 

Thou  wept'st,  and  with  thee  wept  each  gentle  Muse. 

When  lo!  a  Harlot  form^  soft  sliding  by,  45 

With  mincing  step,  small  voice,  and  languid  eye : 
Foreign  her  air,  her  robe's  discordant  pride 
In  patch-work  flutt'ring,  and  her  head  aside : 
By  singing  Peers  up-held  on  either  hand. 
She  tripp'd  and  laugh'd,  too  pretty  much  to  stand ;  50 

Cast  on  the  prostrate  Nine  a  scornful  look. 
Then  thus  in  quaint  Recitativo  spoke. 

*'  O  Cara !  Car  a !  silence  all  that  train : 
Joy  to  great  Chaos  !  let  Division  reign :  ^ 

Ogives  her  Page  the  •word.']     There  was  a  other  plays.    The  bill  was  carried  by  Walpole, 

Judge  of  this  name,  always  ready  to  hang  any  notwithstanding  the  vigorous  opposition  of  Lord 

Man   that  came  before   him,  of  which  he  was  Chesterfield,  who  treated  it  as  a  first  step  towards 

suffered  to  give  a  hundred  miserable  examples  a  censorship  of  the  press.     Though  the  powers 

during  a  long  life,  even  to  his  dotage.     P.  and  conferred  by  this  Act  are  still  retained  by  the 

Warburton.     [Cf,  Epilogue  to  Satires,  Dial.  Lord  Chamberlain,  they  are  used  so  sparingly 

II.  V.  159.]  and    temperately    (in    14  years,   from   1852  to 

2  Mad  Mathesis]  Alluding  to  the  strange  1865,  only  19  plays  were  rejected  out  of  2,816) 
Conclusions  some  Mathematicians  have  de-  that  the  restriction  is  practically  little  felt  by 
duced  from  their  principles,  concerning  the  real  managers,  authors  or  public] 

Quantity  of  Matter,  the  Reality  of  Space,  dr-c.         ^  {^Chesterfield,  cf.  Epil.  to  Satires,  Dial.  11. 

P.  and  Warburton.  v.  84.] 

3  running  round  the  Cixc\&  finds  it  square.^  ^  When  lo  !  a  Harlot  for m^  The  Attitude 
Regards  the  wild  and  fruitless  attempts  oisquar-  given  to  this  Phantom  represents  the  nature  and 
ingthe  Circle.     P.  and  Warburton.  genius  of  the //«//««  Opera;  its  affected  airs,  its 

4  Watch'd  both  by  Envy's  and  by  Flatt'ry's  effeminate  sounds,  and  the  practice  of  patching 
eye.^  One  of  the  misfortunes  falling  on  Authors  up  these  Operas  with  favourite  Songs,  incohe- 
from  the  Act  for  subjecting  Plays  to  the  power  rently  put  together.  These  things  were  sup- 
of  a  ZzV^«,y^r,  being  the  false  representations  to  ported  by  the  subscriptions  of  the  Nobility, 
which  they  were  exposed,  from  such  as  either  This  circumstance  that  Opera  should  prepare 
gratify 'd  their  Envy  to  Merit,  or  made  their  for  the  opening  of  the  grand  Sessions  was  proph- 
Court  to  Greatness,  by  perverting  general  Re-  esied  of  in  Book  in.  ver.  304.  P.  and  War- 
flections  against  Vice  into  Libels  on  particular  burton. 

Persons.     P.   and    Warburton.     [A  licensing  '  let  Division  reign  ,•]    Alluding  to  the  false 

Act  had  been  introduced  by  Sir  John  Barnard  taste  of  playing  tricks  in  Music  with  numberless 

in  1735,  but  immediately  abandoned;    the  Act  divisions,  to  the  neglect  of  that  harmony  which 

of  1737  was  occasioned  by  the  political  strokes  conforms  to  the  Sense,  and  applies  to  the  Pas- 

in  Fielding's  Pasquin  and  the  scurrilities  of  sions.      Mr.   Handel  had  introduced  a  great 


4i6  THE  DUNCIAD. 

Chromatic  tortures  ^  soon  shall  drive  them  hence,  55 

Break  all  their  nerves,  and  fritter  all  their  sense : 

One  Trill  shall  harmonize  joy,  grief,  and  rage, 

Wake  the  dull  Church,  and  lull  the  ranting  Stage; 

To  the  same  notes  thy  sons  shall  hum,  or  snore, 

And  all  thy  yawning  daughters  cry,  encore.  60 

Another  Phoebus,  thy  own  Phoebus,  reigns,^ 

Joys  in  my  jigs,  and  dances  in  my  chains. 

But  soon,  ah  soon.  Rebellion  will  commence, 

If  Music  meanly  borrows  aid  from  Sense. 

Strong  in  new  Arms,  lo!  Giant  Handel  ^  stands,  65 

Like  bold  Briareus,  with  a  hundred  hands ; 

To  stir,  to  rouse,  to  shake  the  soul  he  comes. 

And  Jove's  own  Thunders  follow  Mars's  Drums. 

Arrest  him,  Empress  ;  or  you  sleep  no  more  —  " 

She  heard,  and  drove  him  to  th'  Hibernian  shore.  70 

And  now  had  Fame's  posterior  Trumpet  ^  blown. 
And  all  the  Nations  summon'd  to  the  Throne. 
The  young,  the  old,  who  feel  her  inward  sway. 
One  instinct  seizes,  and  transports  away. 

None  need  a  guide,  by  sure  attraction  led,  75 

And  strong  impulsive  gravity  of  Head  ; 
None  want  a  place,  for  all  their  Centre  found, 
Hung  to  the  Goddess,  and  coher'd  around. 
Not  closer,  orb  in  orb,  conglobM  are  seen 
.  The  buzzing  Bees  about  their  dusky  Queen.  80 

The  gath'ring  number,  as  it  moves  along, 
Involves  a  vast  involuntary  throng, 
Who  gently  drawn,  and  struggling  less  and  less. 
Roll  in  her  Vortex,  and  her  pow'r  confess. 
Not  those  alone  who  passive  own  her  laws,  85 

But  who,  weak  rebels,  more  advance  her  cause. 

number  of  Hands,  and  more  variety  of  Instru-  ^  [Handel,  who  came  to  England  in  1710,  was 

ments  into  the  Orchestra,  and  employed  even  an  inmate  of  Lord  Burlington's  house  from  1715 

Drums  and  Cannon  to  make  a  fuller  Chorus;  to  1718,  during  which  lime  Pope  must  have  fre- 

which  proved  so  much  too  manly  for  the  fine  quently  met  him.     His  Messiah  was  produced 

Gentlemen  of  his  age,  that  he  was  obliged  to  in  1741.]     It  is  remarkable,  that  in  the  earlier 

remove  his  music   into  Ireland.     After  which  part  of  his  life,  Pope  was  so  very  insensible  to 

they  were  reduced,  for  want  of  Composers,  to  the  charms  of  music,  that  he  once   asked  his 

practise   the   patch-work  above-mentioned.     P.  friend,   Dr.   Arbuthnot,   who   had   a    fine   ear, 

and  Warburton.  *  whether,   at   Lord   Burlington's  concerts,  the 

1  Chromatic  tortures']     That  species  of  the  rapture   which    the    company  expressed    upon 

ancient  music  called  the  Chromatic  was  a  varia-  hearing  the   compositions  and  performance  of 

tion  and  embellishment,  in  odd  irregularities,  of  Handel   did   not  proceed  wholly  from  afiecta- 

the  Diatonic  kind.     They  say  it  was  invented  tion.*     Warton. 

about  the   time  of  Alexander^  and  that  the  *  Fame's  posterior   Trumpet'\      According 

Spartans  forbad  the  use  of  it,  as  languid  and  to  Hudibras: 

effeminate.     Warburton.  *  She  blows  not  both  with  the  same  Wind, 

'  thy  own  Phoebus  reigns^  But  one  before  and  one  behind; 

*  Tuus  jam  rcgnat  Apollo.*  And  therefore  modern  Authors  name 

Virg.  \Ecl.  V.  10].     P.  One  good,  and  t'other  evil  Fame.' 

P.  and  Warburton,    [Part  om,\ 


THE  DUNCTAD,  417 

Whate'er  of  dunce  in  College  or  in  Town 

Sneers  at  another,  in  toupee  ^  or  gown  ; 

Whate'er  of  mongrel  no  one  class  admits, 

A  wit  with  dunces,  and  a  dunce  with  wits.  90 

Nor  absent  they,  no  members  of  her  state, 
Who  pay  her  homage  in  her  sons,  the  Great ; 
Wljo,  false  to  Phoebus,  bow  the  knee  to  Baal ; 
jOr,  impious,  preach  his  word  without  a  call. 
Patrons,  who  sneak  from  living  worth  to  dead,  95 

Withhold  the  pension,  and  set  up  the  head ; 
Or  vest  dull  FlattVy  in  the  sacred  Gown ; 
Or  give  from  fool  to  fool  the  Laurel  crown. 
And  (last  and  worst)  with  all  the  cant  of  wit, 
Without  the  soul,  the  Muse's  Hypocrite.  100 

There  march'd  the  bard  and  blockhead,  side  by  side, 
Who  rhym'd  for  hire,  and  patroniz'd  for  pride. 
Narcissus,  prais'd  with  all  a  Parson's  pow'r, 
Look'd  a  white  lily  sunk  beneath  a  show'r  ^ 
There  mov'd  Montalto  with  superior  air ;  105 

His  stretch'd-out  arm  display'd  a  volume  fair; 
Courtiers  and  Patriots  in  two  ranks  divide, 
Thro'  both  he  pass'd,  and  bow'd  from  side  to  side :  * 
But  as  in  graceful  act,  with  awful  eye 

Compos'd  he  stood,  bold  Benson  ^  thrust  him  by:  Iio 

On  two  unequal  crutches  propt  he  came, 
Milton's  on  this,  on  that  one  Johnston's  name. 
■'^  The  decent  Knight  ^  retir'd  with  sober  rage. 

Withdrew  his  hand,  and  clos'd  the  pompous  page.* 
But  (happy  for  him  as  the  times  went  then)  1 15 

Appear'd  Apollo's  May'r  and  Aldermen, 
On  whom  three  hundred  gold-capt  youths  await, 
To  lug  the  pond'rous  volume  off  in  state. 
j      When  Dulness,  smiling —  ^' Thus  revive''^  the  Wits! 

1  [The  curl  of  the  wig  at  the  top  of  the  head.]  published  at  Oxford  in  1744,  'with  a  kind  of 

*  Means  Dr.  Middleton's  laboured  encomium  sanction  from  the  University,  as  it  was  printed 
on  Lord  Hervey,  in  his  dedication  of  the  Life  at  the  theatre  with  the  imprimatur  of  the  Vice- 
0/ Cicero.     Warton.  Chancellor,  and  had  no  publisher's  name  on  the 

3  bow' d from  side  to  side  .•]     As  being  of  no  title-page.'    It  was  beautifully  printed  and  ob- 

one  party.     Warburton.  tained  much  favour,  but  its  text  is  character- 

*  bold  Benson]  This  man  endeavoured  to  ised  by  the  editors  of  the  Cambridge  Shak- 
raise  himself  to  Fame  by  erecting  monuments,  spere  (Preface,  p.  xxxiv.)  as  better  indeed  than 
striking  coins,  setting  up  heads,  and  procuring  Pope's,  inasmuch  as  many  of  Theobald's  resto- 
translations,  of  Milton  ;  and  afterwards  by  as  rations  and  some  probable  emendations  were 
great  passion  for  Arthur  Johnston,  a  Scotch  introduced,  but  showing  no  trace  of  collation 
physician's  version  of  the  Psalms,  of  which  he  of  the  earlier  Folios  or  any  of  the  Quartos.] 
printed  many  fine  editions.  See  more  of  him,  ^  Ver,  114.  "What!  no  respect,  he  cry'd. 
Book  III.  ver.  325.     P.  and  Warburton.  for  Shakespear's  page  ?" 

fi  The  decent  Knight]     An  eminent  person,  ^  Thus  revive,  &'c.]    The  Goddess  applauds 

who  was  about  to  publish  a  very  pompous  edi-  the  practice  of  tacking  the  obscure   names  of 

tion  of  a  great  Author,  at  his  own  expense.  Persons  not  eminent  in  any  branch  of  learning, 

P.    arid    Warburton.      Sir   Thomas   Hanmer.  to   those   of   the   most    distinguished   Writers; 

Wakefield.      [His  edition  of    Shakspere   was  either  by  printing  Editions  of  their  works  wun 
2£ 


W-S/v 


4i8 


THE  DUNCIAD, 


\ 


"^ 


^ 


cx  '  But  murder  first,  and  mince  them  all  to  bits ; 

.  ^  As  erst  Medea  (cruel,  so  to  save!) 

A  new  Edition  of  old  ^son  ^  gave  ; 
Let  standard-authors,  thus,  like  trophies  borne, 
Appear  more  glorious  as  more  hackM  and  torn 
I  And  you,  my  Critics!  in  the  chequered  shade, 
f   /  Admire  new  light  thro'  holes  yourselves  have  made. 
'       Leave  not  a  foot  of  verse,  a  foot  of  stone, 
A  Page,2  a  Grave,  that  they  can  call  their  own ; 
But  spread,  my  sons,  your  glory  thin  or  thick, 
On  passive  paper,  or  on  solid  brick. 
So  by  each  Bard  an  Alderman  ^  shall  sit,* 
A  heavy  Lord  shall  hang  at  evVy  Wit, 
And  while  on  Fame's  triumphal  Car  they  ride. 
Some  Slave  of  mine  be  pinion'd  to  their  side." 

Now  crowds  on  crowds  around  the  Goddess  press, 
Each  eager  to  present  their  first  Address. 
Dunce  scorning  Dunce  beholds  the  next  advance, 
^v.>   5  But  Fop  shews  Fop  superior  complaisance. 
'^  When  lo!  a  Spectre  rose,  whose  index-hand 

Held  forth  the  virtue  of  the  dreadful  wand ; 
^ .  His  beaver'd  brow  a  birchen  garland  wears, 

^V  ^    Dropping  with  Infant's  blood,  and  Mother's  tears. 
O'er  ev'ry  vein  a  shudd'ring  horror  runs  ; 
Eton  and  Winton^  shake  thro'  all  their  Sons. 
All  Flesh  is  humbled,  Westminster's  bold  race 
Shrink,  and  confess  the  genius  of  the  place :  ^ 
The  pale  Boy-Senator  yet  tingling  stands. 
And  holds  his  breeches  close  with  both  his  hands. 
J  Then  thus.     ^  Since  Man  from  beast  by  Words  is  known, 
^  Words  are  Man's  province,  Words  we  teach  alone. 
When  Reason  doubtful,  like  the  Samian  letter,^ 
Points  him  two  ways,  the  narrower  is  the  better. 
(  Plac'd  at  the  door  ^  of  Learning,  youth  to  guide, 

impertinent  alterations  of  their  Text,  as  in  the 
former  instances;  or  by  setting  up  Monuments 
disgraced  with  their  own  vile  names  and  inscrip- 
tions, as  in  the  latter.     P.  and  Warburton. 

1  old  yEson]  Of  whom  Ovid  (very  applica- 
ble to  these  restored  authors), 

*  iEson  mz'ratur, 
Dissimilemque  animum  suSz'zt*  — 
P.    and    Warburton.     {Met.  vii.  292  ?   where 
the  story  of  Medea  making  ^son,  the  father 
of  lason,  young  again  is  narrated   concluded. 
The  quotation  is  garbled.] 

^  A  Page,"]  Pagina,  not  Pedisseqiius.  A 
Page  of  a  Book;  not  a  Servant,  Follower,  or 
Attendant;  no  Poet  having  had  a  Page  since 
the  death  of  Mr.  Thomas  Durfey.  Scriblerus. 
P.  and  Warburton. 

3  So  by  each   Bard  an  Alderman,  &r>c  ] 


120 


125 


130 


135 


140 


145 


150 


Vide  the  Tombs  of  the  Poets,  Editio  Westmo- 
nasteriensis.     P.  and  Warbtirton. 

*  a7i  Alderman  shall  s^t,^  Alluding  to  the 
monument  erected  for  Butler  by  Alderman  Bar- 
ber.    P. 

5  [Winchester.] 

6  [Personified  in  Dr.  Busby,  who  wielded 
his  ferule  at  Westminster  School  from  1640  to 
1695.] 

7  like  the  Samian  letter^  The  letter  Y, 
used  by  Pythagoras  as  an  emblem  of  the  differ- 
ent roads  of  Virtue  and  Vice. 

'  Et  tibi  quae  Samios  diduxit  litera  ramos.' 
Pers.  \Sat.  ill.  v.  56].     P.  and  Warburton. 

8  Plac'd  at  the  door,  &'c.'\  This  circum- 
stance of  the  Genius  Loci  (with  that  of  the 
Index-hand  before)  seems  to  be  an  allusion  to 
the  Table  of  Cebes,  where  the  Genius  of  human 


THE  DUNCIAD.  419 

/    We  never  suffer  it  to  stand  too  wide.^ 

To  ask,  to  guess,  to  know,  as  they  commence,  155 

,  As  Fancy  opens  the  quick  springs  of  Sense, 
I  We  ply  the  Memory,  we  load  the  brain, 
\   Bind  rebel  Wit  and  double  chain  on  chain ; 

Confine  the  thought,  to  exercise  the  breath ; 

And  keep  them  in  the  pale  of  Words  till  death.  160 

Whatever  the  talents,  or  howe'er  designed, 

We  hang  one  jingling  padlock  on  the  mind : 

A  Poet  the  first  day  he  dips  his  quill ; 

And  what  the  last?     A  very  Poet  still. 

Pity !  the  charm  works  only  in  our  wall,  165 

Lost,  lost  too  soon  in  yonder  House  or  Hall.^ 

There  truant  W yndham  ^  evVy  Muse  gave  o'er, 

There  Talbot^  sunk,  and  was  a  Wit  no  more! 

How  sweet  an  Ovid,  Murray^  was  our  boast! 

How  many  Martials  were  in  Pult'ney  ^  lost!  170 

Else  sure  some  Bard,  to  our  eternal  praise, 

In  twice  ten  thousand  rhyming  nights  and  days, 

Had  reach'd  the  Work,  the  all  that  mortal  can ; 

And  South  beheld  that  Master-piece  of  Man.' "^ 

^'  Oh  "  (cry'd  the  Goddess)  "for  some  pedant  Reign!        175 

Some  gentle  James,^  to  bless  the  land  again ; 

To  stick  the  Doctor's  Chair  into  the  Throne, 

Give  law  to  Words,  or  war  with  Words  alone. 

Senates  and  Courts  with  Greek  and  Latin  rule, 

And  turr  the  Council  to  a  Grammar  School!  180 

For  sure,  if  Dulness  sees  a  grateful  Day, 

'T  is  in  the  shade  of  Arbitrary  Sway. 

O!  if  my  sons  may  learn  one  earthly  thing. 

Teach  but  that  one,  sufficient  for  a  king ; 

That  which  my  Priests,  and  mine  alone,  maintain,  185 

Which  as  it  dies,  or  lives,  we  fall,  or  reign : 

May  you,  may  Cam  and  Isis,  preach  it  long! 

*  The  Right  Divine  of  Kings  to  govern  wrong.' "  • 

Nature  points  out  the  road  to  be  pursued  by  Poem  is   the  greatest  work   human  nature  is 

those  entering  into  life.     P.  and  Warburton.  capable  of."     P.  and  Warburton. 

1  to  stand  too  ivide.'\  A  pleasant  allusion  to  ^  Some  gentle  James,  &r'c.'\  Wilson  tells  us 
the  description  of  the  door  of  Wisdom  in  the  that  this  King,  James  the  First,  took  upon  him- 
Table  of  Cebes.     Warburton.  self  to  teach  the  Latin  tongue   to  Car,  earl  of 

2  in  yonder  House  or  Hall.]  Westminster-  Somerset;  and  that  Gondomar  the  Spanish  am- 
hall  and  the  House  of  Commons.     P.  bassador  would  speak  false  Latin  to  him,  on  pur- 

3  [Sir  William  Wyndham,  a  leading  member  pose  to  give  him  the  pleasure  of  correcting  it, 
of  the  opposition  against  Walpole,  died  in  1740.]  whereby   he   wrought    himself   into    his    good 

^  [Cf.  Ifjiit.  of  Hor.  Bk.  11.  Ep.  ii.  v.  154]  graces. 

s  [Cf.  Imit.  of  Hor.  Bk.  1.  Ep.  vi.]  This  great  Prince  was  the  first  who  assumed 

6  [Cf.  Epil.  to  Satires,  Dial.  11.  v.  84.]  the   title  of    Sacred   Majesty.      Warburton. 

7  that  Master-piece  of  Man.  "X     Viz.  an  Epi-  [Part  om.'\ 

gram.  The  famous  Dr.  South  declared  a  per-  ^  [The  theory  of  the  divine  right  of  the  sove- 
fect  Epigram  to  be  as  difficult  a  performance  as  reign  and  its  absolute  independence  of  the  law, 
an  Epic  Poem.    And  the  Critics  say,  "  an  Epic    was  first  fully  developed  in  Cowell's  Interpre- 


420 


THE  D  UNCI  AD, 


Prompt  at  the  call,^  around  the  Goddess  roll 
Broad  hats,  and  hoods,  and  caps,  a  sable  shoal :  190 

Thick  and  more  thick  the  black  blockade  extends, 
A  hundred  head  of  Aristotle's  friends.'^ 
Nor  wert  thou,  Isis!  wanting  to  the  day, 
[Tho'  Christ-church  long  kept  prudishly  away.^] 
Each  staunch  Polemic,  stubborn  as  a  rock,  195 

Each  fierce  Logician,  still  expelling  Locke,^ 
Came  whip  and  spur,  and  dashed  thro'  thin  and  thick 
On  German  Crouzaz,^  and  Dutch  Burgersdyck. 
As  many  quit  the  streams  ^  that  murmVing  fall 
To  lull  the  sons  of  Marg'ret  and  Clare-hall,  200 

\  Where  Bentley  late  tempestuous  wont  to  sport 

!  In  troubled  waters,  but  now  sleeps  in  Port.'^ 

'  Before  them  march'd  that  awful  Aristarch  ; 
Ploughed  was  his  front  with  many  a  deep  Remark : 
His  Hat,  which  never  vail'd  to  human  pride,  205 


ter  (1607) ;  and  carried  out  to  its  logical  conse- 
quences in  Filmer's  Patriarca,  which  has  been 
termed  by  Gneist  the  standard  of  this  theory  of 
government  under  Charles  I.] 

^  \Prom.pt  at  the  call,  —  A  ristotle' sfriends\ 
The  Author,  with  great  propriety,  hath  made 
these,  who  were  so  pro^npt  at  the  call  of  Dul- 
ness,  to  become  preachers  of  the  Divine  Right 
of  Kings,  to  be  the  friends  of  Aristotle ;  for 
this  philosopher,  in  his  politics,  hath  laid  it 
down  as  a  principle,  that  some  men  were,  by 
nature,  made  to  serve,  and  others  to  command. 
Warburton. 

*  A  hundred  head  of  Aristotle's  friends."] 
The  Philosophy  of  A  ristotle  hath  suffered  a  long 
disgrace  in  this  learned  University:  being  first 
expelled  by  the  Cartesian,  which,  in  its  turn, 
gave  place  to  the  Newtonian.  But  it  had  all 
this  while  some  faithful  followers  in  secret, 
who  never  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal,  nor  ac- 
knowledged any  strange  God  in  Philosophy. 
These,  on  this  new  appearance  of  the  Goddess, 
came  out  like  Confessors,  and  made  an  open 
profession  of  the  ancient  faith,  in  the  ipse 
dixit  of  their  Master.     Scriblerus. 

[Dr.  Law  speaks  of  the  old  scholastic  method 
which  clung  to  *  the  dull,  crabbed  system  of 
Aristotle's  logic '  as  still  prevailing  in  our  pub- 
lic forms  of  education  a  short  time  before  this 
satire  was  written  (1723).  See  Mullinger's 
Essay  on  Cambridge  in  the  Seventeenth  Cen- 
tury.] 

^  [Tho*  Christ-church]  This  line  is  doubt- 
less spurious,  and  foisted  in  by  the  impertinence 
of  the  Editor;  and  accordingly  we  have  put  it  be- 
tween Hooks.  For  I  affirm  this  College  came  as 
early  as  any  other,  by  'w.^  proper  Deputies  ;  nor 
did  any  College  pay  homage  to  Dulness  in  its 


•whole  body.  *  Bentley.*  P.  and  Warbur- 
ton. 

*  still  expelling-  Locke,]  In  the  year  1703 
there  was  a  meeting  of  the  heads  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford  to  censure  Mr.  Locke's  Essay 
on  Human  Understanding,  and  to  forbid  the 
reading  it.  See  his  Letters  in  the  last  Edit. 
P.  [But  he  was  never  expelled,  only  deprived 
of  his  studentship  at  Christ-Church;  and  this 
on  the  ground  of  political  suspicions,  before  he 
had  written  his  great  Essay.] 

^  [The  hostility  of  Pope  to  Crouzaz  is  readily 
accounted  for  by  the  attack  made  by  the  latter 
on  the  Essay  on  Man.  But  Pope  committed 
a  gross  mistake  in  introducing  his  adversary 
among  Locke's  Aristotelian  opponents,  as  C. 
had  formed  his  philosophy  in  the  school  of 
Locke.     Dugald  Stewart,  quoted  by  Roscoe.] 

^  the  streams]  The  river  Cam,  running  by 
the  walls  of  these  Colleges,  which  are  particu- 
larly famous  for  their  skill  in  Disputation.  P. 
and  Warburton. 

7  sleeps  in  Port.]  Viz.  **  now  retired  into 
harbour,  after  the  tempests  that  had  long  agi- 
tated his  society."  So  Scriblerus.  But  the 
learned  Scipio  Maffei  understands  it  of  a  cer- 
tain wine  called  Port,  from  Oporto  a  city  of 
Portugal,  of  which  this  Professor  invited  him  to 
drink  abundantly.  SciP.  Maff.  De  Cojnpota- 
tionibtis  Acadetnicis.  P.  and  Warburton. 
[Bentley's  quarrel  with  his  College  virtually 
came  to  an  end  with  the  death  of  the  Visitor, 
bp.  Greene,  whose  right  to  decide  the  dispute 
between  the  Master  and  Society  he  had  origi- 
nally challenged.  This  event  happened  in 
1738;  the  quarrel  with  the  University  had  ended 
in  1725  by  the  restoration  of  all  Bentley's  rights 
and  degrees  by  royal  mandamus.] 


THE  DUNCTAD,  421 

f  Walker  ^  with  revVence  took,  and  laid  aside. 
Low  bow'd  the  rest :  He,  kingly,  did  but  nod  ; 
So  upright  Quakers  please  both  Man  and  God. 
"  Mistress !  dismiss  that  rabble  from  your  throne : 

Avaunt is  Aristarchus  '^  yet  unknown?  210 

Thy  mighty  Scholiast,  whose  unweary'd  pains 

Made  Horace  dull,  and  humbled  Milton's  strains.* 

Turn  what  they  will  to  Verse,  their  toil  is  vain, 

Critics  like  me  ^  shall  make  it  Prose  again. 

Roman  and  Greek  Grammarians!  know  your  Better:  215 

Author  of  something  yet  more  great  than  Letter ;  ^ 

While  towVing  o'er  your  Alphabet,  like  Saul, 

Stands  our  Digamma,^  and  o'er-tops  them  all. 

'T  is  true,  on  Words  is  still  our  whole  debate, 

Disputes  of  Me  or  Te^  of  aut  or  at^  220 

To  sound  or  sink  in  cano^  O  or  A, 

Or  give  up  Cicero  to  C  or  K.^ 

Let  Freind  ^  aflfect  to  speak  as  Terence  spoke. 

And  Alsop^  never  but  like  Horace  joke : 

For  me,  what  Virgil,  Pliny  may  deny,  225 

Manilius  ^^  or  Solinus^^  shall  supply : 

For  Attic  Phrase  in  Plato  let  them  seek, 

I  poach  in  Suidas  ^^  for  unlicensed  Greek. 

In  ancient  Sense  if  any  needs  will  deal, 

Be  sure  I  give  them  Fragments,  not  a  Meal ;  230 

*  John  Walker,  Vice-Master  of  Trin.  Coll.  «  While  tow' ring  o*er  your  Alphabet,  like 
Cambridge,  while  Bentley  was  Master.  Car-  Saul,  Stands  our  Digamma,]  Alludes  to  the 
ruthers.  boasted  restoration  of  the  ^olic  Digamma,  in 

[He  laboured  faithfully  for  Bentley,  both  in  his  long  projected  Edition  of  Homer.    P.    [Bent- 
literary  and  personal  matters.     Thuillier  (C^rr.  ley  never  lived  to  finish  this  crowning  work  of 
of  Bentley  ii.  p.  549)  calls  him  *  dignum  tanto  his  life.] 
Magistro  discipulum.']  7  qJ  Me  or  Te,]     It  was  a  serious  dispute, 

^  Aristarchns\      A   famous    Commentator,  about  which  the  learned  were   much   divided, 

and  Corrector  of  Homer,  whose  name  has  been  and  some  treatises  written:     Had  it  been  about 

frequently  used   to   signify   a  complete   Critic.  Meum  or  Tuum,  it  could  not  be  more  contested, 

The  compliment  paid  by  our  Author  to  this  than  whether  at  the  end  of  the  first  Ode  of  Hor- 

eminent  Professor,  in  applying  to  him  so  great  ace,  to  read.  Me  doctarum   hederce  prcetnia 

a  Name,  was  the  reason  that  he  hath  omitted  to  /r ontittm, or, Tc doctarum  hederce—.  ScRiBL. 
comment  on  this  part  which   contains  his  own  ^  Or  give  up  Cicero  to  C  ^r  K.]     Grammat- 

praises.     We  shall  therefore  supply  that  loss  to  ical  disputes  about  the  manner  of  pronouncing 

our  best  ability.     Scribl.     Y.  and  Warburton.  Cicero's  name  in  Greek.    Warburton.  [Rather, 

'  [Bentley's  editions  of  Horace  and  oi  Para-  of  course,  in  Latin.] 
dise  Lost,  published  in  171 1  and  1731   respec-         ^Freind,  Alsop]     Dr.  Robert  Freind,  mas- 

tively.]  ter  of  Westminster-school,  and  canon  of  Christ- 

*  Critics  like  me]     Alluding  to  two  famous  church  —  Dr.  Anthony  Alsop,  a  happy  imitator 
Editions  of  Horace  and  Milton;   whose  richest  of  the  Horatian  style.     P.  and  Warburton. 
veins  of  Poetry  he  hath  prodigally  reduced  to  "^^  [Author  of  the  Astronomicon  —  a  writer 
the  poorest  and  most  beggarly  prose.     Scribl.  of  the  Augustan  age.] 

^  Author  of  something  yet  more  great  than  ^^  [Author  of  the  Polyhistor,  a  compilation 

Letter  ;]    Alluding  to  those  Grammarians,  such  from  Pliny's  Natural  History.] 
as  Palmedes  and  Simonides,  who  invented  sin-         ^^  [The  famous  lexicographer,  of  whose  work 

gle  letters.     But  Aristarchus,  who  had  found  Kiister  (infra,  v.  237)  brought  out  the  Cambridge 

out  a  double  one,  was  therefore  worthy  of  double  editions.] 
honour.    Scribl, 


422  THE  DUNCIAD. 

What  Gellius  or  Stobaeus  ^  hash'd  before, 

Or  chewM  by  blind  old  Scholiasts  o'er  and  o'er. 

The  critic  Eye,  that  microscope  of  Wit, 

Sees  hairs  and  pores,  examines  bit  by  bit : 

How  parts  relate  to  parts,  or  they  to  whole,  235 

The  body's  harmony,  the  beaming  soul, 

Are  things  which  Kuster,  Burman,  Wasse  ^  shall  see, 

When  Man's  whole  frame  is  obvious  to  a  Flea. 
"Ah,  think  not.  Mistress!  more  true  Dulness  lies 

In  Folly's  Cap,  than  Wisdom's  grave  disguise.  240 

,    ^  Like  buoys  that  never  sink  into  the  flood, 

^  V*  On  Learning's  surface  we  but  lie  and  nod. 

Thine  is  the  genuine  head  of  many  a  house, 

And  much  Divinity,  without  a  Noi;?. 

Nor  could  a  Barrow  ^  work  on  ev'ry  block,  245 

Nor  has  one  Atterbury^  spoil'd  the  flock. 

See!  still  thy  own,  the  heavy  Canon  ^  roll, 
,  And  Metaphysic  smokes  involve  the  Pole. 
1  For  thee  we  dim  the  eyes,  and  stuff  the  head 
I  With  all  such  reading  as  was  never  read  :  250 

^     I  For  thee  explain  a  thing  till  all  men  doubt  it, 
I  And  write  about  it.  Goddess,  and  about  it  : 
I  So  spins  the  silk-worm  small  its  slender  store, 
I  And  labours  till  it  clouds  itself  all  o'er. 

"What  tho'  we  let  some  better  sort  of  fool  255 

Thrid  ev'ry  science,  run  thro'  ev'ry  school? 

Never  by  tumbler  thro'  the  hoops  was  shown 

1  Suidas,  Gellius^  Stobceus]  The  first  a  who  equally  made  it  their  care  to  advance  the 
Dictionary-writer,  a  collector  of  impertinent  polite  Arts  in  their  several  Societies.  P.  and 
facts  and  barbarous  words;    the  second  a  mi-     Warbtirton. 

nute  Critic;    the  third  an  author,  who  gave  his  [Dr.  Isaac  Barrow,  the  illustrious  author  of 

Common-place  book   to  the  public,  where  we  the  treatise  On  the  Supremacy  of  the  Pope, 

happen  to  find  much  Mince-meat  of  old  books,  master  of  Trinity,  Cambridge,  with  which  col- 

P.  and  Warburton.  lege  his  name  is  indelibly  associated,  and  succes- 

[A.   Gellius'   Nodes  Attic  ce  is  little  but  a  sively  Professor  of  Greek  and  Lucasian  Professor 

scrap-book  from   other  authors,  and  Stobaeus'  of  Mathematics,     To  him  more  than  any  other 

famous  work  was  Eclogce,  or  selections   from  man  is  owing  the  direction  taken  by  Cambridge 

about  500  authors.]  towards    mathematical    studies.      He    died    in 

2  Burmann,  Kuster  and  Wasse  were  men  of  1677.] 

real  and  useful  erudition.     Warton.    [Burmann  ^  [Cf. -ff/zV^?/-^  No.  xiii.] 

is  Peter  Burmann,  who  died  at  Utrecht  in  1741,  ^  Canon  here,  if  spoken  of  Artillery,  is  in  the 

the  most   illustrious  of  a  family  of  scholars.]  plural  number;  if  of  the  Canons  of  the  House, 

Ludolf    Kuster,  of   Amsterdam,  the  editor   of  in   the   singular,   and  meant   only  of  one ;   in 

Aristophanes  and  a  correspondent  of  Bentley's,  which  case  I   suspect  the  Pole  to  be  a  false 

died  in  1716.  —  Joseph  Wasse,  fellow  of  Queen's  reading,  and    that   it    should  be   the  Poll,   or 

College  Cambridge,  was  co-editor  with  Jebb,  of  Head  oi  that  Canon.     It  may  be  objected,  that 

the    Bibh'otheca   Litteraria  (1722);    and  also  \\\\?>'\%z.xa^x&  Paro7iomasiaox  Prin.     But  what 

edited  Sallust.  of  that?     Is  any  figure  of  speech  more  apposite 

3  Barrow,  Atterbury\  Isaac  Barrow,  to  our  gentle  Goddess,  or  more  frequently  used 
Master  of  Trinity,  Francis  Atterbury,  Dean  of  by  her  and  her  Children,  especially  of  the  Uni- 
Christ-church,  both  great  Geniuses  and  eloquent  versity?  Scriblerus.  Pope  atid  Warburton. 
Preachers;  one  more  conversant  in  the  sublime  [Part  om.'\  [Some  Canon  of  Christ-Church  is 
Geometry ;  the  other  in  classical  Learning ;  but  evidently  alluded  to.] 


THE  DUNCIAD.  423 

Such  skill  in  passing  all,  and  touching  none ;  * 

He  may  indeed  (if  sober  all  this  time) 

Plague  with  Dispute,  or  persecute  with  Rhyme.  260 

We  only  furnish  what  he  cannot  use, 

Or  wed  to  what  he  must  divorce,  a  Muse : 

Full  in  the  midst  of  Euclid  dip  at  once, 

And  petrify  a  Genius  to  a  Dunce : 

Or  set  on  Metaphysic  ground  to  prance,  265 

Show  all  his  paces,  not  a  step  advance. 
I  With  the  same  Cement,  ever  sure  to  bind, 
i  We  bring  to  one  dead  level  evVy  mind. 
'  Then  take  him  to  develop,  if  you  can, 
{i  ^•x  ^         \  And  hew  the  Block  ofF,-^  and  get  out  the  Man.  270 

V    1  '  But  wherefore  waste  I  words  ?     I  see  advance 

Whore,  Pupil,  and  lac'd  Governor  from  France. 

Walker!    our  hat " nor  more  he  deign'd  to  say, 

But,  stern  as  Ajax'  spectre,  strode  away.^ 

In  flowM  at  once  a  gay  embroidered  race,  275 

And  titf  ring  push'd  the  Pedants  off  the  place  : 

Some  would  have  spoken,  but  the  voice  was  drown'd 

By  the  French  horn,  or  by  the  opening  hound. 

The  first  came  forwards,  with  as  easy  mien, 

As  if  he  saw  St.  James's  and  the  Queen.  280 

When  thus  th'  attendant  Orator  begun, 

"Receive,  great  Empress!  thy  accomplished  Son: 

Thine  from  the  birth,  and  sacred  from  the  rod, 

A  dauntless  infant!  never  scared  with  God. 

The  Sire  saw,  one  by  one,  his  Virtues  wake :  285 

The  mother  begg'd  the  blessing  of  a  Rake. 

Thou  gav'st  that  Ripeness,  which  so  soon  began, 

And  ceas'd  so  soon,  he  ne'er  was  Boy,  nor  Man, 
)  Thro'  School  and  College,  thy  kind  cloud  o'ercast, 
/  Safe  and  unseen  the  young  ^neas  past :  290 

Thence  bursting  glorious,^  all  at  once  let  down, 

Stunn'd  with  his  giddy  Larum  half  the  town. 
I  Intrepid  then,  o'er  seas  and  lands  he  flew : 

1  These  two  verses  are  verbatim  from  an  epi-  and  the  University  tutor,  for  the  spoils  of  our 

gram  of  Dr.  Evans,  of  St.  John's  College,  Ox-  young  heroes,  and  fashion   adjudged  it  to  the 

ford;    given  to  my  father  twenty  years  before  former;    so  that  this  might  well  occasion  the 

the  Dunciad  was  written.     Warton.  sullen  dignity  in  departure,  which  Longinus  so 

^  And  he7v  the  Block  off ,'\  A  notion  of  Aris-  much    admired.      Scribl.       Warburton    and 

totle,  that  there  was  originally  in  every  block  Warton. 

of  marble  a  Statue,  which  would  appear  on  the  *  unseen  the  young  iEneas  past :    Thence 

removal  of  the  superfluous  parts.     P.  and  War-  bursting  glorious^]  See  Virg.  Mn.  i.  [vv.  411- 

burton.  417],  where  he  enumerates  the  causes  why  his 

^  sterti   as   Aj'ax'   spectre,   strode  away.]  mother  took  this  care  of  him;    to  wit,  i.  that 

See   Homer,  Odyss.  xi.,  where  the  Ghost  of  nobody  might  touch  or  correct  him:    2.  might 

Ajax  turns  sullenly  from  Ulysses  the  Travel-  stop  or  detain  him:  3.  examine  him  about  the 

ler,  who  had  succeeded  against  him  in  the  dis-  progress  he  had  made,  or  so  much  as  guess  why 

pute  for  the  arms  of  Achilles.    There  had  been  he  came  there.     P.  and  Warburton, 
the  same  contention  between  the    Travelling 


300 


424  THE  DUNCTAD, 

\  Europe  he  saw,  and  Europe  saw  him  too. 

There  all  thy  gifts  and  graces  we  display,  295 

Thou,  only  thou,  directing  all  our  way! 

To  where  the  Seine,  obsequious  as  she  runs, 

Pours  at  great  Bourbon's  feet  her  silken  sons ; 

Or  Tiber,  now  no  longer  Roman,  rolls, 

Vain  of  Italian  Arts,  Italian  Souls  : 

To  happy  Convents,  bosoniM  deep  in  vines, 

Where  slumber  Abbots,  purple  as  their  wines :  * 

To  Isles  of  fragrance,  lily-silver'd  vales,^ 

Diffusing  languor  in  the  panting  gales  : 

To  lands  of  singing,  or  of  dancing  slaves,  305 

Love-whisp'ring  woods,  and  lute-resounding  waves. 

But  chief  her  shrine  where  naked  Venus  keeps, 

And  Cupids  ride  the  Lion  of  the  Deeps ;  ^ 

Where,  eas'd  of  Fleets,  the  Adriatic  main 
.  Wafts  the  smooth  Eunuch  and  enamour'd  swain.  310 

Led  by  my  hand,  he  saunter'd  Europe  round, 
5  And  gathered  evVy  Vice  on  Christian  ground; 
:  Saw  evVy  Court,  heard  evVy  King  declare 

His  royal  Sense  of  OpVas  or  the  Fair ; 
;  The  Stews  and  Palace  equally  explored,  315 

■  Intrigu'd  with  glory,  and  with  spirit  whor'd; 
'  Try'd  all  hors-d^ceuvres^  all  liqueurs  defin'd. 

Judicious  drank,  and  greatly-daring  din'd  ; 
i  Dropt  the  dull  lumber  of  the  Latin  store, 
iSpoiPd  his  own  language,  and  acquir'd  no  more;  320 

jAll  Classic  learning  lost  on  Classic  ground ; 

jAnd  last  turned  Air,  the  Echo  of  a  Sound!* 

See  now,  half-cur'd,  and  perfectly  well-bred. 

With  nothing  but  a  Solo  in  his  head ;  ^ 

As  much  Estate,  and  Principle,  and  Wit,  325 

As  Jansen,  Fleetwood,  Cibber  ^  shall  think  fit ; 

StoPn  from  a  Duel,  follow'd  by  a  Nun, 

'  [This  phrase,  which  Warton  traces  to  J.  B.  how  should  there  be  any  thing  else?    Palpable 

Rousseau,  alludes  to  the  purple  stockings  worn  Tautology!     Read  boldly  an  Opera^  which  is 

by  Abbds.]  enough  of  conscience  for  such  a  head  as  has  lost 

2  Itly-silver'd  va/es,]    Tuberoses.     P.  all  its  Latin.    *  Bent.' 

^  And  Cupids  ride  the  Lion  0/ the  Deeps ;"[  ^Jansen,  Fleetwood,  Cibber]     Three  very 

The  winged  Lion,  the  Arms  of  Venice.     This  eminent  persons,  all  Managers  of /*/^^j/  who, 

Republic   heretofore  the  most  considerable  in  tho'  not  Governors  by  profession,  had,  each  in 

Europe,  for  her  Naval  Force  and  the  extent  of  his  way,  concerned  themselves  in  the  Education 

her  Commerce;  now  illustrious  for  her  Carni-  of  Youth:  and  regulated  their  Wits,  their  Mor- 

vals.     P.  and  Warburton.  als,  or  their  Finances,  at  that  period  of  their  age 

^  And   last    turn'd    Air,    the    Echo    of  a  which  is  the  most  important,  their  entrance  into 

Son7id  /]     Yet   less  a  Body  than   Echo  itself;  the  polite  world.     Of  the  last  of  these,  and  his 

for  Echo  reflects  Sense  or  Words  at  least,  this  Talents  for  this  end,  see  Book  i.  ver.  199,  &c. 

Gentleman  only  Airs  and  Tunes  :  P.  and  Warbtcrton.     \  Fleetwood  was  patentee 

*  Sonus  est,  qui  vivit  in  illo.'  of  Drury-Lane  Theatre  from  1734  to  1745 ;  it  was 

Ovid,  Met.  [iii.  v.  401  J.     Scriblerus.  the  attempted   secession  of  his  actors  in  1743 

^  With   nothing  but  a  Solo  in  his  head ;'\  which  gave  rise  to  the  famous  quarrel  of  Macklin 

With  nothing  but  a  Solo  ?    Why,  if  it  be  a  Solo,  with  Garrick.] 


THE  DUNCIAD.  425 

And,  if  a  Borough  choose  him  not,  undone ;  ^ 

See,  to  my  country  happy  I  restore 

This  glorious  Youth,  and  add  one  Venus  more.  330 ' 

Her  too  receive  (for  her  my  soul  adores) 

So  may  the  sons  of  sons  of  sons  of  whores. 

Prop  thine,  O  Empress!  like  each  neighbour  Throne, 

And  make  a  long  Posterity  thy  own." 

Pleas'd,  she  accepts  the  Hero,  and  the  Dame  335 

Wraps  in  her  Veil,  and  frees  from  sense  of  Shame. 
Then  lookM,  and  saw  a  lazy,  lolling  sort, 

Unseen  at  Church,  at  Senate,  or  at  Court, 

Of  ever-listless  LoitVers,  that  attend 

No  Cause,  no  Trust,  no  Duty,  and  no  Friend.  340 

Thee  too,  my  Paridel!  ^  she  mark'd  thee  there, 
i  Stretched  on  the  rack  of  a  too  easy  chair, 
{ And  heard  thy  everlasting  yawn  confess 
I  The  Pains  and  Penalties  of  Idleness. 

She  pity'd!  but  her  Pity  only  shed  345 

Benigner  influence  on  thy  nodding  head. 
But  Annius,^  crafty  Seer,  with  ebon  wand, 

And  well  dissembled  emVald  on  his  hand. 

False  as  his  Gems,  and  canker'd  as  his  Coins, 

Came,  cramm'd  with  capon,  from  where  Pollio  dines.*  350 

Soft,  as  the  wily  Fox  is  seen  to  creep. 

Where  bask  on  sunny  banks  the  simple  sheep, 

Walk  round  and  round,  now  prying  here,  now  there, 

So  he ;  but  pious,  whisper'd  first  his  pray'r. 
"  Grant,  gracious  Goddess!  grant  me  still  to  cheat,  355 

O  may  thy  cloud  still  cover  the  deceit! 

Thy  choicer  mists  on  this  assembly  shed, 

But  pour  them  thickest  on  the  noble  head. 

So  shall  each  youth,  assisted  by  our  eyes, 

See  other  Caesars,  other  Homers  rise ;  360 

Thro'  twilight  ages  hunt  th'  Athenian  fowl,^ 

Which  Chalcis  Gods,  and  mortals  call  an  Owl, 

Now  see  an  Attys,  now  a  Cecrops  ^  clear, 

*  [This  seems  to  allude  to  the  protection  of  a  tions,  which  he  was  prompted  to  by  mere  vanity, ' 
member  of  Parliament  against  arrest  for  debt.]  but  our  Annius  had  a  more  substantial  motive. 

*  Thee  too,myV^x\6.^\\'\  The  Poet  seems  to  P.  and  Warburton.  Sir  Andrew  Fountaine. 
speak  of  this  young  gentleman  with  great  affec-  Warton.  [But  this  is  doubted  by  Roscoe,  since 
tion.     The  name  is  taken  from   Spenser,  who  Sir  A.  F.  was  a  friend  of  Swift's.] 

gives  it  to  a  wandering  Courtly  'Squire,  that         *  This  seems  more  obscure  than  almost  any 

travelled  about  for  the  same  reason,  for  which  other  passage  in  the  whole.     Perhaps  he  meant 

many  young  Squires  are  now  fond  of  travelling,  the  Prince  of  Wales's  dinners.     Boivles. 
and  especially  to  Paris.     P.  and  Warburton.         ^  hunt  tit  Athenian  fowl, \  The  Owl  stamp'd 

[Paridell  narrates  his  lineage  in  Canto  x.  of  Book  on  the  reverse  on  the  ancient  money  of  Athens. 

III.  of  the  Faerie  Queene  ;  and  acts  in  accord-  *  Which  Chalcis  Gods,  and  mortals  call  an  Owl,' 

ance  with  it  in  the  following  Canto.]  is  the  verse  by  which  Hobbes  renders  that  of 

3  ^««/7^ J,]  The  name  taken  from  Annius  the  Homer   [//.   xiv.   291].     P.  and  Warburton. 

Monk  of  Viterbo,  famous  for  many  Impositions  [Ku/otii^St?  is  a  kind  of  hawk.] 
and  Forgeries  of  ancient  manuscripts  and  inscrip-         ^  Attys  ^  Cecrops\    The  first  Kings  of  Athens, 


426  THE  DUNCIAD. 

Nay,  Mahomet!  the  Pigeon  at  thine  ear; 

Be  rich  in  ancient  brass,  tho^  not  in  gold,  365 

And  keep  his  Lares,  tho'  his  house  be  sold; 

To  headless  Phoebe  his  fair  bride  postpone. 

Honour  a  Syrian  Prince  above  his  own ; 

Lord  of  an  Otho,  if  I  vouch  it  true  ; 

Blest  in  one  Niger,  till  he  knows  of  two."  ^  370 

Mummius  "^  overheard  him  ;  Mummius,  Fool-renown'd,^ 
Who  like  his  Cheops  ^  stinks  above  the  ground. 
Fierce  as  a  startled  Adder,  swelPd,  and  said. 
Rattling  an  ancient  Sistrum  ^  at  his  head  : 

'-  Speak'st  thou  of  Syrian  Princes?  ^    Traitor  base!  375 

Mine,  Goddess!  mine  is  all  the  horned  race. 
True,  he  had  wit,  to  make  their  value  rise ; 
From  foolish  Greeks  to  steal  them,  was  as  wise ; 
More  glorious  yet,  from  barbVous  hands  to  keep, 
When  Sallee  Rovers  chased  him  on  the  deep.  380 

Then  taught  by  Hermes,  and  divinely  bold, 
Down  his  own  throat  he  risked  the  Grecian  gold, 
Received  each  Demi-God,"^  with  pious  care. 
Deep  in  his  Entrails  —  I  rever'd  them  there, 
I  bought  them,  shrouded  in  that  living  shrine,  385 

And,  at  their  second  birth,  they  issue  mine.' 

*^  Witness,  great  Ammon!  ^  by  whose  horns  I  swore," 
(Reply'd  soft  Annius)  "  this  our  paunch  before 

of  whom  it  Is  hard  to  suppose  any  Coins  are  any  of  the  Cleopatras.     This  Royal  Mummy, 

extant;   but  not  so  improbable  as  what  follows,  being  stolen  by  a  wild  Arab,  was  purchased  by 

that  there  should  be  any  of  Mahomet,  who  for-  the  Consul  of  Alexandria,  and  transmitted  to  the 

bad  all  Images;  and  the  story  of  whose  Pigeon  Museum  of  Mummius;    for  proof  of  which  he 

was  a  monkish  fable.     Nevertheless  one  of  these  brings  a  passage   in   Sandys's  Travels,  where 

Annius's  made  a  counterfeit  medal  of  that  Im-  that  accurate  and  learned  Voyager  assures   us 

postor,  now  in  the  collection  of  a  learned  Noble-  that  he  saw  the  Sepulchre  empty  ;  which  agrees 

man.     P.  and  Warburton.  exactly   (saith  he)   with   the  time  of  the  theft 

1  [Compare  with  this  passage  Moral  Essays,  above-mentioned.     But  he  omits  to  observe  that 
Ep.  v.]  Herodotus  tells  the  same  thing  of  it  in  his  time. 

[Said  by  Warton  to  refer  to  Dr.  Mead,  which  P.  and  Warburton. 
is  highly  improbable.]  ^  [Xhe  rattle  used  in  the  worship  of  Isis.] 

2  Mummius]  This  name  is  not  merely  an  al-         «  Speak' st  thou  of  Syrian  Princes  ?  (S?*^.] 
'lusion  to  the  Mummies  he  was  so  fond  of,  but  The  strange    story   following,   which    may  be 

probably  referred  to  the  Roman  General  of  that  taken  for  a  fiction  of  the  Poet,  is  justified  by  a 
name,  who  burned  Corinth,  and  committed  the  true  relation  in  Spon's  Voyages  [of  Vaillant,  the 
curious  Statues  to  the  Captain  of  a  ship,  assur-  French  historian  of  the  Syrian  kings,  swallow- 
ing him,  *'  that  if  any  were  lost  or  broken,  he  ing  twenty  gold  medals  when  the  ship  in  which 
should  procure  others  to  be  made  in  their  stead:  "  he  was  returning  to  France  was  attacked  by 
by  which  it  should  seem  (whatever  may  be  pre-  Sallee  pirates].  P.  and  Warburton. 
tended)  that  Mummius  was  no  Virtuoso.  P.  "^  Each  Demi-God,]  They  are  called  0eoi  on 
and  Warbtirion.  their  Coins.     P.  and  Warburton. 

2  Fool-renown  d^  A  compound  epithet  in  the         »  Witness,  great  Ammon !]     Jupiter  Ammon 

Greek  manner,  renown' d  by  Fools,  or  renowned  is  called  to  witness,  as  the  father  of  Alexander, 

for  making  Fools.     P.  to  whom  those  Kings  succeeded  in  the  division 

*  Cheops]  A  King  of  Egypt,  whose  body  was  of  the  Macedonian  Empire,  and  whose  Horns 

certainly  to  be  known,  as  being  buried  alone  in  they  wore  on  their   Medals.      P.   and   War- 

his  Pyramid,  and  is  therefore  more  genuine  than  burton. 


THE  DUNCTAD,  427 

Still  bears  them,  faithful ;  and  that  thus  I  eat, 

Is  to  refund  the  Medals  with  the  meat.  390 

To  prove  me,  Goddess!  clear  of  all  design, 

Bid  me  with  Pollio  sup,  as  well  as  dine : 

There  all  the  LearnM  shall  at  the  labour  stand, 

And  Douglas  ^  lend  his  soft,  obstetric  hand." 

The  Goddess  smiling  seem'd  to  give  consent ;  395 

So  back  to  Pollio,  hand  in  hand,  they  went. 

Then  thick  as  Locusts  blackening  all  the  ground, 
A  tribe,  with  weeds  and  shells  fantastic  crown'd. 
Each  with  some  wondVous  gift  approach'd  the  Pow'r, 
A  Nest,  a  Toad,  a  Fungus,  or  a  Flow'r.  400 

But  far  the  foremost,  two,  with  earnest  zeal, 
And  aspect  ardent  to  the  Throne  appeal. 

The  first  thus  open'd  :  "Hear  thy  suppliant's  call. 
Great  Queen,  and  common  Mother  of  us  all! 
Fair  from  its  humble  bed  I  reared  this  Flow'r,  405 

Suckled,  and  cheer'd,  with  air,  and  sun,  and  show'r, 
Soft  on  the  paper  ruff  its  leaves  I  spread. 
Bright  with  the  gilded  button  tipt  its  head ; 
Then  thron'd  in  glass,  and  named  it  Caroline  ;  ^ 
Each  maid  cry'd.  Charming!  and  each  youth,  Divine!  410 

Did  Nature's  pencil  ever  blend  such  rays, 
Such  vary'd  light  in  one  promiscuous  blaze  ? 
Now  prostrate!  dead!  behold  that  Caroline : 
No  maid  cries.  Charming!  and  no  youth,  Divine! 
And  lo  the  wretch!  whose  vile,  whose  insect  lust  415 

Laid  this  gay  daughter  of  the  Spring  in  dust. 
Oh  punish  him,  or  to  the  Elysian  shades 
Dismiss  my  soul,  where  no  Carnation  fades ! " 
He  ceas'd,  and  wept.     With  innocence  of  mien, 
Th'  Accus'd  stood  forth,  and  thus  address'd  the  Queen.        420 

"  Of  all  th'  enamell'd  race,  whose  silv'ry  wing 
Waves  to  the  tepid  Zephyrs  of  the  spring. 
Or  swims  along  the  fluid  atmosphere, 
Once  brightest  shin'd  this  child  of  Heat  and  Air. 
I  saw,  and  started  from  its  vernal  bow'r,  425 

The  rising  game,  and  chas'd  from  flow'r  to  flow'r. 
\It  fled,  I  follow'd  ;  now  in  hope,  now  pain ; 
[It  stopt,  I  stopt ;  it  mov'd,  I  mov'd  again. 
"At  last  it  fix'd,  't  was  on  what  plant  it  pleas'd. 
And  where  it  fix'd,  the  beauteous  bird  I  seiz'd :  430 

*  Douglas]   A  Physician  of  great  Learning  great  persons,  to  give  their  names  to  the  most 

and  no  less  Taste;    above  all  curious  in  what  curious   Flowers  of  their  raising:    Some   have 

related  to  Horace^  of  whom  he  collected  every  been  very  jealous  of  vindicating  this  honour, 

Edition,    Translation,    and    comment,    to    the  but  none  more  than  that  ambitious  Gardener  at 

number  of  several  hundred  volumes.    P.  and  Hammersmith,  who  caused  his  Favourite  to  be 

Warburton.  painted  on  his  sign,  with  this  inscription,  Thu 

^  and  named  zi  CsiroVinc:]  It  is  a  compliment  is  My  Queen  Caroline.  V.and  Warburton, 
which  the  Florists  usually  pay  to  Princes  and 


428 


THE  DUNCTAD, 


Rose  or  Carnation  was  below  my  care ; 

I  meddle,  Goddess!  only  in  my  sphere. 

I  tell  the  naked  fact  without  disguise, 

And,  to  excuse  it,  need  but  shew  the  prize ; 

Whose  spoils  this  paper  offers  to  your  eye,  435 

Fair  ev'n  in  death !  this  peerless  Butterfly y 

"My  sons!  "  (she  answer^)  "both  have  done  your  parts  : 
Live  happy  both,  and  long  promote  our  arts! 
But  hear  a  Mother,  when  she  recommends 
To  your  fraternal  care  our  sleeping  friends.^  440 

The  common  Soul,  of  Heav'n's  more  frugal  make, 
Serves  but  to  keep  fools  pert,  and  knaves  awake : 
A  drowsy  Watchman,  that  just  gives  a  knock, 
And  breaks  our  rest,  to  tell  us  what's  a-clock. 
Yet  by  some  object  ev'ry  brain  is  stirr'd ;  445 

The  dull  may  waken  to  a  humming-bird ; 
The  most  recluse,  discreetly  opened,  find 
Congenial  matter  in  the  Cockle-kind ; 
The  mind,  in  Metaphysics  at  a  loss, 

May  wander  in  a  wilderness  of  Moss  ;  ^  450 

The  head  that  turns  at  super-lunar  things, 
Pois'd  with  a  tail,  may  steer  on  Wilkins'  wings. ^ 

"  O !  would  the  Sons  of  Men  once  think  their  Eyes 
And  Reason  giv'n  them  but  to  study  Flies  I 
See  Nature  in  some  partial  narrow  shape,  455 

And  let  the  Author  of  the  Whole  escape : 
Learn  but  to  trifle ;  or,  who  most  observe. 
To  wonder  at  their  Maker,  not  to  serve!  ^ 

"  Be  that  my  task  "  (replies  a  gloomy  Clerk, 
Sworn  foe  to  Myst'ry,  yet  divinely  dark ;  460 

Whose  pious  hope  aspires  to  see  the  day 
When  Moral  Evidence  shall  quite  decay,* 


1  our  sleeping  friends. '\  Of  whom  see  ver. 
345  above.    P. 

2  a  wilderness  of  Moss  /]  Of  which  the  Nat- 
uralists count  I  can't  tell  how  many  hundred 
species.     P.  and  Warburton. 

3  Wilkins'  luings]  One  of  the  first  Projectors 
of  the  Royal  Society,  who,  among  many  enlarged 
and  useful  notions,  entertained  the  extravagant 
hope  of  a  possibility  to  fly  to  the  Moon;  which 
has  put  some  volatile  Geniuses  upon  making 
wings  for  that  purpose.     P.  and  Warburton. 

[Dr.  John  Wilkins  was  successively  Warden 
of  Wadham  College,  Oxford,  and  master  of 
Trinity,  Cambridge.  He  married  a  sister  of 
Oliver  Cromwell.  His  first  publication  (written 
in  1638,  many  years  before  the  foundation  of  the 
Royal  Society)  was  the  famous  Discovery  of  a 
Nenv  World,  or  a  Discourse  to  prove  that  it 
is  probable  there  may  be  another  habitable 
world  in  the  moon  ;  with  a  Discottrse  con- 
cerning the  possibility  of  a  passage  thither* 


The  Royal  Society,  in  those  early  transactions 
which  Butler  so  copiously  ridiculed,  never  seems 
to  have  taken  up  this  subject  in  its  original  ful- 
ness.] 

*  When  Moral  Evidence  shall  qnite  decay  ^ 
Alluding  to  a  ridiculous  and  absurd  way  of  some 
Mathematicians,  in  calculating  the  gradual  decay 
of  Moral  Evidence  by  mathematical  proportions: 
according  to  which  calculation,  in  about  fifty 
years  it  will  be  no  longer  probable  that  Julius 
Csesar  was  in  Gaul,  or  died  in  the  Senate-house, 
See  Craig's  Theologice  Christiance  Priiici- 
pia  Mathematica.  But  as  it  seems  evident, 
that  facts  of  a  thousand  years  old,  for  instance, 
are  now  as  probable  as  they  were  five  hundred 
years  ago;  it  is  plain  that  if  in  fifty  more  they 
quite  disappear,  it  must  be  owing,  not  to  their 
Arguments,  but  to  the  extraordinary  Power  of 
our  Goddess ;  for  whose  help  therefore  they  have 
reason  to  pray.     P.  and  Warburton. 


THE  DUNCTAD, 


429 


}r\ 


And  damns  implicit  faith,  and  holy  lies, 
Prompt  to  impose,  and  fond  to  dogmatize :) 
"  Let  others  creep  by  timid  steps,  and  slow, 
On  plain  Experience  lay  foundations  low. 
By  common  sense  to  common  knowledge  bred, 
And  last,  to  Nature's  Cause  thro'  Nature  led. 
All-seeing  in  thy  mists,  we  want  no  guide. 
Mother  of  Arrogance,  and  Source  of  Pride! 
We  nobly  take  the  high  Priori  Road,i 
And  reason  downward,  till  we  doubt  of  God ; 
Make  Nature  still  '^  encroach  upon  his  plan ; 
And  shove  him  off  as  far  as  e'er  we  can : 
Thrust  some  Mechanic  Cause  into  his  place ;  * 
Or  bind  in  Matter,  or  diffuse  in  Space. 
'  Or,  at  one  bound  o'er-leaping  all  his  laws, 
Make  God  Man's  Image,  Man  the  final  Cause, 
Find  Virtue  local,  all  Relation  scorn, 
See  all  in  Self^  and  but  for  self  be  born : 
Of  naught  so  certain  as  our  Reason  still. 
Of  naught  so  doubtful  as  of  Soul  and  Will^ 
Oh  hide  the  God  still  more!  and  make  us  see 
Such  as  Lucretius  drew,^  a  God  like  Thee : 
Wrapt  up  in  Self,  a  God  without  a  Thought, 
Regardless  of  our  merit  or  default. 
Or  that  bright  Image  ^  to  our  fancy  draw, 
Which  Theocles  in  raptur'd  vision  saw,^ 
While  thro'  Poetic  scenes  the  Genius  roves, 


465 


470 


475 


480 


485. 


1  the  high  Priori  Road,']  Those  who,  from 
the  effects  in  this  Visible  world,  deduce  the  Eter- 
nal Power  and  Godhead  of  the  First  Cause,  tho' 
they  cannot  attain  to  an  adequate  idea  of  the 
Deity,  yet  discover  so  much  of  him,  as  enables 
them  to  see  the  End  of  their  Creation,  and  the 
Means  of  their  Happiness:  whereas  they  who 
take  this  high  Priori  Road  (such  as  Hobbes, 
Spinoza,  Des  Cartes,  and  some  better  Reason- 
ers)  for  one  that  goes  right,  ten  lose  themselves 
in  Mists,  or  ramble  after  Visions,  which  deprive 
them  of  all  sight  of  their  End,  and  mislead  them 
in  the  choice  of  wrong  means.  P.  and  War- 
burton. 

An  oblique  censure  of  Dr.  S.  Clarke's  cele- 
brated demonstration  of  the  Being  and  Attri- 
butes of  God  k  priori.      Wakefield. 

'  Make  Nature  still]  This  relates  to  such  as, 
being  ashamed  to  assert  a  mere  Mechanic  Cause, 
and  yet  unwilling  to  forsake  it  entirely,  have  had 
recourse  to  a  certain  Plastic  Nature,  Elastic 
Fluid,  Subtile  Matter,  dp^c.  P.  and  War- 
burton. 

*  Thrust  some  Mechanic   Cause    into   his 
place. 
Or  bind  in  Matter,  or  diffuse  in  Space.] 


The  first  of  these  Follies  is  that  of  Des  Cartas; 
the  second  of  Hobbes ;  the  third  of  some  succeed- 
ing Philosophers.  P.  and  Warburton.  I  am 
afraid  that  Pope  suffered  himself  so  far  to  be 
misled  by  the  malignity  of  Warburton,  as  to  aim 
a  secret  stab  at  Newton  and  Clarke,  by  associat- 
ing their  figurative,  and  not  altogether  unexcep- 
tionable, language  concerning  space  (which  they 
called  the  sensorium  of  the  Deity)  with  the 
opinion  of  Spinoza.  Dugald  Stewart,  cited 
by  Roscoe. 

*  Such  as  Lucretius  drew ^  Lib.  i.  vv.  i.  57- 
60.     ScRiBL.     V .  and  Warburton  [partem.]. 

5  Or  that  bright  Image]  Bright  Image  was 
the  title  given  by  the  later  Platonists  to  that 
Vision  of  Nature,  which  they  had  formed  out 
of  their  own  fancy,  so  bright,  that  they  called 
it  Kvro-nrov  "Aya^fxa,  or  the  Self-seen  Image, 
i.e.  seen  by  its  own  light.     Scribl. 

c  [Explained  in  P.  and  Warburton's  note  by 
quotations  from  The  Moralists,  a  dialogue  in 
Shaftesbury's  Characteristics ,  in  which  Theo- 
cles is  an  interlocutor.  Warton  truly  observes 
that  an  injustice  is  done  by  the  insinuation  to 
Shaftesbury,  who  was  a  consistent  Deist.] 


430  THE  DUNCIAD, 

Or  wanders  wild  in  Academic  Groves ;  490 

That  Nature  our  Society  adores,^ 

Where  Tindal  dictates,  and  Silenus  ^  snores." 
RousM  at  his  name,  up  rose  the  bousy  Sire, 

And  shook  from  out  his  Pipe  the  seeds  of  fire ;  * 

Then  snapt  his  box,  and  strok'd  his  belly  down :  495 

Rosy  and  rev'rend,  tho'  without  a  Gown. 

Bland  and  familiar  to  the  throne  he  came, 

Led  up  the  Youth,  and  calPd  the-  Goddess  Dame: 
\  Then  thus  :  "  From  Priest-craft  happily  set  free, 
\  Lo!  ev'ry  finished  Son  returns  to  thee  :  500 

\First  slave  to  Words,  then  vassal  to  a  Name, 
JThen  dupe  to  Party ;  child  and  man  the  same ; 
[Bounded  by  Nature,  narrow'd  still  by  Art, 
'a  trifling  head,  and  a  contracted  heart. 

Thus  bred,  thus  taught,  how  many  have  I  seen,  505 

Smiling  on  all,  and  smiPd  on  by  a  Queen?  ^ 
vy  Mark'd  out  for  Honours,  honour'd  for  their  Birth, 

V  X  -  To  thee  the  most  rebellious  things  on  earth  : 

/  Now  to  thy  gentle  shadow  all  are  shrunk, 
j  All  melted  down,  in  Pension,  or  in  Punk!  510 

So  K  *  so  B  *  *  sneak'd  into  the  grave,^ 

A  Monarch's  half,  and  half  a  Harlot's  slave. 

Poor  W  *  *  ^  nipt  in  Folly's  broadest  bloom, 

Who  praises  now?  his  Chaplain  on  his  Tomb. 

Then  take  them  all,  oh  take  them  to  thy  breast!  515 

Thy  Magus,  Goddess!  shall  perform  the  rest." 
With  that,  a  Wizard  old  his  Oip  extends ; 

Which  whoso  tastes,  forgets  his  former  friends, 

Sire,  Ancestors,  Himself.     One  casts  his  eyes 

Up  to  a  Star,  and  like  Endymion  dies  :  "^  520 

A  Feather,  shooting  from  another's  head. 

Extracts  his  brain ;  and  Principle  is  fled ; 

Lost  is  his  God,  his  Country,  ev'ry  thing ; 

And  nothing  left  but  Homage  to  a  King!  ^ 

"^  That  Nature  our  Society  adores^']  St^  the         6  [Carj-uthers  conjectures  that  K*  may  be 

Pantheisticon^  with  its  liturgy  and  rubrics,  com-  the  Duke  of  Kent,  who  died  in  1740.     B**  it  is 

posed  by  Toland.     Warburton.  impossible,  from  the  abundant  choice   offering 

2  Silenus]  Silenus  was  an  Epicurean  Philoso-  itself,  even  conjecturally  to  identify.] 

pher,  as  appears  from  Virgil,  Eclog.  vi.  where  ^  Philip   Duke   of  Wharton.      Bowles,      [v. 

he  sings  the  principles  of  that  Philosophy  in  his  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  i.  vv.  179  ff.j 

drink.     P.   and    Warburton.     By  Silenus   he  '  [i.e.  is  immersed  in  perpetual  slumber.] 

means  Thos.  Gordon,  the  translator  of  Tacitus,  *  Lost  is  his  God,  his  Country  —  And  noth- 

who  published  the  Independent  Whig,  and  ob-  ingleft  but  Homage  to  a  king.]     So  strange  as 

tained  a  place  under  government.     Warton.  this  must  seem  to  a  mere  English  reader,  the 

3  seeds  of  fire  /]     The  Epicurean  language,  famous  Mons.  de  la  Bruyere  declares  it  to  be 
Setnina  rerum,  or  Atoms,  Virg.  Eclog.  vi.  the  character  of  every  good  Subject  in  a  Mon- 

*  Semina  ignis  —  semina  flammae  — '     P.  archy:    "Where  (says   he)  there   is   no  such 

*  smiVd  on  by  a  Queen  /*]     i.e.  This  Queen  thing  as  Love  of  our  Country,  the  Interest, 

or  Goddess  of  Dulness.    P.     [Of  course  with  an  the  Glory,  and  Service  of  the  Prince  supply 

allusion  to  Queen  Caroline.]  its  place."    De  la  Ripublique,  chap.  x.    P. 


THE  DUNCIAD,  431 

The  vulgar  herd  turn  off  to  roll  with  Hogs,  525 

To  run  with  Horses,  or  to  hunt  with  Dogs ; 
But,  sad  example!  never  to  escape 
Their  Infamy,  still  keep  the  human  shape. 
I  But  she,  good  Goddess,  sent  to  ev'ry  child 
IFirm  Impudence,  or  Stupefaction  mild;  530 

/And  straight  succeeded,  leaving  shame  no  room, 
1  Cibberian  forehead,  or  Cimmerian  gloom. 

Kind  Self-conceit  to  some  her  glass  applies,  . 
Which  no  one  looks  in  with  another's  eyes : 
But  as  the  Flatt'rer  or  Dependant  paint,  535 

Beholds  himself  a  Patriot,  Chief,  or  Saint. 

On  others'  Interest  her  gay  livVy  flings, 
P^'"     Infrest  that  waves  on  Party-colour'd  wings: 
Turn'd  to  the  Sun,  she  casts  a  thousand  dyes, 
And,  as  she  turns,  the  colours  fall  or  rise.  540 

Others  the  Syren  Sisters  warble  round. 
And  empty  heads  console  with  empty  sound. 
No  more,  alas!  the  voice  of  Fame  they  hear. 
The  balm  of  Dulness  trickling  in  their  ear.^ 
Create**,  H**,P**,R**,K*,  545 

Why  all  your  Toils  ?  your  Sons  have  learn'd  to  sing. 
How  quick  Ambition  hastes  to  ridicule! 
The  Sire  is  made  a  Peer,  the  Son  a  Fool. 

On  some,  a  Priest  succinct  in  amice  white  ^ 
Attends ;  all  flesh  is  nothing  in  his  sight  I  550 

Beeves,  at  his  touch,  at  once  to  jelly  turn. 
And  the  huge  Boar  is  shrunk  into  an  Urn : 
The  board  with  specious  miracles  he  loads,^ 
Turns  Hares  to  Larks,  and  Pigeons  into  Toads. 
Another  (for  in  all  what  one  can  shine?)  555 

Explains  the  S^ve  and  Verdeur  ^  of  the  Vine. 
What  cannot  copious  Sacrifice  atone? 
Thy  Truffles,  Perigord!  thy  Hams,  Bayonne! 
With  French  Libation,  and  Italian  Strain, 
Wash  Bladen  white,  and  expiate  Hays's  stain.^  560 

1  The  halm  of  Dulness]     The  true  Balm  of  2  \^amice  (amictus),  a  coat,  is  a  word  used  by 

Dulness^  called  by  the  Greek  Physicians  KoAa-  Spenser  and  Milton.] 

Keia,  is  a  Sovereign  remedy  against  Inanity,  and  3  This  good  Scholiast  (Scriblerus) ,  not  being 

has  its  poetic  name  from  the  Goddess  herself,  acquainted  with  modern  Luxury,  was  ignorant 

Its  ancient  Dispensators  were  her  Poets ;  and  that  these  were  only  the   miracles  of  French 

for  that  reason  our  Author,  Book  11.  ver.  207,  Cookery,  and  that  particularly  Pigeons  en  cra- 

C2A\s\X.,  the  Poefs  healing  balm  :  but  now  it  is  peau  were  a  common   dish.     P.   and    War- 

got  into  as  many  hands  as  Goddard's  Drops  or  burton. 

Daffy's  Elixir.     It  is  prepared  by  the  Clergy,  *  Seve  a«rf  Verdeur]     French  Terms  relating 

as  appears  from  several  places  of  this  poem :  And  to  Wines,  which  signify  their  flavour  and  poig- 

by  ver.  534,  535,  it  seems  as  if  the  Nobility  had  nancy.     P. 

it  made  up  in  their  own  houses.     This,  which  ^  Bladen  — Hays]  Names  of  Gamesters.  Bla- 

Opera  is  here  said  to  administer,  is  but  a  spuri-  den  is  a  black  man.     Robert  Knight,  Cashier 

ous  sort.     See  my  Dissertation  on  the  Siipkium  of  the  South-sea  Company,  who  fled  from  Eng- 

of  the  A ntients.    *  Bentl.*     Warburton.  land  in  1720  (afterwards  pardoned  in  174a)  — 


432  THE  DUNCIAD. 

\  Knight  lifts  the  head,  for  what  are  crowds  undone^ 

To  three  essential  Partridges  in  one? 
.  Gone  ev'ry  blush,  and  silent  all  reproach, 
V*  I  Contending  Princes  mount  them  in  their  Coach. 

Next,  bidding  all  draw  near  on  bended  knees,  565 

The  Queen  confers  her  Titles  and  Degrees. 
j  Her  children  first  of  more  distinguished  sort, 
fWho  study  Shakespeare  at  the  Inns  of  Court,* 
i  Impale  a  Glow-worm,  or  Vertii  profess, 
;  Shine  in  the  dignity  of  F.R.S.2  570 

Some,  deep  Free-Masons,  join  the  silent  race 

Worthy  to  fill  Pythagoras's  place : 

Some  Botanists,  or  Florists  at  the  least, 

Or  issue  Members  of  an  Annual  feast. 

Nor  past  the  meanest  unregarded,  one  575 

Rose  a  Gregorian,  one  a  Gormogon.^ 
/The  last,  not  least  in  honour  or  applause, 
'  Isis  and  Cam  made  Doctors  of  her  Laws.* 
'     Then,  blessing  all,  "  Go,  Children  of  my  care! 

To  Practice  now  from  Theory  repair.  580 

All  my  commands  are  easy,  short,  and  full: 

My  Sons!  be  proud,  be  selfish,  and  be  dull. 

Guard  my  Prerogative,  assert  my  Throne : 

This  Nod  confirms  each  Privilege  your  own.^ 

The  Cap  and  Switch  be  sacred  to  his  Grace ;  585 

With  Staff  and  Pumps  the  Marquis  lead  the  Race ; 

From  Stage  to  Stage  the  licensed  Earl  may  run, 

Pair'd  with  his  Fellow-Charioteer  the  Sun ; 

The  learned  Baron  Butterflies  design, 

These  lived  with   the  utmost  magnificence  at  nal  abuse.    Scribl.    [Part  ont^   P.   This  attack 

Paris,  and  kept  open  Tables  frequented  by  per-  on  Mr.  Edwards  is  not  of  weight  sufficient  to 

sons  of  the  first  Quality  of  England,  and  even  weaken  the  effects  of  his  excellent  Canons  of 

by  Princes  of  the  Blood  of  France.     P.   and  Criticism.     Warton. 

Warburton.      Colonel   Martin   Bladen  was   a         ^  ^  line  taken  from  Bramston*Sil/i?«^71aj/^. 

man  of  some  literature  and  translated  Caesar's  Warton. 

Commentaries.     I  never  could  learn  that  he         ^  a  Gregorian,  one  a  Gormog'on.']    A  sort  of 

had  offended  Pope.     He  was  uncle  to  Wm.  Col-  Lay-brothers,  Slz^s  from  the  Root  of  the  Free- 

lins,  the  poet,  whom  he  left  an  estate.      Warton.  Masons.    V.  and  Warburton.    \^  Gregorians' 

'  Her  Children  first  of  more  distinguished  are  mentioned  as  *  a  convivial  sect,'  and  *  a  kind 

sort,  Who  study  Shakespeare  at  the  Inns  of  of  Masons,  but  without  their  sign,*  in  Crabbe's 

Cotirt.A^    Mr.  Thomas  Edwards,  a  Gentleman,  Borough,  Letter  x.] 

as  he  is  pleased  to  call  himself,  of  Zz'«c<7/«'.y /««/         *  Pope   refused  this  degree  when  offered  to 

but,  in  reality,  a  Gentleman  only  of  the  Dunciad;  him  on  a  visit  undertaken  to  Oxford  with  War- 

or,  to  speak  him  better,  in  the  plain  language  of  burton,  because  the  University  would  not  confer 

our  honest  Ancestors  to  such  Mushrooms,  A  the  degree  of  D.D.  upon  Warburton,  to  whom 

Gentlevtan  of  the  last  Edition:   who,  nobly  some  of  its  members  had  proposed  it.     Roscoe. 
eluding  the   solicitude   of   his  careful    Father,         ^  eachVx'wW&^t.  your  own,  &'c.^^  This  speech 

very  early  retained  himself  in  the  cause  of  Dul-  of  Dulness  to  her  Sons  at  parting  may  possibly 

ness  against  Shakespear,  and  with  the  wit  and  fall  short  of  the  Reader's  expectation;  who  may 

learning  of  his  Ancestor  Tom  Thimble  in  the  imagine  the  Goddess  might  give  them  a  charge 

Rehearsal,  and  with  the  air  of  good  nature  and  of  more  consequence,  and,  from  such  a  Theory  as 

politeness  of  Caliban  in  the  Tempest,  hath  now  is  before  delivered,  incite  them  to  the  practice  of 

happily  finished  the  Dunce* s  progress  in  perso-  something  more  extraordinary,  than  to  personate 


THE  DUNCIAD.  433 

Or  draw  to  silk  Arachne's  subtile  line ;  ^  590 

The  Judge  to  dance  his  brother  Sergeant  call ;  ^ 
The  Senator  at  Cricket  urge  the  Ball ; 
The  Bishop  stow  (Pontific  Luxury!) 
Ai^undred  Souls  of  Turkeys  in  a  pie ; 

Th*sturdy  Squire  to  Gallic  masters  stoop,  595 

And  drown  his  Lands  and  Manors  in  a  Soupe. 
Others  import  yet  nobler  arts  from  France, 
Teach  Kings  to  fiddle,^  and  make  Senates  dance. 
Perhaps  more  high  some  daring  son  may  soar, 
Proud  to  my  list  to  add  one  Monarch  more!  600 

And  nobly  conscious,  Princes  are  but  things 
Born  for  First  Ministers,  as  Slaves  for  Kings, 
Tyrant  supreme!  shall  three  Estates  command. 
And  MAKE  ONE  Mighty  Dunciad  of  the  Land!" 
^      More  she  had  spoke,  but  yawnM  —  All  Nature  nods :         605 
What  Mortal  can  resist  the  Yawn  of  Gods?* 
Churches  and  Chapels  instantly  it  reach'd ; 

(St.  James's  first,  for  leaden  G preached)  ^ 

Then  catch'd  the  Schools ;  the  Hall  scarce  kept  awake; 

The  Convocation  gap'd,  but  could  not  speak :  610 

Lost  was  the  Nation^s  Sense,  nor  could  be  found, 

While  the  long  solemn  Unison  went  round : 

Wide,  and  more  wide,  it  spread  o'er  all  the  realm; 

Ev'n  Palinurus  nodded  at  the  Helm  :  ^ 

The  Vapour  mild  o'er  each  Committee  crept ;  615 

Unfinish'd  Treaties  in  each  Office  slept ;         '  . 

And  Chiefless  Armies  doz'd  out  the  Campaign ; 

Running-Footmen,  Jockeys,  Stage  Coachmen,  ander,  Nero;  tho' despised  by  Themistocles,  who 

&c.  was  a  Republican  —  Make  Senates  dance,  either 

But  if  it  be  well  considered,  that  whatever  after  their  Prince,  or  to  Pontoise,  or  Siberia.    P. 

inclination  they  might  have  to  do  mischief,  her  and   Warbtirton.     [The  Parliament  of  Paris 

sons  are  generally  rendered  harmless  by  their  was  in  1720  relegated  en   masse  to  Pontoise, 

Inability;    and  that  it  is  the  common  effect  of  for  having  resisted  the  last  desperate  financial 

Dulness  (even  in  her  greatest  efforts)  to  defeat  measures  of  Law,  the  author  of  the  Mississippi 

her  own  design ;  the  Poet,  I  am  persuaded,  will  scheme,   and    then    director  of   the    Bank    of 

be  justified,  and   it  will  be  allowed  that  these  France.] 

worthy  persons,  in  their  several   ranks,  do  as         *  What  Mortal  can  resist  the    Yawn  of 

much  as  can  be  expected  from  them.     P.  and  Gods  ?'\     This  verse  is  truly  Homerical ;    as  is 

Warburton.  the  conclusion  of  the  Action,  where  the  great 

^  A  rachne's  subtile  line  ;'\    This  is  one  of  the  Mother  composes  all,  in  the  same  manner  as 

most  ingenious  employments  assigned,  and  there-  Minerva  at  the  period  of   the  Odyssey.      P. 

fore  recommended  only  to  Peers  of  Learning.  [Part  om.'\ 

Of  weaving  Stockings  of  the  Webs  of  Spiders,         ^  Dr.  Gilbert  Archbishop  of  York,  who  had 

see  the  Philosophical  Transactions.    P.  and  attacked  Dr.  King  of  Oxford  whom  Pope  much 

Warburton.  respected.      Warton.      [^Bowles  was  informed 

2  The  Judge  to  dance  his  brother  Sergeant  that  this  prelate  was  a  most  eloquent  preacher.] 
call;]     Alluding  perhaps  to  that  ancient  and         ^  Young's  ^'a^.  vii.  v.  215: 

solemn  Dance,  intituled,  A  Call  of  Sergeants,  *  What  felt  thy  Walpole,  pilot  of  the  realm? 

P.  and  Warbtirton.  Our  Palinurus  slept  not  at  the  helm.  —  * 

3  Teach  Kings  to  fiddle]    An  ancient  amuse-  Wakefield. 
ment  of  Sovereign  Princes,  (viz.)  Achilles,  Alex- 

2F 


434  THE  DUNCIAD, 

And  Navies  yawn'd  for  Orders  on  the  Main.^ 

\0  Muse!  relate  (for  you  can  tell  alone, 
Wits  have  short  Memories,'^  and  Dunces  none),  620 

Relate,  who  first,  who  last  resign^  to  rest ; 
Whose  Heads  she  partly,  whose  completely,  blest ; 
What  Charms  could  Faction,  what  Ambition  lull, 
The  Venal  quiet,  and  entrance  the  Dull ; 

'Till  drown'd  was  Sense,  and  Shame,  and  Right,  and  Wrong  — 
O  sing,  and  hush  the  Nations  with  thy  Song!  626 

In  vain,  in  vain  —  the  all-composing  Hour 
Resistless  falls  :  the  Muse  obeys  the  PowV. 
She  comes  !  she  comes!  the  sable  Throne  behold  • 
Oi Night  primaeval  and  of  Chaos  old!  630 

Before  her,  Fancfs  gilded  clouds  decay. 
And  all  its  varying  Rain-bows  die  away. 
Wit  shoots  in  vain  its  momentary  fires. 
The  meteor  drops,  and  in  a  flash  expires. 

As  one  by  one,  at  dread  Medea's  strain,*  635 

The  sick'ning  stars  fade  off  th'  ethereal  plain,* 
As  Argus'  eyes  by  Hermes'  wand  opprest, 
Clos'd  one  by  one  to  everlasting  rest ; 
]  Thus  at  her  felt  approach,  and  secret  might, 
Art  after  Art  goes  out,  and  all  is  Night.-  640 

See  skulking  Truth  to  her  old  cavern  fled,^ 
Mountains  of  Casuistry  heap'd  o'er  her  head! 
Philosophy^  that  lean'd  on  Heav'n  before,^ 
Shrinks  to  her  second  cause,  and  is  no  more. 
Physic  of  Metaphysic  begs  defence,  645 

And  Metaphysic  calls  for  aid  on  Sense  I 
See  Mystery  to  Mathematics  fly ! 
In  vain!  they  gaze,  turn  giddy,  rave,  and  die. 
Religion  blushing  veils  her  sacred  fires. 
And  unawares  Morality  expires.  650 

*  These  verses  were  written  many  years  ago,  of  other  prophets,  hath  used  the  future  tense  for 

and  may  be  found  in  the  State  Poems  of  that  the  preterite:  since  what  he  says  shall  be,  is  al- 

time.     P.  and  Warburton.     V.  6i6  is  from  a  ready  to  be  seen,  in  the  writings  of  some  even 

poem  by  Halifax.     Wakefield.  of  our  most  adored  authors,  in  Divinity,  Philos- 

2  Wits  have  short  Memories^     This  seems  ophy,  Physics,  Metaphysics,  &c.  who  are  too 

to  be  the  reason  why  the  Poets,  whenever  they  good  indeed  to  be  named  in  such  company.     P. 
give  us  a  Catalogue,  constantly  call  for  help  on         *  [Cf.  Ov.  Met.  vii.  v.  209.] 
the  Muses,  who,  as  the  Daughters  of  Memory,         ^  Truth  to  her  old  Cavern fied,]     Alluding 

are  obliged  not  to  forget  any  thing.     So  Homer,  to  the  saying  of  Democritus,  That  Truth  lay  at 

Ilt'ad  II.  vv.  788  fF.     And  Virgil,  ^n.  vii.  [vv.  the  bottom  of  a  deep  well,  from  whence  he  had 

645-6].     ScRiBL.     P.  drawn  her:    Though  Butler  says,  He  first  put 

^  She  comes  /  she  cotnes  /  &*£•.]     Here  the  her  in,  before  he  drew  her  out.     Warburton. 
Muse,  like  Jove's  Eagle,  after  a  sudden  stoop         '^  Ver.  643,  in  the  former  Edd.  stood  thus, 

at   ignoble   game,  soareth    again   to   the   skies.  Philosophy,  that  reach' d  the  Heavns  before. 

As  Prophecy  hath  ever  been  one  of  the  chief  Shrinks  to  her  hidden  cause,  and  is  no  more, 

provinces  of  Poesy,  our  Poet  here  foretells  from  And  this  was  intended  as  a  censure  of  the  New- 

what  we  feel,  what  we  are  to  fear;  and,  in  the  style  Ionian  philosophy.     Warburton. 


IMITATIONS, 


435 


For  ptiblic  Flame,  nor  private^  dares  to  shine ; 
Nor  human  Spark  is  left,  nor  Glimpse  divine  I 
Lo!  thy  dread  Empire,  Chaos!  is  restored; 
Light  dies  before  thy  uncreating  word ; 
Thy  hand,  great  Anarch !  lets  the  curtain  fall, 
And  universal  Darkness  buries  All. 


655 


IMITATIONS. 


Book  I. 
Ver.  I.  Say  y  great  Patricians  !  since  your- 
selves inspire  These  wondrous  works'^ 
*  Dii  coeptis  (nam  vos  mutastis  et  illas).' 

Ovid,  Met.  i.  [v.  2.] 

Ver.  6.  Alluding  to  a  verse  of  Mr.  Dryden, 
not  in  MacFleckno  (as  is  said  ignorantly  in  the 
ICey  to  the  Dunciad,  p.  i),  but  in  his  verses  to 
Mr.  Congreve, 

*  And  Tom  the  second  reigns  like  Tom  the  first.' 

[Epistle  XII.  V.  48.] 

Ver.  41,  42.  Hence  hymning  Tyburn's  — 
Hence,  i^c.] 

'  Genus  unde  Latinum, 
Albanique  patres,  atque  altae  moenia  Romae.* 
Virg.  yS«.  I.  [vv.  6,  7.] 

Ver.  45.   In  clouded  Majesty'] 
'  the  Moon 
Rising  in  clouded  Majesty.* 
Milton  [Par.  Lost],  Book  iv.  [vv.  606,  7.] 

Ver.  48.  — that  knows  no  /ears  Of  hisses, 
blows,  or  watit,  or  loss  of  ears  .*] 

*  Quern  neque  pauperies,  neque  mors,  neque  vin- 

cula  terrent.' 

Hor.  [Lib.  11.  Sat.  vii.  v.  84.] 
Ver.  55.    Here  she  beholds  the  Chaos  dark 
and  deep.  Where  nameless  Somethings,  ^'c] 
That  is  to  say,  unformed  things,  which  are  either 
made  into  Poems  or  Plays,  as  the  Booksellers  or 
the  Players  bid  most.     These  lines  allude  to  the 
following  in  Garth's  Dispensary,  Cant.  vi. 
*  Within  the  chambers  of  the  globe  they  spy 
The  beds  where  sleeping  vegetables  lie, 
'Till  the  glad  summons  of  a  genial  ray 
Unbinds  the  glebe,  and  calls  them  out  to  day.* 

Ver.  64.  And  ductile  Dulness,  d^'c]  A 
parody  on  a  verse  in  Garth,  Cant.  i. 

*  How  ductile  matter  new  meanders  takes.' 

Ver.  79.  The  cloud-compelling  Queen]  From 
Homer's  Epithet  of  Jupiter,  j'ec^eArjyepeTa  Zeu?. 


Var.   He  rolled  his  eyes  that  witness* d  huge 
dismay. 

*  round  he  throws  his  [baleful]  eyes, 
That  witnessed  huge  affliction  and  dismay.' 

Milt.  [Par.  Lost],  Bk.  i.  [vv.  56,  7  ] 

The  progress  of  a  bad  poet  in  his  thoughts, 

being  (like  the  progress  of  the  Devil  in  Milton) 

through  a  Chaos,  might  probably  suggest  this 

imitation. 

Ver.  140  in  the  former  Edd.     The  page  ad- 
mires new  beauties  not  its  own.] 
'  Miraturque  novas  frondes  et  non  sua  poma.' 
Virg.  Geor.  11.  [v.  82.] 

Ver.    166.     IVith  whom   my  Muse    began, 
with  whom  shall  end.] 

*  A  te  principium,  tibi  desinet.'  — 

Virg.  Eel.  VIII.  [v.  II.] 
"Ek    Albs    apxiofJiecrda,    koI    elq    Aia    AijyeTe, 
Moucrat. 

Theoc.  [Id.  xvii.  v.  i.] 
*  Prima  dicte  mihi,  summa  dicende  Camoena.' 

Hor.  [Lib.  1.  Epist.  i.  v.  i.] 
Ver.  195.    Had  Heav'n  decreed,  Ss'c] 
*  Me  si  coelicolae  voluissent  ducere  vitam, 
Has  mihi  servassent  sedes.' 

Virg.  Mn.  ii.  [vv.  641,  2.] 

Ver.  197,  198.    Could  Troy  be  sav'd —  This 
grey -goose  weapon] 

'  Si  Pergama  dextra 
Defendi  possent,  etiam  hac  defensa  fuissent.* 
Virg.  ibid.  [vv.  291,  2.] 

Ver.  202.   This  Box  my  Thunder,  this  right 
hand  my  God.] 

'  Dextra  mihi    Deus,  et    telum  quod  missile 
libro.* 

Virgil,  of  the  Gods  of  Mezentius. 
[^n.  X.  V.  773.] 
Var.   And  visit  Alehouse,]  Waller  [to  the 
King]  on  his  Navy, 

'  Those  tow'rs  of  Oak  o'er  fertile  plains  might  go, 
And  visit  mountains  where  they  once  did  grow/ 


436 


IMITATIOIVS. 


Ver.  229.    Unstain'd^  uniouck'd,  6r'c.'] 
*  Felix  Priameia  virgo ! 
Jussa  mori:  quae  sortitus  non  pertulit  uUos, 
Nee  victoris  heri  tetigit  captiva  cubile ! 
Nos,  patria  incensa,  diversa  per  aequora  vectae, 
&c.' 

Virg.  ^n.  III.  [v.  320  ff.] 

Ver.  245.  And  thrice  he  lifted  high  the 
Birthday  brufid,]  Ovid,  of  Althaea  on  a  like 
occasion,  burning  her  offspring: 

*  Turn  conata  quater  flammis  imponere  torrem, 
Ccepta  quater  tenuit.' 

[Me tarn.  viii.  vv.  462,  3.] 

Ver.  250.   Noiv  flames  the  Cid,  &'c.'] 

'  Jam  Deiphobi  dedit  ampla  ruinam, 
Vulcano  superante  domus;  jam  proximus  ardet 
Ucalegon.'  —  ^n,  11.  [vv.  310-2.] 

Ver.  263.  Great  in  her  charms  /  as  when 
on  Shrieves  and  Mayors  She  looks  and 
breathes  herself  into  their  airs.] 

*  Alma  parens  confessa  Deam ;  qualisque  videri 
Coelicolis,  et  quanta  solet.' 

Virg.  y^n.  II.  [vv.  591,  2.] 

*  Et  laetos  oculis  afflavit  honores.' 

Id.  ^n.  I.  [v.  591.] 
Ver.  269.    This  the  Great  Mother ^  <57^c.] 

*  Urbs  antiqua  fuit 

Quam  Juno  fertur  terris  magis  omnibus  unam 
Posthabita  coluisse  Samo:  hie  illius  arma, 
Hie  currus  fuit :  hie  regnum  Dea  gentibus  esse 
(Si  qua  fata  sinant)  jam  tum  tenditque  fovetque.' 
Virg.  yEn.  i.  [vv.  12  ff.J 

Ver.  304.  The  creeping^  dirty y  courtly  Ivy 
join.] 

*  Quorum  Imagines  lambunt, 
Hederae  sequaces.' 

Pers.  [Prol.  vv.  5,  6.] 

Ver.  311.    Of  when  shall  rise  a  Monarch, 

<5r»r.]     Boileau,  Lutrin,  Chant,  ii.  [vv.  123,  4.] 

*H^las!   qu'est  devenu  ee  temps,  cet  heureux 

temps, 
Ou  les  Rois  s'honoraient  du  nom  de  Faindans : 
&c.' 

Book  II. 
Ver.  I.   High  on  a  gorgeous  seat]     Parody 
of  Milton  [Par.  Lost],  Book  11.  [vv.  i.  ff.] 

*  High  on  a  throne  of  royal  state,  that  far 
Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind, 
Or  where  the  gorgeous  East  with  richest  hand 
Show'rs  on  her  Kings  Barbaric  pearl  and  gold, 
Satan  exalted  sate.' 

Ver.  35.  A  Poet's  form  she  piac'd  before 
their  eyes,]  This  is  what  Juno  does  to  deceive 
Turnus,  ySn.  x.  [vv.  636-40.J 


'  Tum   Dea  nube   cava,  tenuem  sine  viribns 

um.bram. 
In  faeiem  i^neae  (visu  mirabile  monstrum!) 
Dardaniis  ornat  telis,  clypeumque  jubasque 
Divini  assimilat  capitis  — 

Dat  inania  verba, 
Dat  sine  m.ente  sonum..'' 

The  reader  will  observe  how  exactly  some  of 
these  verses  suit  with  their  allegorical  applica- 
tion here  to  a  Plagiary :  There  seems  to  me  a 
great  propriety  in  this  Episode,  where  such  an 
one  is  imagined  by  a  phantom  that  deludes  the 
grasp  of  the  expecting  Bookseller. 

Ver.  39.  But  such  a  bulk  as  no  twelve  bards 
could  raise ^ 

*  Vix  illud  lecti  bis  sex  [cervice  subirent,] 
Qualia  nunc  hominum  producit  corpora  tellus.' 

Virg.  Mn.  xii.  [vv.  899,  900.] 
Ver.  60.    So  take  the  hindmost.  Hell.] 

*  Occupet  extremum  scabies;    mihi  turpe  relin- 

qui  est.* 

Hor.  de  Arte  [v.  417]. 

Ver.  61,  &e.  Something  like  this  is  in  Homer, 
//.  X,  V.  220,  of  Diomed.  Two  different  man- 
ners of  the  same  author  in  his  similes  are  also 
imitated  in  the  two  following;  the  first,  of  the 
Bailiff,  is  short,  unadorned,  and  (as  the  Critics 
well  know)  from  familiar  life ;  the  second, 
of  the  Water-fowl,  more  extended,  picturesque, 
and  from  rural  life.  The  59th  verse  is  likewise 
a  literal  translation  of  one  in  Homer.^ 

Ver.  64,  65.  On  feet  and  wings,  and' flies, 
and  wades,  and  hops  ;  So  lab' ring  on^  with 
shoulders,  hands,  and  head,] 

*  So  eagerly  the  Fiend 
O'er  bog,  o'er  steep,  thro'  streight,  rough,  dense, 

or  rare, 
With  head,  hands,  wings,  or  feet  pursues  his 

way, 
And  swims,  or  sinks,  or  wades,  or  creeps,  or 

flies.' 

Milton  [Pdir.  Lost],  Book  11.  [v.  947  ff.] 

Ver.  67, 68.  With  arms  expanded,  Bernard 
rows  his  state,  And  left-legg'd  Jacob  seems  to 
emulate.]     Milton,  of  the  motion  of  the  Swan, 
*  rows 
His  state  with  oary  feet.' 

Par.  Lost  [Book  vii.]  v.  440. 
And  Dryden,  of  another's,  —  With  two  left  legs. 

Ver.  73.   Herefortun'd  Curl  to  slide  ;] 
'  Labitur  infelix,  caesis  ut  forte  juvencis 
Fusus    humum   viridesque    super    madefecerat 

herbas 
Concidit,  immundoque  fimo,  sacroque  eruore.' 
Virg.  y^n.  v.  of  Nisus  [v.  329  ff.] 


^  [After  a  diligent  search  I  am  disposed  to  doubt  this.   Perhaps  the  allusion  is  to  Iliad  xxiii.  v.  479.] 


IMITATIONS. 


437 


Ver.  74.  And  Bernard !  Bernard  f\ 
*  Ut  littus,  Hyla,  Hyla,  omne  sonaret.' 

Virg.  Eel.  VI.  [v.  44.] 

Ver.  83.  A  place  there  is,  betwixt  earth, 
air,  and  seas,\ 

*  Orbe  locus   medio    est,   inter    terrasque,   fre- 

tumque, 
Coelestcsque  plagas.* 

Ovid.  Met.  xii.  [xv.  39,  40.] 

Ver.  108.  JVor  heeds  the  brown  dishonours 
of  his  face. \ 

*  faciem  ostentabat,  et  udo 
Turpia  membra  fimo.' 

Virg.  y^n.  v.  [vv.  357,  8.] 

Ver.  III.   A  shapeless  shade,  &>c.'] 
*  Effugit  imago 
Par  levibus  ventis,  volucrique  simillima  somno.' 
Virg.  yS«.  VI.  [vv.  701,  2.] 

Ver.  114.  His  papers  light,  fly  diverse,  tost 
in  air;]    Virg.  y£"«.  vi.  of  the  Sibyl's  leaves, 

*  Carmina 

turbata  volent  rapidis  ludibria  ventis.' 

[vv.  74,  5.] 

Ver.  141,  142.  — piteous  of  his  case.  Yet 
smiling  at  his  rueful  length  of  face.] 

*  Risit  pater  optimus  illi.' 

*  Me  liceat  casum  misereri  insontis  amici  — 
Sic  fatus,  tergum  Gaetuli  immane  leonis,  &c. 

Virg.  ^11.  [v.  358;  vv.  350,  I.] 

Ver.  151,  Himself  a  m  ong  the  story' d  ch  iefs 
he  spies,] 

*  Se    quoque    principibus    permixtum    agnovit 

Achivis  — 
Constitit,  et  lacrymans:  Quis  jam  locus,  inquit, 

Achate ! 
Quae  regio  in  terris  nostri  non  plena  laboris?* 

Virg.  ^n.  I.  [v.  488;  vv.  459,  60.] 

Ver.  156.  A  nd  the  fresh  vomit  run  for  ever 
green  !]  A  parody  on  these  lines  of  a  late  noble 
author : 

*  His  bleeding  arm  had  fumish'd  all  their  rooms. 
And  run  for  ever  purple  in  the  looms.' 

Ver.  158.  Two  babes  of  love  close  clinging  to 
her  waist;] 

*  Cressa  genus,  Pholoe,  geminique  sub  ubere 

nati.'  Virg.  yS«.  v.  [v.  285.] 

Ver.  163.  yon  Juno  —  With  cow-like  udders, 
and  with  ox-like  eyes.]  In  allusion  to  Homer's 
BootTTi^  ir6TVLa''Hpr}. 

Ver.  165.    This  China  Jordan] 

*Tertius  Argolica  hac  galea  contentus  abito.' 

Virg.  y^«.  v.  [v.  314.] 

In  the  games  of  Homer,  //.  xxiii.  there  are 

set  together,  as  prizes,  a  Lady  and  a  Kettle,  as 


in  this  place  Mrs.  Ha3rwood  and  a  Jordan.  But 
there  the  preference  in  value  is  given  to  the 
Kettle,  at  which  Mad.  Dacier  is  justly  displeased. 
Mrs.  H.  is  here  treated  with  distinction,  and  ac- 
knowledged to  be  the  more  valuable  of  the  two. 

Ver.  169,  170.  One  on  his  manly  confidence 
relies.  One  on  his  vigour] 

*  lUc  —  melior  motu,  fretusque  juventa; 
Hie  membris  et  mole  valens.' 

Virg.  jEn.  V.  [vv.  430,  i.] 

Ver.  173,  174.  So  Jove's  bright  bow  .  .  . 
{Sure  sign]  The  words  of  Homer,  of  the  Rain- 
bow, in  Iliad  xi.  [vv.  27,  8.] 

*  as  T«  Kpoviwv 

'Ev  vi^e'i  (rrripi^e,  repas  ixepoirutv  avOpiairtav.* 

*  Que  le  fils  de  Saturn  a  fond^s  dans  les  niies, 
pour  etre  dans  tons  les  iges  une  signe  h  tous  les 
mortels.'  Dacier. 

Ver.  181,  182.  So  (fam'd  like  thee  for  tur- 
bulence and  horns)  Eridanus]  Virgil  men- 
tions these  two  qualifications  of  Eridanus, 

Georg.  IV.  [vv.  371-3.] 

*  Et  gemina  auratus  taurine  cornua  vultu, 
Eridanus,  quo  non  alius  per  pinguia  culta 

In  mare  purpureum  violentior  influit  amnis.' 

The  Poets  fabled  of  this  river  Eridanus,  that 
it  flowed  through  the  skies.  Denham,  Cooper's 
Hill  : 

*  Heav'n  her  Eridanus  no  more  shall  boast, 
Whose  fame  in  thine,  like  lesser  currents  lost; 
Thy  nobler  stream  shall  visit  Jove's  abodes. 
To  shine  among  the  stars,  and  bathe  the  Gods.* 

Ver.  223,  225.  To  move,  to  raise,  &'c.  Let 
others  aim:  '  T is  yours  to  shake,  <5r»c.] 

*  Excudent  alii  spirantia  moUius  sera. 

Credo  equidem,  vivos  ducent  de  marmore  vul- 
tus,  &c.' 

*  Tu  regere  imperio  populos,  Romane,  memento, 
Hae  tibi  erunt  artes '  — 

\_Mn.  VI.  vv.  847  if.;  vv.  851,  2.] 
Ver.  243.   A  Cat-call  each  shall  win,  &^c.] 

*  Non  nostrum  inter  vos  tantas  componere  lites, 
Et  vitula  tu  dignus,  et  hie' 

Virg.  Eel.  III.  [w.  108,  9.] 

Ver.  247.  As  when  the  tSr'^.]  A  Simile  with 
a  long  tail,  in  the  manner  of  Homer. 

Ver.  260.  bray  back  to  hint  again.]  A  fig- 
ure of  speech  taken  from  Virgil : 

*  Et  vox  assensu  nemorum  ingeminata  remugit.' 

Georg.  III.  [v.  45.] 
'  He  hears  his  numerous  herds  low  o'er  the 

plain, 
While  neighb'ring  hills  low  back  to  them  again.' 

Cowley. 
The  poet  here  celebrated,  Sir  R.  B.  delighted 


438 


IMITATIONS. 


much  in  the  word  bray^  which  he  endeavoured  to 
ennoble  by  applying  it  to  the  sound  o{  Armour, 
JVar,  &^c.  In  imitation  of  him,  and  strength- 
ened by  his  authority,  our  author  has  here  ad- 
mitted it  into  Heroic  poetry. 

Ver.  262.  Prick  all  their  ears  up,  and  for- 
get to  graze/] 

'  Immemor  herbarum  quos  est  mirata  juvenca.' 
Virg.  £cl.  VIII.  [v.  2.] 

The  progress  of  the  sound  from  place  to  place, 
and  the  scenery  here  of  the  bordering  regions, 
Tottenham-fields,  Chancery-lane,  the  Thames, 
Westminster-hall,  and  Hungerford-stairs,  are 
imitated  from  Virgil,  yEn.  vii.  on  the  sounding 
the  horn  of  Alecto : 

*  Audiit  et  Triviae  longe  lacus,  audiit  amnis 
Sulphurea   Nar   albus   aqua,  fontesque  Velini, 

&c.'  [v.  516  ff.] 

Ver.  273.    T/te  king  of  dykes,  dr'f.] 

*  Fluviorum  rex  Eridanus, 

—  quo  non  alius,  per  pinguia  culta, 

In  mare  purpureum  violentior  influit  amnis.' 

Virg.  [^Georg.  i.  v.  482;  iv.  vv.  372,  3.] 

Ver,  285.  Then  sighing  thus.  And  ant  I 
now  threescore  ?  b^c] 

*  —  Fletque  Milon  senior,  cum  spectat  inanes 
Herculeis  similes,  fluidos  pendere  lacertos.' 

Ovid  \Met.  xv.  229,  30]. 

Ver.  293.   and  call  on  Smedley  lost;  (Sr'r.] 

*  Alcides  wept  in  vain  for  Hylas  lost, 
Hylas,  in  vain,  resounds  thro'  all  the  coast.' 

Lord  Roscommon's  Translat.  of 
Virgil's  Eel.  vi. 

Ver.  302.   Not  everlasting  Blackmore] 

*  Nee   bonus   Eurytion  praelato   invidit  honori, 

&c.'  Virg.  Mn.  [vi.  v.  44.] 

Ver.  329.    Greater  he  looks,  and  more  than 
mortal  stares  ;]     Virg.  ^n.  vi.  of  the  Sibyl: 
'  majorque  videri, 
Nee  mortale  sonans.'  [vv.  49,  50.] 

Ver.  346.    Thence  to  the  banks,  <5r=r.] 

*  Turn  canit  errantem  Permessi  ad  flumina  Gal- 

ium, 
Utque  viro  Phoebi  chorus  assurrexerit  omnis; 
Ut  Linus  haec  illi  divino  carmine  pastor, 
Floribus  atque  apio  crines  ornatus  amaro, 
Dixerit,  Hos  tibi  dant  calamos,  en  accipe,  Musse, 
Ascraeo  quos  ante  seni  &c.' 

[Virg.  Eel.  VI.  vv.  64  ff.] 

Ver.  380,  381.  The  same  their  talents  .  .  . 
Each  prompt  &^c.] 

*  Ambo  florentes  aetatibus,  Arcades  ambo, 
Et  ccrtare  pares,  et  respondere  parati.' 

Virg.  Eel.  vii.  [vv.  4,  5.] 


Ver.  382.  A  nd  smit  with  love  of  Poetry  and 
Prate.] 

*  Smit  with  the  love  of  sacred  song.' 

Milton  [Par.  Lost,  Bk.  in.  v.  29.] 

Ver.  384.    The  heroes  sit,  the  vulgar  form 
a  ring;] 
*  Consedere  duces,  et  vulgi  stante  corona.' 

Ovid,  Met.  xiii.  [v.  i.] 

Ver.  410.   o'er  all  the  sea  of  heads.] 

*  A  waving  sea  of  heads  was  round  me  spread. 
And  still  fresh  streams  the  gazing  deluge  fed.' 

Blackm.  yob. 

Ver.  418.  And  all  was  hush'd,  as  Polly's 
self  lay  dead.]  Alludes  to  Dryden's  verse  in 
the  Indian  Emperor  [Act  iii.  Sc.  2.  v.  i] ; 

*  All  things  are  hush'd,  as  Nature's  self  lay 

dead.' 

Book  III. 

Ver.  7,  8.  Hence  from,  the  straw  where 
Bedlam's  Prophet  nods,  He  hears  loud  Ora^ 
eles,  and  talks  with  Gods  :] 

'  Et  varias  audit  voces,  fruiturque  deorum 
Colloquio.'  Virg.  y£'«.  vii.  [vv.  91,  2.] 

Ver.  15.   A  slipshod  Sibyl  S^'e.] 
'  Conclamat  Vates 

furens  antro  se  immisit  aperto.' 

Virg.  [^n.  VI.  vv.  259,  262.] 

Ver.  23.   Here,  in  a  dusky  vale  ^j'c.] 
*  Videt  iEneas  in  valle  reducta 
Seclusum  nemus  .  .  . 
Lethaeumque    domos    placidas    qui    prsenatat 

amnem,'  &c. 
Hunc  circum  innumerae  gentes,  &c.' 

Virg.  ACn.  vi.  [vv.  703  ff.] 

Ver.  24.  Old  Bavius  sits,  to  dip  poetic 
souls,]  Alluding  to  the  story  of  Thetis  dip- 
ping Achilles  to  render  him  impenetrable: 

*  At  pater  Anchises  penitus  convalle  virenti 
Inclusas  animas,  superumque  ad  lumen  ituras, 
Lustrabat.'  Virg.  yEn.  vi.  [vv.  679-81.] 

Ver.  28.  unbar  the  gates  of  Light,]  An 
Hemistic  of  Milton. 

Ver.  31,  32.  Millions  and  -millions —  Thick 
as  the  stars,  &=c.] 

'  Quam  multa  in  silvis  autumni  frigore  primo 
Lapsa  cadunt  folia,  aut  ad  terram  gurgite  ab  alto 
Quam  multae  glomerantur  aves,  &c.' 

Virg.  yEn.  vi.  [vv.  309  ff.] 

Ver.  54.  Mix'd  the  Owl's  ivy  with  the 
Poet's  bays,] 

*  sine  tempora  circum 
Inter  victrices  hedcram  tibi  serpere  lauros.' 

Virg.  Eel.  viii.  [vv.  12,  13.] 


IMITATIONS. 


439 


Ver.  6i,  62.  For  this  07ir  Queen  unfolds  to 
vision  true  Thy  mental  eye,  for  thou  hast 
much  to  view:]  This  has  a  resemblance  to 
that  passage  in  Milton  [Par.  Lost],  Book  xi. 
[vv.  411  ff.]  where  the  Angel 

*  To  nobler  sights  from  Adam's  eye  remov'd 
The  film; 

Then  purg'd  with  Euphrasie  and  Rue 
The  visual  nerve — for  he  had  much  to  see.* 

There  is  a  general  allusion  in  what  follows  to 
that  whole  Episode. 

Ver.  117, 118.  Happy  f  —  had  Easter  never 
been  /] 

*  Et  fortunatam,  si  nunquam  armenta  fuissent.' 

Virg.  Eel.  VI.  [v.  45.] 
Ver.  127,  129.   Now  look  thro*  Fate  !  —  See 
all  her  Progeny,  &r>c.'] 
'  Nunc  age,  Dardaniam  prolem  quae  deinde  sc- 

quatur 
Gloria,  qui  maneant  Itala  de  gente  nepotes, 
lUustres  animas,  nostrumque  in  nomen  ituras, 
Expediam.'  Virg.  y£"«.  vi.  [vv.  756  fT.] 

Ver.  131.   As  Berecynthia  <5r»c-.J 

*  Felix  prole  virum,  qualis  Berecynthia  mater 
Invehitur  curru  Phrygias  turrita  per  urbes, 
Laeta  deum  partu,  centum  complexa  nepotes, 
Omnes  coelicolas,  omnes  supera  alta  tenentes.* 

Virg.  Mn.  vi.  [vv.  784  ff.] 
Ver.  139.   Mark  first  that  Youth,  &'c.'\ 

*  Ille  vides,  pura  juvenis  qui  nititur  hasta, 
Proxima  forte  tenet  lucis  loca.' 

Virg.  jEn.  vi.  [vv.  760,  i.] 

Ver.  141.  With  all  thy  Father's  virtues 
blest,  be  born  !]  A  manner  of  expression  used 
by  Virgil,  Eel.  viii.  [v.  17.] 

*  Nascere !  praeque  diem  veniens,  age,  Lucifer.' 
As  also  that  of  patriis  virtutibus.  Eel.  iv. 
[v.  17.] 

It  was  very  natural  to  shew  to  the  Hero,  be- 
fore all  others,  his  own  Son,  who  had  already 
bfegun  to  emulate  him  in  his  theatrical,  poetical, 
and  even  political  capacities.  By  the  attitude 
in  which  he  here  presents  himself,  the  reader 
may  be  cautioned  against  ascribing  wholly  to 
the  Father  the  merit  of  the  epithet  Cibberian, 
which  is  equally  to  be  understood  with  an  eye 
to  the  Son. 

Ver.  145.  From  the  strong  fate  of  drams  if 
thou  get  free,'] 

'  si  qua  fata  aspera  rumpas, 
Tu  Marcellus  eris ! ' 

Virg.  ^n.  VI.  [vv.  882,  3.] 

Ver.  147.    Thee  shall  each  ale-house  b^c] 

*  Te  nemus  Anguitiae,  vitrea  te  Fucinus  unda, 
Tc  liquidi  flevere  lacus.' 

Virg.  j^n.  VIII.  [vv.  759,  60.] 


Virgil  again,  Eel.  x.  [v.  13.] 

*  Ilium  etiam  lauri,  ilium  flevere  myricae,  &c.* 

Ver.  150.  *  duo  fulmina  belli 

Scipiadas,  cladem  Libyae ! ' 

Virg.  yEn.  vi.  [vv.  842,  3.] 

Ver.  166.   And  mxikes  Night  hideous'] 

*  Visit  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon. 
Making  Night  hideous.* 

Shakesp.  [Hamlet,  Act  i.  So.  4.] 

Ver.  169.  Flow,  Welsted,fiow  !  &>€,]  Par- 
ody on  Denham,  Cooper's  Hill. 

*  O  could  I  flow  like  thee,  and  make  thy  stream 
My  great  example,  as  it  is  my  theme : 

Tho'  deep,  yet  clear;  tho'  gentle,  yet  not  dull; 
Strong  without  rage ;  without  o'erflowing,  full ! ' 

Ver.  177.  Embrace,  embrace,  my  sons  /  be 
foes  no  more  /] 

*  Ne  tanta  animis  assuescite  bella, 
Neu  patriae  validas  in  viscera  vertite  vires : 
Tuque  prior,  tu  parce  —  sanguis  mens !  * 

Virg.  ^n.  VI.  [v.  832  ff.] 

Ver.  179.  Behold  yon  Pair,  in  strict  em- 
braces join'  d ;] 

*  Illae  autem  paribus  quas  fulgere  cernis  in  armis, 
Concordes  animae.* 

Virg.  j^n.  VI.  [vv.  826,  7.] 
*  Euryalus,  forma  insignis  viridique  juventa, 
Nisus  amore  pio  pueri.' 

Virg.  JEn,  v.  [vv.  295,  6.] 

Ver.  185.  But  who  is  he,  <5r»<r.]  Virg.  Mn. 
VI.  [vv.  808  ff.]  questions  and  answers  in  this 
manner,  oi  Num.a: 

*  Quis  procul  ille  autem  ramis  insignis  olivae, 
Sacra  ferens?  —  nosco  crines,  incanaque  menta, 

&c.' 
Ver.  224.  Learn  ye  Dunces  !  not  to  scorn 
your  God.] 

*  Discite  justitiam  moniti,  et  non  temnere  divos.* 

Virg.  [Mn.  vi.  v.  620.] 

Ver.  244.   And  other  planets] 
*  solemque  suum,  sua  sidera  norunt.* 

Virg.  Mn.  vi.  [v.  641.] 
Ver.  246.    Whales  sport  in  woods,  and  dol- 
phins in  the  skies  ;] 

*  Delphinum  sylvis  appingit,  fluctibus  aprum.' 

Hor.  [de  Arte  Poet.  v.  30.] 
Ver.   251.    Son  ?  what  thou  seek'st  is  in 
thee  :] 

*  (Quod  petis  in  te  est) 

Ne  te  quaesiveris  extra.* 
Pers.  [Sat.  i.  v.  7.    The  first  part  of  this  seems 
to  be  loosely  quoted  from  Hor.  Lib.  i.  Epist.  xi. 
V.  29.] 

Ver.  256.  Wings  the  red  lightening,  d^^.] 
Like  Salmoneus  in  Mn.  vi.  [vv.  586,  590,  i.] 


440 


IMITATIONS, 


*Dum    flammas    Jovis,     et    sonitus     imitatur 
Olympi.' 

*  Nimbos,  et  non  imitabile  fulmen, 
^re  et  comipedum  cursu  simularat  equorum.' 

Ver.  258.  o'er  all  unclassi'c  ground:^  Al- 
ludes to  Mr.  Addison's  verse,  in  the  praises  of 
Italy: 

*  Poetic  fields  encompass  me  around, 

And  still  I  seem  to  tread  on  classic  ground.* 

\Letterfrom  Italy  to  Lord  Halifax.'\ 

As  V.  264  is  a  parody  on  a  noble  one  of  the 
same  author  in  The  Campaign ;  and  v.  259, 
260,  on  two  sublime  verses  of  Dr.  Y[oung]. 

Ver.  319,  320.  This,  this  is  he,  foretold  by 
ancient  rhymes,  Th'  Augustus,  ^'c.^ 

*  Hie  vir,  hie  est !    tibi  quem  promitti  ssepius 

audis, 
Augustus  Csesar,  divum  genus;  aurea  condet 
Secula  qui  rursus  Latio,  regnata  per  arva 
Saturno  quondam.' 

Virg.  yEn.  vi.  [vv.  791  ff.] 
Saturnian  here  relates  to  the  age  of  Lead, 
mentioned  book  i.  v.  26. 

Ver.  340.   And  thro'  the  Iv'ry  Gate,  &'c.'\ 
'  Sunt  geminae   Somni  portae ;    quarum   altera 

fertur 
Cornea,  qua  veris  facilis  datur  exitus  umbris 
Altera  candenti  perfecta  nitens  elephanto, 
Sed  falsa  ad  coelum  mittunt  insomnia  manes.* 

Virg.  yEn.  vi.  [vv.  893  flf.] 

Book  IV. 

Ver.  54.    yoy  to  great  Chaos  /] 

*  Joy  to  great  Caesar.' 
The  beginning  of  a  famous  old  Song. 

Ver.  126.    Admire  new  light  <5r*c.] 

*  The  Soul's  dark  cottage,  batter'd  and  decay'd. 
Lets  in  new  light,  through  chinks  that  time  has 

made.' 

Waller.     [Lines  On  his  Divine  Poems!\ 

Ver.   142.    Dropping  with  infant's  blood, 

*  First   Moloch,  horrid    King,  besmear'd  with 

blood 
Of  human  Sacrifice,  and  parents*  tears.' 

Milton  \_Par.  Lost,  i.  vv.  392,  3], 

Ver.  207.    He,  kingly,  did  but  nod  ;'\ 

*  He,  kingly,  from  his  State 
Declin'd  not.* 

Milton  [Par.  Lost,  xi.  vv.  249,  50]. 

Ver.  210.   is  Aristarchus  yet  unknown  ?'\ 

*  Sic  notus  Ulysses  ? ' 

Virg.  \Mn.  11.  v.  44.] 
*  Dost  thou  not  feel  me,  Rome  ? ' 
Ben.  Jonson  [first  verse  of  Catiline\. 


Ver.  215.   Roman  and  Greek  QixzxciXtiaxi3iX\%, 
S^c^     Imitated  from  Propertius  speaking  cf  th? 
uEneid.     [Lib.  11.  Eleg.  xxv.  vv.  C5,  6.] 
*  Cedite,  Romani  scriptores,  cedite  Graii I 
Nescio  quid  maj'us  nascitur  Iliade.' 

Ver.  284.  A  dauntless  infant  never  scared 
with  God.'\ 

*  sine  Dis  animosus  Infans.* 

Hor.  {Lib.  in.  Od.  iv.  v.  20.] 

Ver.  332.    So  may  the  sons  of  sons  &*c.'\ 
'  Et  nati  natorum,  et  qui  nascentur  ab  illis.' 
Virg.  [yEn.'ui.  v.  98.] 

Ver.  342.  Stretch' don  the  rack  And  hear4 

*  Sedet,  ceternumque  sedebit, 
Infelix     Theseus,     Phlegyasque     tniserrimus 

omnes 
Admonet.'  Virg.  [yS«.  vi.  v.  617  ff.] 

Ver.  355.  grant  me  still  to  cheat  /  O  may 
thy  cloud  still  cover  the  deceit .'] 
*  Pulchra  Laverna, 
Da  mihi  fallere  .  .  . 
Noctem  peccatis  et  fraudibus  objice  nubem.' 

Hor.  [Lib.  i.  Epist.  xvi.  vv.  60-2.] 

Ver.  383.   Receiv'd  each  Demi-God,"] 

*  Emissumque  ima  de  sede  Typhoea  terrae 
Coelitibus  fecisse  mctum ;  cunctosque  dedisse, 
Terga  fugae :  donee  fessos  ^gyptia  tellus 
Ceperit.*  Ovid  [Metam.  v.  vv.  321  ff.], 

Ver.  405.  Fair  from,  its  humble  bed,  dr^c, 
nam'd  it  Caroline ! 

*  Each  Maid  cry'd,  charming/  and  each  Youth, 

divine  / 
Now  prostrate !  dead!  \>eho\6.  xhsX  Caroline  : 
No   Maid   cries,  charming!   and  no  Youth, 

divine  ! ' 
These  Verses  are  translated  from  Catullus, 
Epith.  [vv.  39  ff.] 

*  Ut  flos  in  septis  seeretus  nascitur  hortis, 
Quam  mulcent  aurae,  firmat  Sol,  educat  imber, 
Multi  ilium  pueri,  multae  optavere  puellae: 
Idem  quum  tenui  earptus  defloruit  ungui, 
Nulli  ilium  pueri,  nuUae  optavere  puellae,  &c.' 

Ver.  421.  Of  all  th"  enamel' d  race,]  The 
poet  seems  to  have  an  eye  to  Spenser,  Muiopot- 
mos.  [vv.  17,  18.] 

'  Of  all  the  race  of  silver-winged  Flies 
Which  do  possess  the  Empire  of  the  Air.* 

Ver.  427,  428.   It  fled,  I  follow' d,  <5r*<r.] 

'  I  started  back. 
It  started  back ;  but  pleas'd  I  soon  rcturn'd, 
Pleas'd  it  return'd  as  soon.' 

Milton  \,Par,  Lost,  iv.  vv.  402,  3.  j 


A  DECLARATTON-,  441 

Ver.  518.    Which  -whoso  tastes,  forgets  his  Ver.  637.   As  Argus'  eyes,  &*<:.] 

former  friends,  Sire^  <5r*c.]  *  Et    quamvis    sopor    est    oculorum    parte    rei 

*  AifTLK  ap'  et9  olvov^dKe  ^apfxaKOv,  ivOev  ceptus, 

iiTLvov  Parte  tamen  vigilat.' 

NrjTrer^e?  t'  axo^.6v  re,  KaKStv  eniKTjOov  *  Vidit  Cyllenius  omnes 

andvTuiv.*  Succubuisse  oculos,  &c.' 

Homer  of  the  Nepenthe,  Odyss.  iv.  [vv.  220,  i.]  Ovid.  Met.  i.  [vv.  685,  6;  713,  4.] 

Ver.  622.    Virg.  y£«.  XI.  664,   5.      IVar^ 
burton. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR 

A  DECLARATION. 

OT5§lEE!E"a^  rettatn  Haberdashers  of  Points  and  Particles,  being  fngtlfiatelJ 
bg  ti)e  Spirit  of  Pride,  anti  assumins  to  tijemselijes  tlje  name  of  Critics  anti  Restor- 
ers, Ijaije  taken  upon  tfjem  to  atiulterate  i\}t  common  anti  current  sense  of  our  Glori- 
ous Ancestors,  Poets  of  this  Realm,  {jg  clipping,  coining,  tiefacing  tlje  images, 
miiing  tljeir  oiun  base  allag,  or  otljeriuise  falsifging  tfje  same ;  bjl)icl)  tljeg  publisij, 
utter,  anti  senti  as  genuine:  Clje  saiti  ijabertfasljers  fjaijing  no  rtgljt  tijereto,  as 
neitljer  Ijeirs,  executors,  atiministrators,  assigns,  or  in  any  sort  related  to  sucij 
^oets,  to  all  or  ang  of  tljem :  Now,  We,  fjaijing  carefullg  reijiseti  tljis  our  Dun- 
ciad,  beginning  iwitij  tfje  bjortis  The  Mighty  Mother,  anti  entiing  bjitij  tlje  biortis 

buries  All,  containing  tfje  entire  sum  of  One  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty 

four  verses,  tieclare  eijerg  biorti,  figure,  i^tiiMiy  anti  comma  of  tljis  impression  to  be 
autljentic :  "^ntJ  tio  tfjerefore  strictlg  enjoin  anti  forbiti  ang  person  or  persons  iufjat* 
soeijer  to  erase,  reverse,  put  hti^ttxi  hooks,  or  bg  ang  otljer  means,  tiirectlg  or  intJi* 
rectlg,  cfjange  or  mangle  ang  of  tljcm*  And  i»e  tio  Ijerebg  earnestlg  eibort  all  our 
bretljren  to  follobj  this  our  example,  tobicfi  bje  b^artilg  iuislj  our  great  Jpretiecessors 
Ijati  l)eretofore  set,  as  a  remetig  anti  pretention  of  all  sucb  abuses.  Provided 
always,  tljat  not!)ing  in  tfjis  JBeclaration  sfjall  be  construct!  to  limit  tlje  lahjful  anti 
untioubteti  rigbt  of  eberg  subject  of  tljis  Eealm,  to  jutige,  censure,  or  contiemn,  in, 
tlje  iubole  or  in  part,  ang  i^oem  or  ?Poet  toljatsoeijer* 

Given  under  our  hand  at  London,  this  third  day  of  January,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  One  thousand,  seven  hundred,  thirty  and  two. 

Declarat'  cor'  me, 
John  Barber,  Mayor.  P. 


442 


LTST  OF  BOOKS,   PAPERS,  AND    VERSES, 


A   LIST   OF   BOOKS,   PAPERS,   AND   VERSES, 

In  which  our  Author  was  abused,  before  the  Publication  of  the  Dunciad;   with  the  true  Names 

of  the  Authors. 


REFLECTIONS  critical  and  satyrical  on  a 
late  Rhapsody,  called  an  Essay  on  Criti- 
cism. By  Mr.  Dennis,  printed  by  B.  Lintot, 
price  dd. 

A  New  Rehearsal,  or  Bays  the  younger;  con- 
taining an  Examen  of  Mr.  Rowe's  plays,  and  a 
word  or  two  on  Mr.  Pope's  Rape  of  the  Lock. 
Anon,  (by  Charles  Gildon)  printed  for  J.  Rob- 
erts, 1714,  price  \s. 

Homerides,  or  a  Letter  to  Mr.  Pope,  occa- 
sioned by  his  intended  translation  of  Homer. 
By  Sir  Iliad  Dogrel.  (Tho.  Burnet  and  G. 
Ducket,  Esquires),  printed  for  W.  Wilkins, 
17 1 5,  price  ^d. 

iEsop  at  the  Bear-garden;  a  vision,  in  imita- 
tion of  the  Temple  of  Fame.  By  Mr.  Preston. 
Sold  by  John  Morphew,  1715,  price  6^. 

The  Catholic  Poet,  or  Protestant  Barnaby's 
Sorrowful  Lamentation ;  a  Ballad  about  Homer's 
Iliad.  By  Mrs.  Centlivre,  and  others,  1715, 
price  \d. 

An  Epilogue  to  a  Puppet-shew  at  Bath,  con- 
cerning the  said  Iliad.  By  George  Ducket,  Esq. 
printed  by  E.  Curl. 

A  complete  Key  to  the  What  d'ye  call  it. 
Anon,  (by  Griffin,  a  player,  supervised  by  Mr, 
Th )  printed  by  J.  Roberts,  1715. 

A  true  Character  of  Mr.  P.  and  his  writings, 
in  a  letter  to  a  friend.  Anon.  (Dennis)  printed 
for  S.  Popping,  1716,  price  3^. 


The  Confederates,  a  Farce.  By  Joseph  Gay 
(J.  D.  Breval)  printed  for  R.  Burleigh,  1717^ 
price  \s. 

Remarks  upon  Mr.  Pope's  translation  of 
Homer;  with  two  letters  concerning  the  Wind- 
sor Forest,  and  the  Temple  of  Fame.  By  Mr. 
Dennis,  printed  for  E.  Curl,  1717,  price  i.y.  6^. 

Satyrs  on  the  translators  of  Homer,  Mr.  P. 
and  Mr.  T.  Anon.  (Bez.  Morris)  1717,  price  6^. 

The  Triumvirate :  or,  a  Letter  from  Palaemon 
to  Celia  at  Bath.  Anon.  (Leonard  Welsted), 
1 71 1,  folio,  price  u. 

The  Battle  of  Poets,  an  heroic  poem.  By 
Tho.  Cooke,  printed  for  J.  Roberts,  folio,  1725. 

Memoirs  of  Lilliput.  Anon.  (Eliza  Hay- 
wood), octavo,  printed  in  1727. 

An  Essay  on  Criticism,  in  prose.  By  the 
Author  of  the  Critical  History  of  England  (J. 
Oldmixon),  octavo,  printed  1728. 

GuUiveriana  and  Alexandriana;  with  an 
ample  preface  and  critique  on  Swift  and  Pope's 
Miscellanies.  By  Jonathan  Smedley,  printed 
by  J.  Roberts,  octavo,  1728. 

Characters  of  the  Times;  or,  an  account  of 
the  writings,  characters,  &c.  of  several  gentle- 
men libelled  by  S and  P ,  in  a  late  Mis- 
cellany.    Octavo,  1728. 

Remarks  on  Mr.  Pope's  Rape  of  the  Lock,  in 
letters  to  a  friend.  By  Mr.  Dennis;  written  in 
1724,  though  not  printed  till  1728,  octavo.     P. 


VERSES,  LETTERS,  ESSAYS,  OR  ADVERTISEMENTS,  IN  THE  PUBLIC 

PRINTS. 


British  Journal,  Nov.  25,  1727.  A  Letter  on 
Swift  and  Pope's  Miscellanies.  (Writ  by  M. 
Concanen.) 

Daily  Journal,  March  18,  1728.  A  Letter  by 
Philo-mauri.     James-Moore  Smith. 

Id.  March  29.  A  letter  about  Thersites; 
accusing  the  author  of  disaffection  to  the  Gov- 
ernment.    By  James-Moore  Smith. 

Mist's  Weekly  Journal,  March  30.  An  Essay 
on  the  Arts  of  a  Poet's  sinking  in  reputation;  or, 
a  Supplement  to  the  Art  of  Sinking  in  Poetry. 
(Supposed  by  Mr.  Theobald.) 

Daily  Journal,  April  3.  A  Letter  under  the 
name  of  Philo-ditto.     By  James-Moore  Smith. 

Flying  Post,  April  4.  A  Letter  against  Gul- 
liver and  Mr.  P.     (By  Mr.  Oldmixon.) 


Daily  Journal,  April  5.  An  Auction  of  Goods 
at  Twickenham.     By  James-Moore  Smith. 

The  Flying  Post,  April  6.  A  Fragment  of  a 
Treatise  upon  Swift  and  Pope.  By  Mr. Oldmixon. 

The  Senator,  April  9.  On  the  same.  By 
Edward  Roome. 

Daily  Journal,  April  8.  Advertisement  by 
James-Moore  Smith. 

Flying  Post,  April  13.  Verses  against  Dr. 
Swift,  and  against  Mr.  P — 's  Homer.  By  J. 
Oldmixon. 

Daily  Journal,  April  23.  Letter  about  the 
translation  of  the  character  of  Thersites  in 
Homer.     By  Thomas  Cooke,  &c. 

Mist's  Weekly  Journal,  April  27.  A  Letter 
of  Lewis  Theobald. 


LIST  OF  BOOKS,   PAPERS,   AND   VERSES. 


443 


Daily  Journal,  May  ii.  A  Letter  against 
Mr.  P.  at  large.     Anon.  (John  Dennis.) 

All  these  were  afterwards  reprinted  in  a 
pamphlet,  entituled  A  Collection  of  all  the 
Verses,  Essays,  Letters,  and  Advertisements 
occasion'd  by  Mr.  Pope  and  Swift's  Miscella- 
nies, prefaced  by  Concanen,  Anonymous,  oc- 
tavo, and  printed  for  A.  Moore,  1728,  price  i.y. 
Others  of  an  elder  date,  having  lain  as  waste 
Paper  many  years,  were,  upon  the  publication 
of  the  Dunciad,  brought  out,  and  their  Authors 


betrayed  by  the  mercenary  Booksellers  (in  hope 
of  some  possibility  of  vending  a  few)  by  adver- 
tising them  in  this  manner  —  "The  Confeder- 
"  ates,  a  farce.  By  Capt.  Breval  (for  which  be 
"was  put  into  the  Dunciad).  An  Epilogue  to 
**  Powel's  Puppet-show.  By  Col.  Ducket  (for 
"  which  he  is  put  into  the  Dunciad).  Essays,  &c. 
**  By  Sir  Richard  Blackmore.  (N.B.  It  was  for 
**  a  passage  of  this  book  that  Sir  Richard  was  put 
**  into  the  Dunciad.)  "    And  so  of  others. 


AFTER  THE  DUNCIAD,  1728. 


An  Essay  on  the  Dunciad.  Octavo,  printed 
for  J.  Roberts.  (In  this  book,  p.  9,  it  was  for- 
mally declared,  "  That  the  complaint  of  the 
**  aforesaid  Libels  and  Advertisements  was  forged 
"and  untrue;  that  all  mouths  had  been  silent, 
"except  in  Mr.  Pope's  praise;  and  nothing 
"  against  him  published,  but  by  Mr.  Theobald.") 

Sawney,  in  blank  verse,  occasioned  by  the 
Dunciad;  with  a  Critique  on  that  poem.  By 
J.  Ralph  (a  person  never  mentioned  in  it  at  first, 
but  inserted  after),  printed  for  J.  Roberts,  octavo. 

A  complete  Key  to  the  Dunciad.  By  E.  Curl, 
i2mo.  price  6d. 

A  second  and  third  edition  of  the  same,  with 
additions,  i2mo. 

The  Popiad.  By  E.  Curl,  extracted  from  J. 
Dennis,  Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  &c.  i2mo.  price 
6d. 

The  Curliad.     By  the  same  E.  Curl. 

The  Female  Dunciad.  Collected  by  the  same 
Mr.  Curl,  i2mo.  price  6d.  With  the  Metamor- 
phosis of  P.  into  a  stinging  Nettle.  By  Mr.  Fox- 
ton,  i2mo. 

The  Metamorphosis  of  Scriblerus  into  Snar- 
lerus.  By  J.  Smedley,  printed  for  A.  Moore, 
folio,  price  6d. 

The  Dunciad  dissected.  By  Curl  and  Mrs. 
Thomas,  i2mo. 

An  Essay  on  the  Taste  and  Writings  of  the 
present  times.  Said  to  be  writ  by  a  gentleman 
of  C.  C.  C.  Oxon,  printed  for  J.  Roberts,  octavo. 

The  Arts  of  Logic  and  Rhetoric,  partly  taken 
from  Bouhours  with  new  Reflections,  &c.  By 
John  Oldmixon,  octavo. 

Remarks  on  the  Dunciad.  By  Mr.  Dennis, 
dedicated  to  Theobald,  octavo. 

A  Supplement  to  the  Profund.  Anon,  by 
Matthew  Concanen,  octavo. 

Mist's  Weekly  Journal,  June  8.  A  long  letter, 
signed  W.  A.  Writ  by  some  or  other  of  the  Club 
of  Theobald,  Dennis,  Moore,  Concanen,  Cooke, 
who  for  some  time  held  constant  weekly  meet- 
ings for  these  kind  of  performances. 

Daily  Journal,  June  i\,     A  letter  signed 


Philoscriblerus,  on  the  name  of  Pope  —  Letter 
to  Mr.  Theobald,  in  verse,  signed  B.  M.  (Beza- 
leel  Morris)  against  Mr.  P — .  Many  other  little 
epigrams  about  this  time  in  the  same  papers,  by 
James  Moore,  and  others. 

Mist's  Journal,  June  22.  A  Letter  by  Lewis 
Theobald. 

Flying  Post,  August  8.  Letter  on  Pope  and 
Swift. 

Daily  Journal,  August  8.  Letter  charging 
the  Author  of  the  Dunciad  with  Treason. 

Durgen:  a  plain  satire  on  a  pompous  satirist. 
By  Edward  Ward,  with  a  little  of  James  Moore. 

Apollo's  Maggot  in  his  Cups.     By  E.  Ward. 

GuUiveriana  secunda.  Being  a  Collection  of 
many  of  the  Libels  in  the  News-papers,  like  the 
former  Volume,  under  the  same  title,  by  Smed- 
ley. Advertised  in  the  Craftsman,  Nov.  9, 1728, 
with  this  remarkable  promise,  that  "  any  thing 
"  which  any  body  should  send  as  Mr.  Pope's  or 
"  Dr.  Swift's,  should  be  inserted  and  published 
"  as  theirs." 

Pope  Alexander's  supremacy  and  infallibility 
examined,  &c.  By  George  Ducket,  and  John 
Dennis,  quarto. 

Dean  Jonathan's  Paraphrase  on  the  fourth 
chapter  of  Genesis.  Writ  by  E.  Roome,  folio, 
1729. 

Labco.  A  paper  of  verses  by  Leonard  Wel- 
sted,  which  after  came  into  One  Epistle^  and 
was  published  by  James  Moore,  quarto,  1730. 
Another  part  of  it  came  out  in  Welsted's  own 
name,  under  the  just  title  of  Dulness  and  Scan- 
dal, folio,  1 73 1. 

There  have  been  since  published: 

Verses  on  the  Imitator  of  Horace.  By  a 
Lady  (or  between  a  Lady,  a  Lord,  and  a  Court- 
'squire).     Printed  for  J.  Roberts,  folio. 

An  Epistle  from  a  Nobleman  to  a  Doctor  of 

Divinity,  from  Hampton-court  (Lord  H y). 

Printed  for  J.  Roberts  also,  folio. 

A  Letter  from  Mr.  Cibbcr  to  Mr.  Pope. 
Printed  for  W.  Lewis  in  Covent-gardcn,  octavo. 

P. 


444 


INDEX. 


INDEX 


OF  PERSONS  CELEBRATED   IN   THIS   POEM. 


(The  first  Number  shews  the  BOOK,  the  second  the  VERSE.) 


A. 

AMBROSE  Philips,  i.  105.  iii.  326. 
Attila,  iii.  92. 
Alaric,  iii.  91. 
Alma  Mater,  iii.  338. 
Annius,  an  Antiquary,  iv.  347. 
Arnall,  William,  ii.  315. 

B. 

Blackmore,  Sir  Richard,  i.  104.  ii.  268. 

Besaleel,  Morris,  ii.  126.  iii.  168. 

Banks,  i.  146. 

Broome,  ibid. 

Bond,  ii.  126. 

Brown,  iii.  28. 

Bladen,  iv.  560. 

Budgel,  Esq.  ii.  397. 

Bentley,  Richard,  iv.  201. 

Bentley,  Thomas,  ii.  205. 

Boyer,  Abel,  ii.  413. 

Bland,  a  Gazetteer,  i.  231. 

Breval,  J.  Durant,  ii.  126,  238. 

Benlowes,  iii.  21. 

Bavius,  ibid. 

Burmannus,  iv.  237. 

Benson,  William,  Esq.  iii.  325.  iv.  1x0. 

Burgersdyck,  iv,  198. 

Boeotians,  iii.  50. 

Bruin  and  Bears,  i.  loi. 

Bear  and  Fiddle,  i.  224. 

C. 

Gibber,  Golley,  Hero  of  the  Foem,  passim. 

Gibber,  jun.  iii.  139,  326. 

Gaxton,  William,  i.  149. 

Gurll,  Edm.  i.  40.  ii.  3,  58,  167,  &c. 

Gooke,  Thomas,  ii.  138. 

Goncanen,  Matthew,  ii.  299. 

Gentlivre,  Susannah,  ii.  411. 

Gaesar  in  Egypt,  i.  251. 

Ghi  Ho-am-ti,  emperor  of  Ghina,  iii.  75. 

Crouzaz,  iv.  198. 

Codrus,  ii.  144. 


De  Foe,  Daniel,  i.  103.  ii.  147. 
De  Foe,  Norton,  ii.  415. 
De  Lyra,  or  Harpsfield,  i.  153. 
Dennis,  John,  i.  106.  ii.  239.  iii.  173. 


Dunton,  John,  ii.  144. 
Durfey,  iii.  146. 
Dutchmen,  ii.  405.  iii.  51, 
Doctors,  at  White's,  i.  203. 
Douglas,  iv.  394. 

E. 

EuSDEN,  Laurence,  Poet  Laureate,  i.  104. 
Eliza  Haywood,  ii.  157,  &c. 


Fleckno^  Richard,  ii.  2. 
Faustus,  Dr.  iii.  233. 
Fleetwood,  iv.  326. 
Free  Masons,  iv.  576. 
French  Gooks,  iv.  553. 


GiLDON,  Charles,  i.  296. 
Goode,  Barn.  iii.  153. 
Goths,  iii.  90. 
Gazetteers,  i.  tais.  ii.  314. 
Gregorians,  and  Gormogons,  iv.  575. 

H. 

Holland,  Philemon,  i.  154. 

Hearne,  Thomas,  iii.  185. 

Horneck,  Philip,  iii.  152. 

Haywood,  Eliza,  ii.  157,  &c. 

Howard,  Edward,  i.  297. 

Henley,  John,  the  Orator,  ii.  2,  425.  iii.  199,  &c. 

Huns,  iii.  90. 

Heywood,  John,  i.  98. 

Harpsfield,  i.  153. 

Hays,  iv.  560. 


John,  King,  i.  252. 
James  I,  iv.  176. 
Jacob,  Giles,  iii.  149. 
Janssen,  a  gamester,  iv.  326. 


Knight,  Robert,  iv.  561. 
Kuster,  iv.  237. 

L. 

LiNTOT,  Bernard,  i.  40.  ii.  53. 
Laws,  William,  ii.  413. 
Log,  King,  i.  lin.  ult. 


INDEX. 


445 


M. 

More,  James,  ii.  50,  &c. 

Morris,  Besaleel,  ii.  126.  iii.  z68. 

Mist,  Nathanael,  i.  208. 

Milbourn,  Luke,  ii.  349. 

Mahomet,  iii.  97. 

Mears,  William,  ii.  125.  iii.  28. 

Motteux,  Peter,  ii.  412. 

Monks,  iii.  52. 

Mandevil,  ii.  414. 

Morgan,  ibid. 

Montalto,  iv.  105. 

Mummius,  an  antiquary,  iv.  371. 

N. 
Newcastle,  Duchess  of,  i.  141. 
Nonjuror,  i.  253. 

O. 

Ogilby,  John,  i.  141,  328. 
Oldmixon,  John,  ii.  283. 
Ozell,  John,  i.  285. 
Ostrogoths,  iii.  93. 
Omar,  the  Caliph,  iii.  81. 
Owls,  i.  271,  290.  iii.  54. 

Athenian,  iv.  362. 

Osborne,  bookseller,  ii.  167. 
Osborne,  mother,  ii.  312. 

P. 

Prynn,  William,  i.  103. 
Philips,  Ambrose,  i.  105.  iii.  326. 
Paridel,  iv.  341. 


QuARLES,  Francis,  i.  140. 
Quemo,  Camillo,  ii.  15. 

R. 

Ralph,  James,  i.  216.  iii.  165. 
Roome,  Edward,  iii.  15a. 


Ripley,  Tho.  iii.  327. 
Ridpath,  George,  i.  208.  ii.  Z49* 
Roper,  Abel,  ii.  149. 
Rich,  iii.  261. 

S. 
Settle,  Elkanah,  i.  90,  146.  iii.  37. 
Smedley,  Jonathan,  ii.  191,  &c. 
Shadwell,  Thomas,  i.  240.  iii.  22. 
Scholiasts,  iv.  231. 
Silenus,  iv.  492. 
Sooterkins,  i.  126. 

T. 

Tate,  i.  105,  238. 

Theobald,  or  Tibbald,  i.  133,  286. 

Tutchin,  John,  ii.  148. 

Toland,  John,  ii.  399.  iii.  212. 

Tindal,  Dr.  ii.  399.  iii.  212.  iv.  292. 

Taylor,  John,  the  Water-poet,  iii.  19. 


Vandals,  iii.  86. 
Visigoths,  iii.  94. 


V. 


w. 


Walpole  [late  Sir  Robert]  praised  by  our  au- 
thor, ii.  324. 
Withers,  George,  i.  296. 
Wynkin  de  Worde,  i.  149. 
Ward,  Edw.  i.  233.  iii.  34. 
Webster,  ii.  258. 
Whitfield,  ibid. 
Warner,  Thomas,  ii.  125. 
Wilkins,  ibid. 

Welsted,  Leonard,  ii.  207.  iii.  170* 
Woolston,  Thomas,  iii.  212. 
Wormius,  iii.  188. 
Wasse,  iv.  237. 

Walker,  Hat-bcarcr  to  Bentley,  iv.  206,  273. 
Warburtotu 


INDEX 

OF  MATTERS  CONTAINED   IN   THIS   POEM  AND   NOTES. 


(The  first  Number  denotes  the  Book,  the  second  the  VERSE  and  Note  on  it. 
Test,  Testimonies.!) 


ADDISON  (Mr.)  railed  at  by  A.  Philips,  iii. 
326. 
Abused  by  J.   Oldmixon,   in    his  Prose- 
Essay  on  Criticism^  etc.  ii.  283. 


—  by  J.  Ralph,  in  a  London  Journal,  iii.  165. 

Celebrated  by  our  author,  —  Upon  his  Dis- 
course of  Medals  —  In  his  Prologue  to  Cato  — 
In  his  Imitation  of  Horace'' s  Epistle  to  Au- 
gustus —  and  in  this  Poem,  ii.  140. 

False  Facts  concerning  him   and  our  Author 


^  [  The  Testimonies  of  A  uthors  concerning  our  Poet  and  his  Works,  published  by  P.  under  the 
name  of  Martinus  Scriblerus,  but  omitted  here.] 


446 


INDEX. 


related   by    anonymous    persons    in  Mtst^s 
Journal f  &=€.  Test. 
Disproved  by  the  Testimonies  of 

—  The  Earl  of  Burlington, 

—  Mr.  Tickel, 

—  Mr.  Addison  himself,  ibid. 

Anger,  one  of  the  characteristics  of  Mr.  Dennis's 

Critical  writings,  i.  io6. 
Affirmation,  another:    Test. 

[To  which  are  added  by  Mr.  Theobald,  Ill- 
nature,  Spite,  Revenge,  i.  io6.] 
Altar  of  Gibber's  Works,  how  built,  and  how 

founded,  i;  157,  &c. 
iEschylus,  iii.  313. 
Asses,  at  a  Citizen's  gate   in  a   morning,  ii. 

247. 
Appearances,  that  we  are  never  to  judge  by 

them,  especially  of  Poets  and  Divines,  ii. 

426. 
Alehouse,  the  Birth-place  of  Mr.  Cook,  ii.  138. 

one  kept  by  Edward  Ward,  i.  233. 

and  by  Taylor  the  Water-poet,  iii.  19. 

Arnall,  William,  what  he  received  out  of  the 

Treasury  for  writing  Pamphlets,  ii.  315. 
Aristotle,  his  friends  and  Confessors,  whom, 

iv.  192. 
how  his  Ethics  came  into  disuse,  ibid. 


B. 

Bedlam,  i.  29. 

Banks,  his  Resemblance  to  Mr.  Cibber  in  Trag- 
edy, i.  146. 

Bates  (Julius) ,  see  Hutchinson  (John) . 

Broome,  Ben  Jonson's  man,  ibid. 

Bavius,  iii.  24.  Mr.  Dennis,  his  great  opinion 
of  him,  ibid. 

Bawdry,  in  Plays,  not  disapproved  of  by  Mr. 
Dennis,  iii.  179. 

Blackmore  (Sir  Richard),  his  Impiety  and  Ir- 
religion,  proved  by  Mr.  Dennis,  ii.  268. 

Hi*  Quantity  of  Works,  and  various  Opin- 
ions of  them. 

His  abuse  of  Mr.  Dry  den  and  Mr.  Pope, 

ibid. 

Bray,  a  word  much  beloved  by  Sir  Richard,  ii. 
260. 

Braying,  described,  ii.  247. 

Birch,  by  no  means  proper  to  be  apply'd  to  young 
Noblemen,  iii.  334. 

Bl — D,  what  became  of  his  works,  i.  231. 

Broome  (Rev.  Mr.  Will).  His  sentiments  of 
our  Author's  virtue.  Test. 

Our  Author  of  his,  iii.  332. 

Brooms  (a  seller  oO  taught  Mr.  John  Jackson 
his  trade,  ii.  137. 

Billingsgate  language,  how  to  be  used  by  learned 
authors,  ii.  142. 


Bond,  Besaleel,  Breval,  not  living  Writers, 

but  Phantoms,  ii.  126. 
Booksellers,  how  they  run  for  a  Poet,  ii.  31,  &c. 
Bailiffs,  how  poets  run  from  them,  ii.  61. 
Bridewell,  ii.  299. 
Bow  bell,  iii.  278. 
Balm  of  Dulness,  the  true  and  the  spurious,  its 

efficacy,  and  by  whom  prepared,  iv.  544. 

C. 

Cibber,  Hero  of  the  Poem,  his  Character,  i.  107. 
Not  absolutely  stupid,  109.  Not  unfortunate 
as  a  Coxcomb,  ibid.  Not  a  slow  writer,  but 
precipitate,  though  heavy,  123.  His  produc- 
tions the  Effects  of  heat,  tho'  an  imperfect  one, 
126.  His  folly  heightened  with  Frenzy,  125. 
He  borrow'd  from  Fletcher  and  Moliere,  131. 
Mangled  Shakespear,  133.  His  head  distin- 
guished for  wearing  an  extraordinary  Periwig, 
167.  More  than  for  its  reasoning  Faculty,  yet 
not  without  Furniture,  177.  His  Elasticity 
and  Fire,  and  how  he  came  by  them,  186.  He 
was  once  thought  to  have  wrote  a  reasonable 
Play,  188.  The  general  character  of  his  Verse 
and  Prose,  190.  His  Conversation,  in  what 
manner  extensive  and  useful,  192,  &c.  Once 
designed  for  the  Church,  where  he  should  have 
been  a  Bishop,  200.  Since  inclined  to  write 
for  the  Minister  of  State,  213.  But  determines 
to  stick  to  his  other  talents,  what  those  are, 
217,  &c.  His  Apostrophe  to  his  Works  before 
he  burns  them,  225,  &c.  His  Repentance  and 
tears,  243.  Dulness  puts  out  the  Fire,  257. 
Inaugurates  and  anoints  him,  287.  His 
Crown,  by  whom  woven,  223.  Of  what  com- 
posed, i,  303.  Who  let  him  into  Court,  300. 
Who  his  Supporters,  307.  His  Entry,  Attend- 
ants, and  Proclamation,  usque  ad  fin.  His 
Enthronization,  ii.  i.  Passes  his  whole  reign 
in  seeing  Shows,  thrd  Book  ii.  And  dream- 
ing dreams,  thro'  Book  iii.  Settle  appears  to 
him,  iii.  35.  Resemblance  between  him  and 
Settle,  iii.  37.  i.  146.  Goodman's  prophecy 
of  him,  iii.  232.  How  he  translated  an  Opera, 
without  knowing  the  story,  305.  And  encour- 
aged Farces  because  it  was  against  his  Con- 
science, 266.  Declares  he  never  mounted  a 
Dragon,  268.  Apprehensions  of  acting  in  a 
Serpent,  287.  What  were  the  Passions  of  his 
Old  Age,  303,  304.  Finally  subsides  in  the 
lap  of  Dulness,  where  he  rests  to  all  eternity, 
iv.  20,  and  Note. 

Gibber,  his  Father,  i.  31.  His  two  Brothers, 
32.  His  Son,  iii.  142.  His  better  Progeny, 
i.  228. 

Gibberian  Forehead,  what  is  meant  by  it,  i.  218. 

read  by  some  Cerberian,  ibid.    Note. 

Cooke  (Tho.),  abused  by  Mr.  Pope,  ii..  138. 


INDEX. 


447 


CoNCANEN  (Mat.),  one  of  the  authors  of  the 

Weekly  Journals,  ii.  299. 
declared  that  when  this  Poem  had  Blanks, 

they  meant  Treason,  iii.  297. 
of  opinion  that  Juvenal  never  satirized  the 

poverty  of  Codrus,  ii.  144. 
Corncutters  Journal,  what  it  cost,  ii.  314. 
Critics,  verbal  ones,  must  have  two  postulata 

allowed  them,  ii.  i. 
Cat-calls,  ii.  231. 
Curl  (Edm.),  his  Panegyric,  ii.  58. 

His  Corinna,  and  what  she  did,  70. 

H     His  Prayer,  80 —  Like  Eridanus,  182. 

Much  favour'd  by  Cloacina,  97,  &c. 

Tost  in  a  Blanket  and  whipped,  151. 

Pillory'd,  ii.  3. 

Caroline,  a  curious  Flower,  its  fate,  iv.  409,  &c. 

D. 
DuLNESS,  the  Goddess;  her  Original  and  Par- 
ents, i.  12.  Her  ancient  Empire,  17.  Her 
public  College,  29.  Academy  for  Poetical 
Education,  33.  Her  Cardinal  Virtues,  45,  &c. 
Her  Ideas,  Productions,  and  Creation,  55,  &c. 
Her  Survey  and  Contemplation  of  her  Works, 
79,  &c.  And  of  her  Children,  93.  Their  un- 
interrupted Succession,  98,  &c.  to  108.  Her 
appearance  to  Cibber,  261.  She  manifests  to 
him  her  Works,  273,  &c.  Anoints  him,  287, 
&c.  Institutes  Games  at  his  Coronation,  ii. 
18,  &c.  The  manner  how  she  makes  a  Wit, 
ii.  47.  A  great  lover  of  a  Joke,  34.  —  And 
loves  to  repeat  the  same  over  again,  122.  Her 
ways  and  means  to  procure  the  Pathetic  and 
Terrible  in  Tragedy,  225,  &c.  Encourages 
Chattering  and  Bawling,  237,  &c.  And  is 
Patroness  of  Party-writing  and  railing,  276, 
&c.  Makes  use  of  the  heads  of  Critics  as 
Scales  to  weigh  the  heaviness  of  Authors,  367. 
Promotes  Slumber  with  the  Works  of  the 
said  Authors,  ibid.  The  wonderful  virtue  of 
sleeping  in  her  lap,  iii.  5,  &c.  Her  Elysium, 
15,  &c.  The  Souls  of  her  Sons  dipt  in  Lethe, 
23.  How  brought  into  the  world,  29,  Their 
Tran.sfigu ration  and  Metempsychosis,  50. 
The  Extent  and  Glories  of  her  Empire,  and 
her  Conquests  throughout  the  World,  iii.  67  to 
138.  A  Catalogue  of  her  Poetical  Forces  in 
this  Nation,  139  to  212.  Prophecy  of  her 
Restoration,  333,  &c.  Accomplishment  of 
it.  Book  iv.  Her  appearance  on  the  Throne, 
with  the  Sciences  led  in  triumph,  iv.  21,  &c. 
Tragedy  and  Comedy  silenced,  37.  General 
assembly  ofall  her  Votaries,  73.  Her  Patrons, 
95.  Her  Critics,  115.  Hersway  in  the  Schools, 
149  to  180.  and  Universities,  189  to  274.  How 
she  educates  Gentlemen  in  their  Travels,  293 
to  334  —  Constitutes  Virtuosi  in  Science,  355, 


&c.  Freethinkers  in  Religion,  459.  Slaves 
and  Dependents  in  Government,  505.  Finally 
turns  them  to  Beasts,  but  preserves  the  form 
of  Men,  525.  What  sort  of  Comforters  she 
sends  them,  529,  &c.  What  Orders  and  De- 
grees she  confers  on  them,  565.  What  Per- 
formances she  expects  from  them,  according 
to  their  several  Ranks  and  Degrees,  583.  The 
powerful  Yawn  she  breathes  on  them,  605, 
&c.  Its  Progress  and  Effects,  607,  &c.  till 
the  Consummation  of  All,  in  the  total  Ex- 
tinction of  the  reasonable  Soul,  and  Restora- 
tion of  Night  and  Chaos,  usq.  adfin. 

Dispensa?y  of  Dr.  Garth,  ii.  140. 

De  Foe,  Daniel,  in  what  resembled  to  William 
Prynne,  i.  103. 

De  Foe,  Norton,  a  scandalous  writer,  ii.  415. 

Dennis  (John) ,  his  Character  of  himself,  i.  106. 

Senior  to  Mr.  Durfey,  iii.  173. 

Esteemed  by  our  Author,  and  why,  ibid. 

His  love  of  Puns,  i.  63. 

—  And  Politics,  i.  106.  ii.  413. 

His  great  Loyalty  to  King  George,  how 

proved,  i.  106. 
A  great  Friend  to  the  Stage 

—  and  to  the  State,  ii.  413. 

How  he  proves  that  none  but  Non-jurors 

and  disaffected  persons  writ  against  Stage- 
plays,  ibid. 

His  respect  to  the  Bible  and  Alcoran,  ibid. 

His  excuse  for  Obscenity  in  Plays,  iii.  179. 

His  mortal  fear  of  Mr.  Pope,  founded  on 

Mr.  Curl's  assurances,  i.  106. 

Of  opinion  that  he  poisoned  Curl,  ibid. 

His  reason  why  Homer  was,  or  was  not  in 

debt,  ii.  118. 

His  Accusations  of  Sir  R.  Blackmore, 

—  As  no  Protestant,  ii.  268. 

—  As  no  Poet,  ibid. 

His  wonderful  Dedication  to  G.  D.  Esq.  iii. 

179- 
Drams,  dangerous  to  a  Poet,  iii.  146. 
Dedicators,  ii.  198,  &c. 
Dunciad,  how  to  be  correctly  spell'd,  i.  i. 


E. 

Edwards  (Thomas),  iv.  567. 

A  Gentleman  of  the  last  edition. 

EuSDEN  (Laurence),  i.  104. 

Tax'd  by  Oldmixon  with  Nonsense,  Hid, 

Ears,  some  people  advised  how  to  preserve  them, 
iii.  214. 


Falsehoods  told  of  our  Author  in  Print. 

Of  his  taking  Verses  from  James  Moore, 


448 


INDEX. 


—  And  of  his  intending  to  abuse  Bishop  Bur- 
net, ibid. 

By  John  Dennis,  of  his  really  poisoning  Mr. 
Curl,  i.  io6. 

—  And  of  contempt  for  the  sacred  writings,  ii. 
268. 

—  By  Edward  Ward,  of  his  being  bribed  by 
a  Duchess  to  satirise  Ward  of  Hackney  in 
the  pillory,  iii.  34. 

—  By  Mist  the  Journalist,  of  unfair  proceed- 
ing in  the  undertaking  of  the  Odyssey  and 
Shakespear,  Test. 

—  Disproved  by  the  testimony  of  the  Lords 
Harcourt  and  Bathurst. 

—  By  Mist  the  Journalist,  concerning  Mr. 
Addison  and  him,  two  or  three  Lies,  Test. 

—  By  Pasquin,  of  his  being  in  a  Plot,  iii.  179. 

—  By  Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  of  hisburlesqu- 
ing  Scripture,  upon  the  authority  of  Curl, 
ii,  268. 

Fleas  and  verbal  Critics  compar'd,  as  equal 
judges  of  the  human  frame  and  wit,  iv.  238. 

Fletcher,  made  Cibbcr's  Property,  i.  131. 

Mac  Fleckno,  not  so  decent  and  chaste  in  the 
Diction  as  the  Dunciad,  ii.  75. 

Friendship,  understood  by  Mr.  Dennis  to  be 
somewhat  else  in  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  &c. 
iii.  179. 

French  Cooks,  iv.  553. 

Furius,  Mr.  Dennis  called  so  by  Mr.  Theobald, 
i.  106. 

Fleet-ditch,  ii.  271.  Its  Nymphs,  333.  Dis- 
coveries there,  ibid. 

Flies,  not  the  ultimate  object  of  human  study, 
iv.  454. 

Falsehoods  and  Flatteries  permitted  to  be  in- 
scribed on  Churches,  i.  43. 

G. 

Good  nature  of  our  author;  Instances  of  it  in 

this  work,  i.  328.  ii.  282. 
Good   Sense,  Grammar,  and  Verse,  desired  to 

give  place  for  the  sake  of  Mr.  Bes.  Morris  and 

his  Works,  iii.  168. 
GiLDON  (Charles),  abused  our  Author  in  many 

things.  Test.  i.  296. 

Printed  against  Jesus  Christ,  i.  296. 

GiLDON  and  Dennis,  their  unhappy  difference 

lamented,  iii.  173. 
Gentleman,  his  Hymn  to  his  Creator,  by  Wel- 

sted,  ii.  207. 
Gazetteers,  the  monstrous  price  of  their  Writ- 
ings,  ii.   314.     The  miserable  fate  of  their 

Works,  ibid. 

H. 

Handel,  an  excellent  musician,  banished  to 
Ireland  by  the  English  Nobility,  iv.  65. 


Heydeggre,  a  strange  bird  from  Switzerland,  1. 
290. 

Horace,  censured  by  Mr.  Welsted,  Test. 

Did  not  know  what  he  was  about  when  he 

wrote  his  Art  of  Poetry,  ibid. 

Henley  (John  the  Orator) ,  his  Tub  and  Euchar- 
ist, ii.  2.  His  History,  iii.  199,  His  opinion 
of  Ordination  and  Christian  Priesthood,  ibid. 
His  Medals,  ibid. 

Haywood  (Mrs.),  What  sort  of  Game  for  her, 
ii.  157.  Won  by  Curl,  187.  Her  great  re- 
spect for  him.  The  Offspring  of  her  Brain 
and  Body  (according  to  Curl) ,  ib.  Not  under- 
valued by  being  set  against  a  Jordan.  165. 

Hints,  extraordinary  ones,  ii.  268. 

HoRNECK  and  Roome,  two  Party- writers,  iii. 
152. 

Hutchinson  (John)  with  his  man  Julius,  a 
subminister  of  the  rights  of  Dulness,  iii.  215. 

never  bowed  the  knee  to  Sense. 

cuts  down  the  groves  of  the  Academy,  iii. 

334- 

defiles  the  high  places  of  Geometry , 

— r—  and  tramples  on  the  fallen  Dagon  of  New- 
tonian Philosophy,  iii.  216. 

I. 

Index-Learning,  the  use  of  it,  i.  279. 

Journals,  how  dear  they  cost  the  nation,  ii.  314. 

Jus  Divinum,  iv.  188. 

Impudence  celebrated  in  Mr.  Curl,  ii.  159,  186. 

in  Mr.  Norton  De  Foe,  ii.  415. 

in  Mr.  Henley,  iii.  199. 

in  Mr.  Cibber,  jun.  iii.  139. 

in  Mr.  Cibber,  sQn.  passim. 


Lord  Mayor's  Show,  \.  85. 

Libeller   [see  Edwards,  Tho.],  a  Grub-street 

Critic  run  to  seed,  iv.  567. 
Library  of  Bays,  i.  131. 
Liberty  and  Monarchy  mistaken  for  one  another, 

iv.  181. 
Lud  (King),  ii.  349. 
Log  (King),  i.  ver.  ult. 
Lintot  (Bernard),  ii.  53. 

Laureate,  his  Crown,  of  what  composed,  i.  303. 
Lycophron,  his  dark-lanthorn,  by  whom  turned, 


iv.  6. 


M. 


Madmen,  two  related  to  Cibber,  i.  32. 

Magazines,  their  character,  i.  42. 

Moliere,  crucify'd,  i.  132. 

MooRE  (James),  his  story  of  six  Verses,  and  of 
ridiculing  Bishop  Burnet  in  the  Memoirs  of 
a  Parish  Clerk,  proved  false,  by  the  Testi- 
monies of 


INDEX. 


449 


—  The  Lord  BoHngbroke,  Test, 

—  Hugh  Bethel,  Esq.  ib. 

—  Earl  of  Peterborough,  ibid. 

—  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  ibid. 

His  Plagiarisms,  some  few  of  them,  ibid. 

and  ii.  50.  What  he  was  real  author  of  (be- 
side the  Story  above  mentioned.)  Vide  List 
of  scurrilous  Papers. 

Erasmus,  his  advice  to  him,  ii.  50. 

MiLBOURNE,  a  fair  Critic,  and  why,  ii.  349. 

Madness,  of  what  sort  Mr.  Dennis's  was,  accord- 
ing to  Plato,  i.  106. 

according  to  himself,  ii.  268. 

how  allied  to  Dulness,  iii.  15. 

Mercuries  and  Magazines,  i.  42. 

May-pole  in  the  Strand,  turned  into  a  Church, 
ii.  28. 

Morris  (Besaleel),  ii.  126.  iii.  168. 

Monuments  of  Poets,  with  Inscriptions  to  other 
Men,  iv.  131,  &c. 

Medals,  how  swallowed  and  recovered,  iv.  375. 

Microscope  of  Wit,  to  be  had  of  Mr.  John  Upton, 
iv.  233. 

N. 

Nodding  described,  ii.  391. 

Needham's,  i.  324. 

NoOs,  where  wanted,  iv.  244. 


Oldmixon  (John)  abused  Mr.  Addison  and  Mr. 
Pope,  ii.  283.  Falsify'd  Daniel's  History^  then 
accused  others  of  falsifying  Lord  Clarendon's ; 
proved  a  Slanderer  in  it,  ibid. 

abused  Mr.  Eusden  and  my  Lord  Chamber- 
lain, i.  104. 

Odyssey,  Falsehoods  concerning  Mr.  P.'s  pro- 
posals for  that  work,  Test. 

Disproved  by  those  very  Proposals,  ibid. 

Owls  and  Opium,  i.  271. 

Oranges,  and  their  use,  i.  236. 

Opera,  her  advancement,  iii.  301.  iv.  45,  &c. 

Opiates,  two  very  considerable  ones,  ii.  370. 
Their  Efficacy,  390,  &c. 

Osborne,  Bookseller,  crowned  with  a  Jordan,  ii. 
190. 

Osborne  (Mother),  turned  to  stone,  ii.  312. 

Owls,  desired  to  answer  Mr.  Ralph,  iii.  166. 


P. 

Pope  (Mr.),  [his  Life],  Educated  by  Jesuits  — 
by  a  Parson  —  by  a  Monk  —  at  St.  Omer's  — 
at  Oxford  —  at  home  —  no  where  at  all.  Test, 
init.  His  father  a  Merchant,  a  Husbandman, 
a  Farmer,  a  Hatter,  the  Devil,  ibid. 

His  Death  threatened  by  Dr.  Smedley,  ibid. 

but  afterwards  advised  to  hang  himself  or  cut 
his  throat,  ibid.  To  be  hunted  down  like  a 
2G 


wild  beast,  by  Mr.  Theobald,  ibid,  unless 
hanged  for  Treason,  on  information  of  Pas- 
quin,  Mr.  Dennis,  Mr.  Curl,  and  Concanen, 
ibid. 

Poverty,  never  to  be  mentioned  in  Satire,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  Journalists  and  Hackney- 
writers —  The  Poverty  of  Codrus,  not  touched 
upon  by  Juvenal,  ii.  143.  When,  and  how 
far  Poverty  may  be  satirized,  Letter,  p.  364. 
Whenever  mentioned  by  our  Author,  it  is 
only  as  an  Extenuation  and  Excuse  for  bad 
Writers,  ii.  282. 

Personal  abuses  not  to  be  endured,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  Mr.  Dennis,  Theobald,  Curl,  &c.  ii.  142. 

Personal  abuses  on  our  Author,  by  Mr.  Dennis, 
Gildon,  &c.  ibid.  —  'By  Mr.  Theobald,  Test. 

—  By  Mr.  Ralph,  iii.  165.— By  Mr.  Wel- 
sted,  ii.  207  —  By  Mr.  Cooke,  ii.  138 — By 
Mr.  Concanen,  ii.  299 — By  Sir  Richard 
Blackmore,  ii.  268 — By  Edw.  Ward,  iii.  34 

—  and  their  Brethren, /a.sj/»z. 

Personal  abuses  of  others.  Mr.  Theobald  of 
Mr.  Dennis  for  his  poverty,  i.  106.  Dr. 
Dennis  of  Mr.  Theobald  for  his  livelihood 
by  the  Stage,  and  the  Law,  i.  286.  Mr. 
Dennis  of  Sir  Richard  Blackmore  for  Impi- 
ety, ii.  268.  D.  Smedley  of  Mr.  Concanen, 
ii.  299.  Mr.  Oldmixon's  of  Mr.  Eusden,  i. 
104.  Of  Mr.  Addison,  ii.  283.  Mr.  Cook's 
of  Mr.  Eusden,  i.  104. 

Politics,  very  useful  in  Criticism,  Mr.  Dennis's, 
i.  106.  ii.  413. 

Pillory,  a  post  of  respect,  in  the  opinion  of  Mr. 
Curl,  iii.  34. 

and  of  Mr.  Ward,  ib. 

Plagiary  described,  ii.  47,  &c. 

Priori,  Argument  a  priori  not  the  best  to  prove 
a  God,  iv.  471. 

Poverty  and  Poetry,  their  Cave,  i.  33. 

Profaneness  not  to  be  endured  in  our  Author, 
but  very  allowable  in  Shakespear,  i.  50. 

Party-writers,  their  three  Qualifications,  ii.  276. 

Proteus  (the  fable  oQ,  what  to  be  understood  by 
it,  i.  31. 

Palmers,  Pilgrims,  iii.  113. 

Pindars  and  Miltons,  of  the  modern  sort,  iii.  164. 


QuERNO,  his  resemblance  to  Mr.  Cibber,  ii.  15. 
Wept  for  joy,  ibid.     So  did  Mr.  C.  i.  243. 


R. 

Resemblance  of  the  Hero  to  several  great  Au- 
thors, 

To  Querno,  ut  supra. 
To  Settle,  iii.  37. 
To  Banks  and  Broome,  i.  146. 

Round-house,  ii.  propefin* 


450 


INDEX, 


Ralph  (James),  iii.  165.     See  Sawney. 
RooME  and  Horneck,  iii.  152. 


Shakespeare,  to  be  spelled  always  with  an  e  at 
the  end,  i.  i.  but  not  with  an  e  in  the  middle, 
ibid.  An  Edition  of  him  in  marble,  ibid. 
Mangled,  altered,  and  cut  by  the  Players  and 
Critics,  i.  133.    Very  sore  still  of  Tibbald,  ibid. 

Sepulchral  Lies  on  Church  Walls,  i.  43. 

Settle  (Elkanah),  Mr.  Dennis's  account  of 
him,  iii.  37.  And  Mr.  Welsted's,  ibid.  Once 
preferred  to  Dryden,  iii.  37.  A  party-writer 
of  Pamphlets,  ibid,  and  iii.  283.  A  writer  of 
Farces  and  Drolls,  and  employed  at  last  in 
Bartholomew  fair,  iii.  283. 

Sawney,  a  Poem :  The  author's  great  ignorance 
in  Classical  Learning,  i.  i. 

In  Languages,  iii.  165. 

His  Praises  on  himself  above  Mr.  Addison, 

ib. 

Swiss  of  Heaven,  who  they  are,  ii.  358, 

A  slipshod  Sibyl,  iii.  15. 

Silenus  described,  iv.  492. 

Scholiasts,  iii.  191.  iv.  211,  232. 

Supperless,  a  mistake  concerning  this  word  set 
right  with  respect  to  Poets  and  other  temper- 
ate Students,  i.  115. 

Sevenfold  face,  who  master  of  it,  i.  244. 

Soul  (the  vulgar  Soul),  its  office,  iv.  441. 

Schools,  their  homage  paid  to  Dulness,  and  in 
what,  iv.  150,  &c. 

T. 

Tibbald,  not  Hero  of  this  Poem,  i.  init.  Pub- 
lished an  edition  of  Shakespear,  i.  133.     Au- 


thor, secretly,  and  abettor  of  Scurrilities 
against  Mr.  P.  Vid.  Testimonies  and  List 
of  Books. 

Thule,  a  very  Northern  Poem,  puts  out  a  fire,  i. 
258. 

Tailors,  a  good  word  for  them,  against  Poets  and 
ill  Paymasters,  ii.  118. 

Thunder,  how  to  make  it  by  Mr.  Dennis's  re- 
ceipt, ii.  226. 

Travelling  described,  and  its  advantages,  iv.  293, 
&c. 

V. 

Verbal  Critics.    Two  points  always  to  be  granted 

them,  ii.  i. 
Venice,  the  City  of,  for  what  famous,  iv.  308. 
University,  how  to  pass  thro*  it,  iv.  255,  289. 
Upton  (John),   a  Renegado  Scholiast,  writes 

notes  on  the  Fire-side,  iii.  173. 


W. 

Ward  (Edw. ) ,  a  Poet  and  Alehouse-keeper  in 
Moor-fields,  i.  233.  What  became  of  his 
Works,  ibid. 

His  high  opinion  of  his  Namesake,  and  his 

respect  for  the  Pillory,  iii.  34. 

Welsted  (Leonard),  one  of  the  authors  of  the 
Weekly  Journals,  abused  our  Author,  &c. 
many  years  since,  ii.  207.  Taken  by  Den- 
nis for  a  Didapper,  ibid.  The  character  of 
his  Poetry,  iii.  170. 

Weekly  Journals,  by  whom  written,  ii.  280. 

Whirligigs,  iii.  57. 

Wizard,  his  Cup,  and  the  strange  Effects  of  it, 
iv.  517,  &c. 


MISCELLANEOUS    PIECES   IN 
VERSE. 


IMITATIONS   OF    HORACE. 

[Of  the  following  Imitations  of  Horace  the  first  two  are  rather  imitations  of  Swift, 
Horace  merely  supplying  the  text  for  the  travesty.  For  (as  previous  editors  have  not 
failed  to  point  out) ,  no  styles  could  be  found  less  alike  one  another  than  the  bland  and 
polite  style  of  Horace  and  the  downright,  and  often  cynically  plain,  manner  of  Swift. 
With  Pope  the  attempt  to  write  in  Swift's  style  was  a  mere  tour  de  force,  which  he  could 
indeed  carry  out  with  success  through  a  few  lines,  but  not  further,  without  relapsing 
into  his  own  more  elaborate  manner.  Swift's  marvellous  precision  and  nettete  of  expres- 
sion are  something  very  different  from  Pope's  pointed  and  rhetorical  elegance.  The 
latter  was  as  ill  suited  by  the  Hudibrastic  metre  patronised  by  Swift,  as  was  the  comic 
genius  of  Butler  himself  by  the  wider,  but  nowise  easier,  garment  of  the  heroic  couplet. 
As  it  was  Swift,  and  not  Horace,  whom  Pope  imitated  in  the  first  two  of  the  following 
pieces,  it  is  needless  to  follow  Warton  into  a  comparison  between  them  and  previous 
attempts  at  a  real  version  of  Horace.  The  Ode  to  Venus,  which  was  first  published  in 
1737,  more  nearly  approaches  the  character  of  a  translation.] 


BOOK  I.     EPISTLE  VII.i 

Imitated  in  the  Manner  of  Dr.  Swift. 

"TP  IS  true,  my  Lord,  I  gave  my  word, 

X    I  would  be  with  you,  June  the  third ; 
Changed  it  to  August,  and  (in  short) 
Have  kept  it  —  as  you  do  at  Court. 

You  humour  me  when  I  am  sick,  5 

Why  not  when  I  am  splenetic? 
In  town,  what  Objects  could  I  meet? 
The  shops  shut  up  in  ev'ry  street, 
And  Fun'rals  blackening  all  the  Doors, 
And  yet  more  melancholy  Whores  :  lO 

And  what  a  dust  in  every  place! 
And  a  thin  Court  that  wants  your  Face, 
And  Fevers  raging  up  and  down, 
And  W  *  and  H  *  *  both  in  town!  2 

1  [Horace's    Epistle,  which    serves    as    the  Only  about  half  of  Horace's  Epistle  is  followed 

groundwork  of  the  above,  is  addressed  to  Mae-  by  Pope.] 

cenas,  and  intended  as  an  excuse  and  a  justifi-         ^  [Possibly  Ward  and  Henley,  as  two  repre- 

cation  for  his  protracted  absence  from   Rome,  sentative  quacks  for  bodily  and  mental  ailments.] 


45^  .   IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE, 

"The  Dog-days  are  no  more  the  case."  15 

'T  is  true  ;  but  Winter  comes  apace  : 
Then  southward  let  your  Bard  retire, 
Hold  out  some  months  Hwixt  Sun  and  Fire, 
And  you  shall  see  the  first  warm  Weather, 
Me  and  the  Butterflies  together.  20 

My  Lord,  your  Favours  well  I  know ; 
'T  is  with  Distinction  you  bestow  ; 
And  not  to  evVy  one  that  comes, 
Just  as  a  Scotsman  does  his  Plums. 

" Pray  take  them,  Sir,  —  Enough  's  a  Feast:  25 

"Eat  some,  and  pocket  up  the  rest"  — 
What?  rob  your  Boys?  those  pretty  rogues! 
"No,  Sir,  you  '11  leave  them  to  the  Hogs." 
Thus  Fools  with  Compliments  besiege  ye, 
Contriving  never  to  oblige  ye.  30 

Scatter  your  Favours  on  a  Fop, 
Ingratitude  's  the  certain  crop  ; 
And  't  is  but  just,  I  '11  tell  ye  wherefore, 
You  give  the  things  you  never  care  for. 
A  wise  man  always  is  or  should  35 

Be  mighty  ready  to  do  good ; 
But  makes  a  difference  in  his  thought 
Betwixt  a  Guinea  and  a  Groat. 

Now  this  I  '11  say :  you  '11  find  in  me 
A  safe  Companion,  and  a  free ;  40 

But  if  you  'd  have  me  always  near — 
A  word,  pray,  in  your  Honour's  ear. 
I  hope  it  is  your  Resolution 
.  To  give  me  back  my  Constitution! 
The  sprightly  Wit,  the  lively  Eye,^  45 

Th'  engaging  Smile,  the  Gaiety, 
That  laugh'd  down  many  a  Summer  Sun, 
And  kept  you  up  so  oft  till  one : 
And  all  that  voluntary  Vein, 
As  when  Belinda  ^  rais'd  my  Strain.  50 

A  Weasel  once  made  shift  to  slink 
In  at  a  Corn-loft  thro'  a  Chink ; 
But  having  amply  stuff'd  his  skin, 
Could  not  get  out  as  he  got  in : 

Which  one  belonging  to  the  House  55 

('T  was  not  a  Man,  it  was  a  Mouse) 
Observing,  cry'd,  "  You  'scape  not  so, 
"  Lean  as  you  came.  Sir,  you  must  go." 

Sir,  you  may  spare  your  Application, 
I  'm  no  such  Beast,  nor  his  Relation ;  '  60 

Nor  one  that  Temperance  advance, 
Cramm'd  to  the  throat  with  Ortolans  : 

*  [Cf.  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot,  v.  ii8.]  himself  and  the  public  on  his  Rape  of  the  Lock* 

^  As  when  Belinda]     A  compliment  he  pays     IVarburton. 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE.  453 

Extremely  ready  to  resign 

All  that  may  make  me  none  of  mine. 

South-sea  Subscriptions  take  who  please,  65 

Leave  me  but  Liberty  and  Ease. 

'T  was  what  I  said  to  Craggs  and  Child,^ 

Who  prais'd  my  Modesty,  and  smiPd. 

Give  me,  I  cry'd,  (enough  for  me) 

My  Bread,  and  Independency!  70 

So  bought  an  Annual  Rent  or  two, 

And  liv'd  —  just  as  you  see  I  do; 

Near  fifty,  and  without  a  Wife, 

I  trust  that  sinking  Fund,  my  Life. 

Can  I  retrench?     Yes,  mighty  well,  75 

Shrink  back  to  my  Paternal  Cell,^ 

A  little  House,  with  Trees  a-row, 

And,  like  its  Master,  very  low. 

There  died  my  Father,  no  man's  Debtor, 

And  there  I  '11  die,  nor  worse  nor  better.  80 

To  set  this  matter  full  before  ye. 
Our  old  Friend  Swift  will  tell  his  Story. 

"  Harley,^  the  Nation's  great  Support,"  — 
But  you  may  read  it ;  I  stop  short. 


BOOK   IL     SATIRE   VL* 

The  first  Part  imitated  in  the  Year  17 14,  by  Dr.  Swift;  the  latter  Part 
added  afterwards. 

I'VE  often  wish'd  that  I  had  clear 
For  life,  six  hundred  pounds  a  year, 
A  handsome  House  to  lodge  a  Friend, 
A  River  at  my  garden's  end, 

A  Terrace-walk,  and  half  a  Rood  5 

Of  Land,  set  out  to  plant  a  Wood, 

Well,  now  I  have  all  this  and  more, 
I  ask  not  to  increase  my  store ; 
But  here  a  Grievance  seems  to  lie, 

All  this  is  mine  but  till  I  die ;  10 

I  can't  but  think  't  would  sound  more  clever, 
To  me  and  to  my  Heirs  for  ever. 

If  I  ne'er  got  or  lost  a  groat, 
By  any  Trick,  or  any  Fault ; 

1  Craggs  and  Child,']     Mr.  Craggs  gave  him  2  [Pope's  father  died  at  Chiswick  in  1717.] 

some  South-sea  subscriptions.     He  was  so  indif-  ^  [Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford,  the  friend  of  Swift, 

ferent   about   them  as  to  neglect   making  any  See  the  following  Imitation.] 

benefit  of  them.     He  used  to  say  it  was  a  satis-  *  [In  this  Satire  an  opportunity  is  afforded  fot 

faction  to  him  that  he  did  not  grow  rich  (as  he  judging  how  far  Pope  succeeds  in  imitating  the 

might  have  done)  by  the  public  calamity.    War-  style  of  his  friend.     Pope's  performance  begins 

burton.     [Cf.  Introductory  Memoir,  p.  xxxy.]  at  v.  125.] 
Sir  Francis  Child,  the  banker.     Bowles. 


454  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 

And  if  I  pray  by  Reason's  rules,  Ij 

And  not  like  forty  other  Fools : 

As  thus,  ''  Vouchsafe,  oh  gracious  Maker! 

"  To  grant  me  this  and  t'  other  Acre : 

"  Or,  if  it  be  thy  Will  and  Pleasure, 

"  Direct  my  Plough  to  find  a  Treasure :"  20 

But  only  what  my  Station  fits. 

And  to  be  kept  in  my  right  wits.^ 

Preserve,  Almighty  Providence, 

Just  what  you  gave  me.  Competence : 

And  let  me  in  these  shades  compose  25 

Something  in  Verse  as  true  as  Prose ; 

Remov'd  from  all  th'  Ambitious  Scene, 

Nor  puff 'd  by  Pride,  nor  sunk  by  Spleen. 

In  short,  I  'm  perfectly  content. 
Let  me  but  live  on  this  side  Trent ;  30 

Nor  cross  the  Channel  twice  a  year. 
To  spend  six  months  with  Statesmen  here.* 

I  must  by  all  means  come  to  town, 
'T  is  for  the  service  of  the  Crown. 

"  Lewis,  the  Dean  will  be  of  use,  35 

"  Send  for  him  up,  take  no  excuse." 
The  toil,  the  danger  of  the  Seas ; 
Great  Ministers  ne'er  think  of  these ; 
Or  let  it  cost  five  hundred  pound, 

No  matter  where  the  money  's  found,  40 

It  is  but  so  much  more  in  debt. 
And  that  they  ne'er  consider'd  yet. 

"  Good  Mr.  Dean,  go  change  your  gown, 
*^  Let  my  Lord  know  you  're  come  to  town." 
I  hurry  me  in  haste  away,  45 

Not  thinking  it  is  Levee-day ; 
And  find  his  Honour  in  a  Pound, 
Hemm'd  by  a  triple  Circle  round, 
Chequer'd  with  Ribbons  blue  and  green:* 
How  should  I  thrust  myself  between?  50 

Some  Wag  observes  me  thus  perplext, 
And,  smiling,  whispers  to  the  next, 
"  I  thought  the  Dean  had  been  too  proud, 
"  To  jostle  here  among  a  crowd." 

Another  in  a  surly  fit,  55 

Tells  me  I  have  more  Zeal  than  Wit, 
"  So  eager  to  express  your  love, 

1  [Swift's  apprehension  of  idiotcy,  to  be  so  his  last  visit  to  England  in  1727.     But  he  never 
terribly  justified  at  the  close  of  his  life,  haunted  condescended  to  ask  it  either  of  friend  or  foe.] 
him  from  an  early  period.     Its  most  terrible  ex-         ^  [The  orders  of  the  Garter  and  Shamrock, 
pression  is  the  description  of  the  Struldbrugs  in  The  Bath  was  not  revived  till  1725  (by  Sir  R. 
Gulliver's  voyage  to  the  Houyhnhms.]  Walpole).     At  Lilliput,  Gulliver  observed  the 

2  [Swift  appears  never  to  have  absolutely  re-  nobles  leaping  over  a  stick,  in  order  to  be  deco- 
linquished  the  hope  of  English  preferment  till  rated  with  blue,  red  and  green  threads.] 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE.  455 

"  You  ne'er  consider  whom  you  shove, 

"  But  rudely  press  before  a  Duke." 

I  own  I  'm  pleas'd  with  this  rebuke,  60 

And  take  it  kindly  meant  to  show 

What  I  desire  the  World  should  know. 

I  get  a  whisper,  and  withdraw ; 
When  twenty  Fools  I  never  saw 

Come  with  Petitions  fairly  penned,  65 

Desiring  I  would  stand  their  friend. 

This,  humbly  offers  me  his  Case  — 
That,  begs  my  intVest  for  a  Place  — 
A  hundred  other  Men's  affairs. 

Like  bees,  are  humming  in  my  ears.  70 

"To-morrow  my  Appeal  comes  on, 
"  Without  your  help  the  Cause  is  gone  "  — 
"  The  Duke  expects  my  Lord  and  you, 
"  About  some  great  Affair,  at  Two  —  " 
"  Put  my  Lord  Bolingbroke  in  mind,  75 

"  To  get  my  Warrant  quickly  signed : 
"  Consider,  't  is  my  first  request."  — 
*  Be  satisfied,  I  '11  do  my  best : '  — 
Then  presently  he  falls  to  tease, 

"  You  may  for  certain,  if  you  please  ;  80 

"I  doubt  not,  if  his  Lordship  knew  — 
"And,  Mr.  Dean,  one  word  from  you"  — 

'T  is  (let  me  see)  three  years  and  more, 
(October  next  it  will  be  four)^ 

Since  Harley  bid  me  first  attend,  85 

And  chose  me  for  an  humble  friend ; 
Would  take  me  in  his  Coach  to  chat, 
And  question  me  of  this  and  that ; 
As,  "  What 's  o'clock  ?  "    And,  "  How 's  the  Wind?  " 
"  Whose  Chariot 's  that  we  left  behind  ?  "  90 

Or  gravely  try  to  read  the.  lines 
Writ  underneath  the  Country  Signs  ; 
Or,  "  Have  you  nothing  new  to-day 
"  From  Pope,  from  Parnell,'^  or  from  Gay?" 
Such  tattle  often  entertains  95 

My  Lord  and  me  as  far  as  Staines, 
As  once  a  week  we  travel  down 
To  Windsor,  and  again  to  Town, 
Where  all  that  passes,  inter  nos. 
Might  be  proclaim'd  at  Charing-Cross.  icx> 

Yet  some  I  know  with  envy  swell, 

1  [Swift  commenced  his  literary  labours  for  blerus  Club.  He  died  in  1717;  and  Pope  pub- 
the  Tories  in  1710.]  lished  his  poems  in  1722,  with  a  dedication  to 

2  [Thomas  Parnell  (born  in  1679) ,  author  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford  (v.  infra,  p.  460) .  Pamell 
the  Hermit,  and  a  lyrical  poet  of  real  merit,  wrote  the  Life  of  Homer  for  Pope's  Iliad,  and 
went  over,  like  Swift,  from  the  Whigs  to  the  translated  the  Batrachomyomachia.  His  biog- 
Tories,  and  was  one  of  the  members  of  the  Scri-  raphy  was  afterwards  written  by  Goldsmith.] 


456  IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE. 

Because  they  see  me  us'd  so  well : 

"  How  think  you  of  our  Friend  the  Dean? 

"  I  wonder  what  some  people  mean  ; 

"  My  Lord  and  he  are  grown  so  great,  I05 

"Always  together,  tHe  a  tHe; 

"What,  they  admire  him  for  his  jokes  — 

"See  but  the  fortune  of  some  Folks!" 

There  flies  about  a  strange  report 

Of  some  Express  arrivM  at  Court;  1 10 

I  'm  stoppM  by  all  the  Fools  I  meet, 

And  catechis'd  in  ev'ry  street. 

"  You,  Mr.  Dean,  frequent  the  Great ; 

"Inform  us,  will  the  Emp'ror  treat? 

"Or  do  the  Prints  and  Papers  lie?"  II5 

*  Faith,  Sir,  you  know  as  much  as  I.' 

"Ah  Doctor,  how  you  love  to  jest? 

"  'T  is  now  no  secret "  —  *  I  protest 

^  'T  is  one  to  me '  —  "  Then  tell  us,  pray, 

"When  are  the  Troops  to  have  their  pay?"  120 

And,  tho'  I  solemnly  declare 

I  know  no  more  than  my  Lord  Mayor, 

They  stand  amaz'd,  and  think  me  grown 

The  closest  mortal  ever  known. 

Thus  in  a  sea  of  folly  toss'd,  I25 

My  choicest  Hours  of  life  are  lost; 
Yet  always  wishing  to  retreat. 
Oh,  could  I  see  my  Country  Seat! 
There,  leaning  near  a  gentle  Brook, 

Sleep,  or  peruse  some  ancient  Book,^  I30 

And  there  in  sweet  oblivion  drown 
Those  Cares  that  haunt  the  Court  and  Town. 
O  charming  Noons!  and  Nights  divine! 
Or  when  I  sup,  or  when  I  dine. 

My  Friends  above,  my  Folks  below,  I35 

Chatting  and  laughing  all-a-row, 
The  Beans  and  Bacon  set  before  'em,^ 
The  Grace-cup  served  with  all  decorum : 
Each  willing  to  be  pleas'd,  and  please, 
And  ev'n  the  very  Dogs  at  ease!  140 

Here  no  man  prates  of  idle  things. 
How  this  or  that  Italian  sings, 
A  Neighbour's  Madness,  or  his  Spouse's, 
Or  what 's  in  either  of  the  Houses  : 
But  something  much  more  our  concern,  145 

*  [Charles  Fox,  on  a  summer's    day  at  St.  2  [« (For  one  whole  day)  we  have  had  nothing 

Ann's,  declared  it  the  right  time  for  lying  in  the  for  dinner  but  mutton-broth,  beans  and  bacon, 

shade  with  a  book,     '  Why  with  a  book  ?' asked  and  a  barn-door  fowl.'    Pope  to  Swift  (Srom 

Sheridan.]  Pawley),  June  28,  1728.] 


IMITATIONS  OF  HORACE.  457 

And  quite  a  scandal  not  to  learn : 

Which  is  the  happier,  or  the  wiser, 

A  man  of  Merit,  or  a  Miser? 

Whether  we  ought  to  choose  our  Friends, 

For  their  own  Worth,  or  our  own  Ends?  150 

What  good,  or  better,  we  may  call, 

And  what,  the  very  best  of  all? 

Our  Friend  Dan  Prior,i  told,  (you  know) 
A  Tale  extremely  a  propos : 

Name  a  Town  Life,  and  in  a  trice,  155 

He  had  a  Story  of  two  Mice. 
Once  on  a  time  (so  runs  the  Fable) 
A  Country  Mouse,  right  hospitable, 
Received  a  Town  Mouse  at  his  Board, 
Just  as  a  Farmer  might  a  Lord.  160 

A  frugal  Mouse  upon  the  whole. 
Yet  lov'd  his  Friend,  and  had  a  Soul, 
Knew  what  was  handsome,  and  would  do't, 
On  just  occasion,  co?i^e  qtu  coute. 

He  brought  him  Bacon  (nothing  lean),  165 

Pudding,  that  might  have  pleased  a  Dean ; 
Cheese,  such  as  men  in  Suffolk  make, 
But  wish'd  it  Stilton  for  his  sake ; 
Yet,  to  his  Guest  tho'  no  way  sparing. 
He  ate  himself  the  rind  and  paring.  170 

Our  Courtier  scarce  could  touch  a  bit. 
But  show'd  his  Breeding  and  his  Wit ; 
He  did  his  best  to  seem  to  eat, 
And  cry'd,  "  I  vow  you  're  mighty  neat. 
"  But  Lord,  my  Friend,  this  savage  Scene!  175 

""  For  God's  sake,  come,  and  live  with  Men : 
"  Consider,  Mice,  like  Men,  must  die, 
"  Both  small  and  great,  both  you  and  I : 
^*  Then  spend  your  life  in  Joy  and  Sport, 
"  (This  doctrine,  Friend,  I  learnt  at  Court).'*  180 

The  veriest  Hermit  in  the  Nation 
May  yield,  God  knows,  to  strong  temptation. 
Away  they  come,  thro'  thick  and  thin, 
To  a  tall  house  near  Lincoln's-Inn ; 

('T  was  on  the  night  of  a  Debate,  185 

When  all  their  Lordships  had  sat  late.) 

Behold  the  place,  where  if  a  Poet 
Shin'd  in  Description,  he  might  show  it; 
Tell  how  the  Moon-beam  trembling  falls. 
And  tips  with  Silver  all  the  walls ;  190 

*  [The  City  Mouse  and  Country  Mouse  was  found  by  Warton  in  the  satirical  epigrams  writ- 
written  by  Prior  and  Charies  Montagu  (after-  ten  by  Prior  on  Atterbury.  *  Dan '  is  the  old 
wards  Earl  of  Halifax)  in  1688,  in  ridicule  of  familiar  abbreviation  for  dominus ;  Douglas 
Dryden's  Hind  and  Panther.  The  reason  why  speaks  of*  Dan  Chaucer; '  and  Prior  himself,  in 
Pope  was  so  sparing  in  his  praise  of  Prior,  is  his  Altna^  facetiously  mentions  'Dan  Pope.'] 


458  IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE. 


.} 


Palladian  walls,  Venetian  doors, 

Grotesco  roofs,  and  Stucco  floors: 

But  let  it  (in  a  word)  be  said, 

The  Moon  was  up,  and  Men  a-bed. 

The  Napkins  white,  the  Carpet  red :  J  195 

The  Guests  withdrawn  had  left  the  Treat, 

And  down  the  Mice  sate,  tete-a-tite. 

Our  Courtier  walks  from  dish  to  dish, 
Tastes  for  his  Friend  of  Fowl  and  Fish ; 
Tells  all  their  names,  lays  down  the  law,  200 

"  Que  ga  est  ton  /  Ah  goutez  qa ! 
"  That  Jelly  's  rich,  this  Malmsey  healing, 
"  Pray,  dip  your  Whiskers  and  your  Tail  in." 
Was  ever  such  a  happy  Swain  ? 

He  stuiTs  and  swills,  and  stuffs  again.  205 

"I  'm  quite  ashamM  —  't  is  mighty  rude 
"  To  eat  so  much  —  but  all 's  so  good. 
"  I  have  a  thousand  thanks  to  give  — 
"  My  Lord  alone  knows  how  to  live." 

No  sooner  said,  but  from  the  Hall  .210 

Rush  Chaplain,  Butler,  Dogs  and  all : 
"A  Rat,  a  Rat!  clap  to  the  door"  — 
The  Cat  comes  bouncing  on  the  floor. 
O  for  the  heart  of  Homer's  Mice, 

Or  Gods  to  save  them  in  a  trice!  215 

(It  was  by  Providence  they  think, 
For  your  damn'd  Stucco  has  no  chink.) 
"  An 't  please  your  Honour,  quoth  the  Peasant, 
"  This  same  Dessert  is  not  so  pleasant ; 
"  Give  me  again  my  hollow  Tree,  220 

"A  crust  of  Bread,  and  Liberty! " 

BOOK   IV.     ODE  I. 
To  Venus.i 

AGAIN?  new  Tumults  in  my  breast? 
Ah  spare  me,  Venus!  let  me,  let  me  rest? 
I  am  not  now,  alas!  the  man 

As  in  the  gentle  Reign  of  My  Queen  Anne. 
Ah  sound  no  more  thy  soft  alarms,  5 

Nor  circle  sober  fifty  with  thy  Charms. 
Mother  too  fierce  of  dear  Desires! 

Turn,  turn  to  willing  hearts  your  wanton  fires. 
To  Nnmber  five  ^  direct  your  Doves, 

There  spread  round  Murray  all  your  blooming  Loves ;      10 

1  It  may  be  worth  observing,  that  the  measure         2  xhe  number  of  Murray's  lodgings  In  King's 

Pope  has  here  chosen  is  precisely  the  same  that  Bench  Walks.     Bowles.     [See  Imitations  of 

Ben  Jonson  used  in  a  translation  of  this  very  Horace^  Bk.  i.  Ep.  vi.  49,  note.\ 
Ode.     Warton. 


IMITATIONS   OF  HORACE,  459 

Noble  and  young,  who  strikes  the  heart 

With  evVy  sprightly,  ev^ry  decent  part ; 
Equal,  the  injured  to  defend, 

To  charm  the  Mistress,  or  to  fix  the  Friend. 
He,  with  a  hundred  Arts  refined,  I5 

Shall  stretch  thy  conquests  over  half  the  kind : 
To  him  each  Rival  shall  submit, 

Make  but  his  Riches  equal  to  his  Wit.^ 
Then  shall  thy  Form  the  Marble  grace, 

(Thy  Grecian  Form)  and  Chloe  lend  the  Face :  20 

His  House,  embosomed  in  the  Grove, 

Sacred  to  social  life  and  social  love,^ 
Shall  glitter  o'er  the  pendant  green. 

Where  Thames  reflects  the  visionary  scene : 
Thither,  the  silver-sounding  lyres  25 

Shall  call  the  smiling  Loves,  and  young  Desires ; 
There,  evVy  Grace  and  Muse  shall  throng. 

Exalt  the  dance,  or  animate  the  song ; 
There  Youths  and  Nymphs,  in  concert  gay, 

Shall  hail  the  rising,  close  the  parting  day.  30 

With  me,  alas!  those  joys  are  o'er; 

For  me,  the  vernal  garlands  bloom  no  more. 
Adieu,  fond  hope  of  mutual  fire. 

The  still-believing,  still-renew'd  desire ; 
Adieu,  the  heart-expanding  bowl,  35 

And  all  the  kind  Deceivers  of  the  soul! 
But  why?  ah  tell  me,  ah  too  dear!  ^ 

Steals  down  my  cheek  th'  involuntary  Tear? 
Why  words  so  flowing,  thoughts  so  free, 

Stop,  or  turn  nonsense,  at  one  glance  of  thee?  4^ 

Thee,  drest  in  Fancy's  airy  beam, 

Absent  I  follow  thro'  th'  extended  Dream ; 
Now,  now  I  seize,  I  clasp  thy  charms. 

And  now  you  burst  (ah  cruel!)  from  my  arms; 
And  swiftly  shoot  along  the  Mall,  45 

Or  softly  glide  by  the  Canal, 
Now,  shown  by  Cynthia's  silver  ray, 

And  now,  on  rolling  waters  snatch'd  away. 

PART  OF  THE  NINTH  ODE  OF  THE  FOURTH  BOOK.* 

LEST  you  should  think  that  verse  should  die, 
Which  sounds  the  Silver  Thames  along, 
Taught,  on  the  wings  of  Truth  to  fly 
Above  the  reach  of  vulgar  song  ; 

1  [Lord  Mansfield  is  reported  lo  have  been  in         ^  This  was  in  the  original: 
embarrassed  circumstances  during  the  early  part  *  But  why,  my  Patty,  ah  too  dear*  — 
of  his  career.]  relating  to  Martha  Blount.     Bowles. 

2  This  alludes  to  Mr.  Murray's  intention  at         *  [Viz.  stanzas  i,  2,  3,  7.] 
one  time  of  taking  the  lease  of  Pope's  house  and 

grounds  at  Twickenham,     Bowles. 


46o  EPISTLES, 

Tho'  daring  Milton  sits  sublime,  5 

In  Spenser  native  Muses  play ; 
Nor  yet  shall  Waller  yield  to  time, 

Nor  pensive  Cowley's  moral  lay. 

Sages  and  Chiefs  long  since  had  birth 

Ere  Caesar  was,  or  Newton  nam'd ;  10 

These  rais'd  new  Empires  o'er  the  Earth, 

And  Those,  new  Heav'ns  and  Systems  fram'd. 

Vain  was  the  Chief's,  the  Sage's  pride! 

They  had  no  Poet,  and  they  died. 
In  vain  they  schem'd,  in  vain  they  bled!  I5 

They  had  no  Poet,  and  are  dead. 


EPISTLES. 
EPISTLE 

TO 

ROBERT  EARL  OF  OXFORD,  AND  EARL  MORTIMER.^ 

SUCH  were  the  notes  thy  once-lov'd  Poet  sung, 
'Till  Death  untimely  stopp'd  his  tuneful  tongue. 
Oh  just  beheld,  and-lost!^  admir'd  and  mourn'd! 
With  softest  manners,  gentlest  Arts  adorn'd! 
Blest  in  each  science,  blest  in  ev'ry  strain!  5 

Dear  to  the  Muse!  to  Harley  dear  —  in  vain! 
For  him,  thou  oft  hast  bid  the  World  attend, 
Fond  to  forget  the  statesman  in  the  friend ; 
For  Swift  and  him  despis'd  the  farce  of  state. 
The  sober  follies  of  the  wise  and  great ;  10 

1  Epist.  to  Robert  Earl  of  Oxford^    This  Chancellorship  of  the  Exchequer  by  employing 

Epistle  was  sent  to  the  Earl  of  Oxford  with  Dr.  *  female  intrigue  and  raising  the  cry  of  the  Church 

Pamell's  Poems  published  by  our  Author,  after  in  danger,'  {Mackm'ght.)    He  subsequently  was 

the  said  Earl's  Imprisonment  in  the  Tower,  and  created  Earl  of  Oxford  and  made  Lord  Treasurer; 

Retreat  into   the  Country,   in   the  Year   1721.  audit  was  at  this  time  that  he  principally  availed 

P.     [As  to  Parnell  v.  ante  p.  455.     Robert  Har-  himself  of  the  services  of  Swift  and  his  friends, 

ley,  though  descended  from  a  Puritan  family  and  The   rivalry  between  himself  and  Bolingbroke 

in  the  early  part  of  his  career  an  extreme  Whig,  ended  in   his   downfall   immediately   after    the 

had,  by  a  transition  not  unparalleled  in  political  deathof  Queen  Anne;  in  1716,  he  was  impeached 

history,  become  the  leader  of  the  Country  Party;  for  treasonable  intrigues  with  the  Jacobites  dur- 

and  was  chosen  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Com-  ing  his  tenure  of  power;    and  confined  in  the 

mons  in  1701.     In  1704  he  became  Secretary  of  Tower.     In  1717  the  trial  was  abandoned;  and 

State  in  theGodolphin  Ministry,  and  after  being  he  died  in  retirement  in  1724.] 
expelled  from  office  succeeded  in  obtaining  the         2  [Verg.  y£"«.  vi.  870.] 


EPISTLES.  461 

DextVous  the  craving,  fawning  crowd  to  quit, 
And  pleas'd  to  'scape  from  Flattery  to  Wit. 

Absent  or  dead,  still  let  a  friend  be  dear 
(A  sigh  the  absent  claims,  the  dead  a  tear)  ; 
Recall  those  nights  that  clos'd  thy  toilsome  days ;  15 

Still  hear  thy  Parnell  in  his  living  lays. 
Who,  careless  now  of  Interest,  Fame,  or  Fate, 
Perhaps  forgets  that  Oxford  e'er  was  great ; 
Or,  deeming  meanest  what  we  greatest  call, 
Beholds  thee  glorious  only  in  thy  Fall.  20 

And  sure,  if  aught  below  the  seats  divine 
Can  touch  Immortals,  't  is  a  Soul  like  thine : 
A  Soul  supreme  in  each  hard  instance  try'd. 
Above  all  Pclin,  all  Passion,  and  all  Pride, 
The  rage  of  Pow'r,  the  blast  of  public  breath,  25 

The  lust  of  Lucre,  and  the  dread  of  Death. 

In  vain  to  Deserts  thy  retreat  is  made ; 
The  Muse  attends  thee  to  thy  silent  shade : 
'T  is  hers,  the  brave  man's  latest  steps  to  trace, 
Rejudge  his  acts,  and  dignify  disgrace.  30 

When  Int'rest  calls  off  all  her  sneaking  train, 
And  all  th'  oblig'd  desert,  and  all  the  vain ; 
She  waits,  or  to  the  scaffold,  or  the  cell, 
When  the  last  ling'ring  friend  has  bid  farewell. 
Ev'n  now,  she  shades  thy  Ev'ning-walk  with  bays  35 

(No  hireling  she,  no  prostitute  to  praise)  ; 
Ev'n  now,  observant  of  the  parting  Ray, 
Eyes  the  calm  Sun-set  of  thy  various  Day, 
Thro'  Fortune's  cloud  one  truly  great  can  see, 
Nor  fears  to  tell,  that  Mortimer  is  he.  40 


EPISTLE   TO  JAMES   CRAGGS,i  EsQ. 

SECRETARY  OF   STATE. ^ 

A  SOUL  as  full  of  Worth,  as  void  of  Pride, 
Which  nothing  seeks  to  shew,  or  needs  to  hide, 
Which  nor  to  Guilt  nor  Fear,  its  Caution  owes, 
And  boasts  a  Warmth  that  from  no  Passion  flows. 
A  Face  untaught  to  feign  ;  a  judging  Eye, 
That  darts  severe  upon  a  rising  Lie, 
And  strikes  a  blush  thro'  frontless  Flattery. 

1  James  Craggs  was  made  Secretary  at  War  Pope) ;    but  his  death  in  1721  saved  him  from 

in  1717,  when  the  Earl  of  Sunderland  and  Mr.  the  exposure  with  which  he  was  threatened.     He 

Addison  were  appointed   Secretaries   of  State,  was  a  frequent  correspondent  of  Pope's  during 

Bowles.     [He  succeeded  Addison  in  the  latter  the  years  from  171 1  to  1719;  and  is  celebrated 

office  in  1720,  and  to  him  Addison  dedicated  his  by  Gay  as  'bold  generous  Craggs  whose  heart 

works  in  the  last  letter  which  he  ever  composed,  was   ne'er  disguised.'      Compare  Epitaph   iv. 

Craggs  was  afterwards  involved  in  the  South  in/ra.'\ 
Sea  speculations  (concerning  which  he  advised         ^  Secretary  0/ State. ^    In  the  year  1790.    P. 


462  EPISTLES. 

All  this  thou  wert,  and  being  this  before, 

Know,  Kings  and  Fortune  cannot  make  thee  more. 

Then  scorn  to  gain  a  Friend  by  servile  ways,  lo 

Nor  wish  to  lose  a  Foe  these  Virtues  raise ; 

But  candid,  free,  sincere,  as  you  began, 

Proceed,  —  a  Minister,  but  still  a  Man. 

Be  not,  exalted  to  whatever  degree, 

Asham'd  of  any  Friend,  not  ev'n  of  Me  :  15 

The  Patriot's  plain,  but  untrod,  path  pursue ; 

If  not,  't  is  I  must  be  ashamed  of  You. 


EPISTLE   TO   MR.   JERVAS,i  WITH   MR.    DRYDEN'S   TRANS- 
LATION  OF   FRESNOY'S   ART   OF   PAINTING. 

THIS  Verse  be  thine,  my  friend,  nor  thou  refuse 
This,  from  no  venal  or  ungrateful  Muse. 
Whether  thy  hand  strike  out  some  free  design. 
Where  Life  awakes,  and  dawns  at  evVy  line ; 
Or  blend  in  beauteous  tints  the  coloured  mass,  5 

And  from  the  canvas  call  the  mimic  face : 
Read  these  instructive. leaves,  in  which  conspire 
Fresnoy's  close  Art,  and  Dryden's  native  Fire :  ^ 
And  reading  wish,  like  theirs,  our  fate  and  fame, 
So  mix'd  our  studies,  and  so  join'd  our  name ;  lo 

Like  them  to  shine  thro'  long  succeeding  age, 
So  just  thy  skill,  so  regular  my  rage. 

Smit  with  the  love  of  Sister-Arts  we  came, 
And  met  congenial,  mingling  flame  with  flame ; 
Like  friendly  colours  found  them  both  unite,  15 

And  each  from  each  contract  new  strength  and  light. 
How  oft  in  pleasing  tasks  we  wear  the  day. 
While  summer-suns  roll  unperceiv'd  away ; 
How  oft  our  slowly-growing  works  impart. 
While  Images  reflect  from  art  to  art ;  20 

How  oft  review ;  each  finding  like  a  friend 
Something  to  blame,  and  something  to  commend! 

What  flattering  scenes  our  wandVing  fancy  wrought, 
Rome's  pompous  glories  rising  to  our  thought! 
Together  o'er  the  Alps  methinks  we  fly,  25 

Fir'd  with  Ideas  of  fair  Italy. 

'^  Epist.  to  Mr.  Jervas.'l  This  Epistle,  and  is  spoken  slightingly  of  by  Horace  Walpole. 
the  two  following,  were  written  some  years  be-  He  is  also,  says  Roscoe,  well  known  by  his  ex- 
fore  the  rest,  and  originally  printed  in  1717.  P.  cellent  translation  of  Don  Quixote.] 
[Charles  Jervas  was  an  early  and  intimate  friend  2  [Dq  Fresnoy's  yiW  of  Painting,  hastily 
of  Pope's,  and  instructed  him  in  painting  about  turned  into  English  by  Dryden  as  a  piece  o£ 
the  year  1713.  Three  years  later  we  find  Pope  hack  work,  was  afterwards  more  elaborately 
occupying  the  painter's  house  during  the  absence  translated  by  Mason,  who  was  himself  a  pro- 
of the  latter  from  London.    As  a  painter,  Jervas  ficient  in  the  art.] 


EPISTLES,  463 

With  thee,  on  Raphael's  Monument  I  mourn, 

Or  wait  inspiring  Dreams  at  Maro's  Urn : 

With  thee  repose,  where  Tully  once  was  laid, 

Or  seek  some  Ruin's  formidable  shade :  30 

While  fancy  brings  the  vanished  piles  to  view, 

And  builds  imaginary  Rome  anew ; 

Here  thy  well-study'd  marbles  fix  our  eye ; 

A  fading  Fresco  here  demands  a  sigh  : 

Each  heav'nly  piece  unwearied  we  compare,  35 

Match  Raphael's  grace  with  thy  lov'd  Guido's^  air, 

Caracci's  strength,'^  Correggio's  softer  line, 

Paulo's  ^  free  stroke,  and  Titian's  warmth  divine. 

How  finish'd  with  illustrious  toil  appears 
This  small,  well-polish'd  Gem,  the  work  of  years!*  40 

Yet  still  how  faint  by  precept  is  exprest 
The  living  image  in  the  painter's  breast! 
Thence  endless  streams  of  fair  Ideas  flow, 
Strike  in  the  sketch,  or  in  the  picture  glow ; 
Thence  Beauty,  waking  all  her  forms,  supplies  45 

An  Angel's  sweetness,  or  Bridgewater's  eyes.^ 

Muse!  at  that  Name  thy  sacred  sorrows  shed. 
Those  tears  eternal,  that  embalm  the  dead : 
Call  round  her  Tomb  each  object  of  desire, 
Each  purer  frame  inform'd  with  purer  fire  :  50 

Bid  her  be  all  that  cheers  or  softens  life. 
The  tender  sister,  daughter,  friend,  and  wife : 
Bid  her  be  all  that  makes  mankind  adore ; 
Then  view  this  Marble,  and  be  vain  no  more! 

Yet  still  her  charms  in  breathing  paint  engage ;  55 

Her  modest  cheek  shall  warm  a  future  age. 
Beauty,  frail  flow'r  that  ev'ry  season  fears, 
Blooms  in  thy  colours  for  a  thousand  years. 
Thus  Churchill's  race  shall  other  hearts  surprise,^ 
And  other  Beauties- envy  Worsley's  eyes  ;  '^  60 

*  [Guido  Reni.]  who  accused  herself  at  his  expense,  was  the 

2  By  Caracci's  strength,  Pope  probably  meant  most  beautiful  of  the  four  sisters.  She  died 
to  refer  to  Annibale  Caracci  only;  the  most  dis-  March  1714,  aged  27.  Bowles.  [Pope  in  a 
tinguished  of  the  three  brothers  (A.,  Agostino  letter  to  Gay,  August  23rd,  1713,  quoted  in  Car- 
and  Ludovico)  for  his  knowledge  of  the  human  ruthers'  Life^  speaking  of  his  own  attempts, 
figure.     Roscoe.  says  that  he  has  thrown  away  among  other  por- 

3  [Paola  Veronese.]  traits,  *  two  Lady  Bridgewaters  and  a  Duchess 

*  Fresnoy  employed  about  twenty  Years  in  of  Montagu.'  In  a  fragment  of  Pope's  published 
finishing  his  Poem.     P.  in  Roscoe's  Supplement  (1825)  the  fair  Bridge- 

s  [See  next  note.]  water  and  Jcrvas  are  compared  to  Campaspe  and 

^  Churchill's    race  were    the   four  beautiful  Apelles.] 
daughters  of  John  the  great  Duke  of  Marlbor-         ^  Frances  Lady  Worsley,  wife  of  Sir  Robert 

ough:  Henrietta,  Countess  of  Godolphin,  after-  Worsley,  Bart.,  mother  of  Lady  Carteret,  wife 

wards  duchess  of  Marlborough ;  Anne  Countess  of  John  Lord  Carteret,  afterwards  Earl  Granville, 

of  Sunderland;  Elizabeth  Countess  of  Bridge-  Warton.     This  name  originally  stood  Wortley ; 

water;  and  Mary,  Duchess  of  Montagu.     Their  but  the  compliment  was  transferred  from  her 

portraits  are  at  Blenheim.     Lady  Bridgewater,  after  her  quarrel  with  Pope  by  the  alteration  ol 

whom  Jervas  affected  to  be  in  love  with,  and  a  single  letter.     Carruthers. 


464  EPISTLES. 

Each  pleasant  Blount  shall  endless  smiles  bestow,* 
And  soft  Belinda^s  blush  for  ever  glow.^ 

Oh  lasting  as  those  Colours  may  they  shine, 
Free  as  thy  stroke,  yet  faultless  as  thy  line ; 
New  graces  yearly  like  thy  works  display,  65 

Soft  without  weakness,  without  glaring  gay ; 
Led  by  some  rule,  that  guides,  but  not  constrains ; 
And  finished  more  thro'  happiness  than  pains. 
The  kindred  Arts  shall  in  their  praise  conspire ; 
One  dip  the  pencil,  and  one  string  the  lyre.  70 

Yet  should  the  Graces  all  thy  figures  place, 
And  breathe  an  air  divine  on  evVy  face ; 
Yet  should  the  Muses  bid  my  numbers  roll 
Strong  as  their  charms,  and  gentle  as  their  soul ; 
With  Zeuxis'  Helen  thy  Bridgewater  vie,  75 

And  these  be  sung  'till  Granville's  Mira  die ;  * 
Alas!  how  little  from  the  grave  we  claim! 
Thou  but  preserv'st  a  Face,  and  I  a  Name. 


EPISTLE  TO  MISS   BLOUNT,^  WITH  THE  WORKS  OF 
V0ITURE.6 

IN  these  gay  thoughts  the  Loves  and  Graces  shine, 
And  all  the  Writer  lives  in  ev'ry  line ; 
His  easy  Art  may  happy  Nature  seem, 
Trifles  themselves  are  elegant  in  him. 

Sure  to  charm  all  was  his  peculiar  fate,  5 

Who  without  flatt'ry  pleased  the  fair  and  great ; 
Still  with  esteem  no  less  conversed  than  read ; 
With  wit  well-natur'd,  and  with  books  well-bred : 
His  heart,  his  mistress,  and  his  friend  did  share, 
His  time,  the  Muse,  the  witty,  and  the  fair.  lo 

Thus  wisely  careless,  innocently  gay. 
Cheerful  he  play'd  the  trifle.  Life,  away ; 
Till  fate  scarce  felt  his  gentle  breath  supprest, 
As  smiling  Infants  sport  themselves  to  rest. 
Ev'n  rival  Wits  did  Voiture's  death  deplore,  15 

And  the  gay  mourn'd  who  never  mourned  before ; 
The  truest  hearts  for  Voiture  heav'd  with  sighs, 
Voiture  was  wept  by  all  the  brightest  Eyes : 

1  [Martha  Blount.]  ^  [Vincent  Voiture  (1598-1648),  one  of  the 

'  [Miss  Arabella  Fermor,  the  heroine  of  the  chief  ornaments  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet  (the 

Rape  of  the  Lock.]  centre  of  the  society  of  the  so-called  precieux 

3  [See  Windsor  Forest,  v.  298.]  and  pricieuses  at  Paris  under  the   regency  of 

*  [Miss  Teresa  Blount,      See  Introductory  Mary  de'  Medici).     'His   great  merit,' says  a 

Memoir,  p.  xxx.     This  Epistle  was  first  pub-  modern  French  critic  (M.  Masson),  '  consists  in 

lished  in  Lintofs  Miscellany  in  1712;    so  that  the  inexhaustible  variety  of  forms  which  he  ap- 

Pope's  note  {ante^  p.  462)  is  not  accurate.]  plies  to  a  monotonous  sterility  of  ideas.'] 


EPISTLES,  465 

The  Smiles  and  Loves  had  died  in  Voiture's  death. 

But  that  for  ever  in  his  lines  they  breathe.  20 

Let  the  strict  life  of  graver  mortals  be 
A  long,  exact,  and  serious  Comedy ; 
In  ev'ry  scene  some  Moral  let  it  teach, 
And,  if  it  can,  at  once  both  please  and  preach. 
Let  mine,  an  innocent  gay  farce  appear,^  25 

And  more  diverting  still  than  regular, 
Have  Humour,  Wit,  a  native  Ease  and  Grace, 
Tho'  not  too  strictly  bound  to  Time  and  Place : 
Critics  in  Wit,  or  Life,  are  hard  to  please. 
Few  v^rite  to  those,  and  none  can  live  to  these.  30 

Too  much  your  Sex  is  by  their  forms  confined, 
•   Severe  to  all,  but  most  to  Womankind  ; 
Custom,  grown  blind  with  Age,  must  be  your  guide ; 
Your  pleasure  is  a  vice,  but  not  your  pride ; 
By  Nature  yielding,  stubborn  but  for  fame ;  35 

Made  Slaves  by  honour,  and  made  Fools  by  shame, 
Marriage  may  all  those  petty  Tyrants  chase, 
But  sets  up  one,  a  greater,  in  their  place ; 
Well  might  you  wish  for  change  by  those  accurst, 
But  the  last  Tyrant  ever  proves  the  worst.  40 

Still  in  constraint  your  suff'ring  Sex  remains, 
Or  bound  in  formal,  or  in  real  chains  : 
Whole  years  neglected,  for  some  months  ador'd, 
The  fawning  Servant  turns  a  haughty  Lord. 
Ah  quit  not  the  free  innocence  of  life,  45 

For  the  dull  glory  of  a  virtuous  Wife ; 
Nor  let  false  Shows,  or  empty  Titles  please : 
Aim  not  at  Joy,  but  rest  content  with  Ease. 

The  Gods,  to  curse  Pamela  with  her  pray'rs, 
Gave  the  gilt  Coach  and  dappled  Flanders  Mares,  50 

The  shining  robes,  rich  jewels,  beds  of  state, 
And,  to  complete  her  bliss,  a  Fool  for  Mate. 
She  glares  in  Balls,  front  Boxes,  and  the  Ring, 
A  vain,  unquiet,  glittering,  wretched  Thing! 
Pride,  Pomp,  and  State  but  reach  her  outward  part ;  55 

She  sighs,  and  is  no  Duchess  at  her  heart. 

But,  Madam,  if  the  fates  withstand,  and  you 
Are  destined  Hymen's  willing  Victim  too ; 
Trust  not  too  much  your  now  resistless  charms. 
These,  Age  or  Sickness,  soon  or  late  disarms :  60 

Good  humour  only  teaches  charms  to  last, 
Still  makes  new  conquests,  and  maintains  the  past ; 
Love,  rais'd  on  Beauty,  will  like  that  decay, 
Our  hearts  may  bear  its  slender  chain  a  day ; 

^[Aniomo.      I  hold  the  world  but  as  the         Gratiano.         Let  me  play  the  fool,  &c. 
world,  Gratiano;  Merchant  qf  Venice, KoX  i.  Sc.  i.] 

A  stage  where  every  man  must  play  a  part. 
And  mine  a  sad  one. 
2H 


^66  EPISTLES, 

As  flow'ry  bands  in  wantonness  are  worn,  65 

A  morning's  pleasure,  and  at  evening  torn ; 
This  binds  in  ties  more  easy,  yet  more  strong, 
The  willing  heart,  and  only  holds  it  long. 

Thus  Voiture's  ^  early  care  still  shone  the  same, 
And  Montausier^  was  only  changM  in  name :  70 

By  this,  ev'n  now  they  live,  ev'n  now  they  charm. 
Their  Wit  still  sparkling,  and  their  flames  still  warm. 

Now  crown'd  with  Myrtle,  on  th'  Elysian  coast. 
Amid  those  Lovers,  joys  his  gentle  Ghost : 
Pleas'd,  while  with  smiles  his  happy  lines  you  view,  75 

And  finds  a  fairer  Rambouillet  in  you. 
The  brightest  eyes  of  France  inspir'd  his  Muse ; 
The  brightest  eyes  of  Britain  now  peruse ; 
And  dead,  as  living,  't  is  our  Author's  pride 
Still  to  charm  those  who  charm  the  world  beside.  80 


EPISTLES  TO  THE    SAME,   ON   HER   LEAVING  THE   TOWN 
AFTER  THE   CORONATION.^ 

AS  some  fond  Virgin,  whom  her  mother's  care 
Drags  from  the  Town  to  wholesome  Country  air, 
Just  when  she  learns  to  roll  a  melting  eye. 
And  hear  a  spark,  yet  think  no  danger  nigh ; 
From  the  dear  man  unwilling  she  must  sever,  5 

Yet  takes  one  kiss  before  she  parts  for  ever : 
Thus  from  the  world  fair  Zephalinda  ^  flew, 
Saw  others  happy,  and  with  sighs  withdrew ; 
Not  that  their  Pleasures  caus'd  her  discontent. 
She  sigh'd  not  that  they  stay'd,  but  that  she  went.  10 

She  went,  to  plain-work,  and  to  purUng  brooks, 
Old  fashion'd  halls,  dull  Aunts,  and  croaking  rooks : 
She  went  from  Op'ra,  Park,  Assembly,  Play, 
To  morning-walks,  and  pray'rs  three  hours  a  day ; 
To  part  her  time 'twixt  reading  and  bohea ;  15 

To  muse,  and  spiil  her  solitary  tea  ; 
Or  o'er  cold  coffee  trifle  with  the  spoon. 
Count  the  slow  clock,  and  dine  exact  at  noon ; 
Divert  her  eyes  with  pictures  in  the  fire, 

1  Mademoiselle  Paulet.    P.  *  Coronatzon.']     Of  King  George  the  first, 

2  [The  Duke  of  Montausier,  governor  to  the  1715.  P.  [Really,  Oct.  20,  1714.  Am.  Ed.] 
Dauphin  son  of  Louis  xiv.,  married  Mdlle.  de  ^  The  assumed  name  of  Teresa  Blount,  under 
Rambouillet.  He  was  believed  to  have  been  which  she  corresponded  for  many  years  with  a 
the  original  of  Moli^re's  Misanthrope. "]  Mr,  Moore,  under  the  feigned  name  of  Alexis. 

3  [This  Epistle  is  cited  by  M.  Taine  {Lit.  Bowles.  [James  Moore  Smythe.]  Originally, 
Angl.  IV.  c.  7)  to  exemplify  the  realistic  ele-  according  to  Warburton  (cited  from  Ruffhead  by 
ment  which,  according  to  his  theory,  was  no  Carruthers) : 

more  absent  from  Pope  than  from  any  of  the  *  So  fair  Teresa  gave  the  town  a  view.' 

contemporary  English  poets.] 


EPISTLES,  467 

Hum  half  a  tune,  tell  stories  to  the  squire ;  20 

Up  to  her  godly  garret  after  sev'n, 

There  starve  and  pray,  for  that 's  the  way  to  heav'n.^ 

Some  Squire,  perhaps  you  take  delight  to  rack ; 
Whose  game  is  Whisk,^  whose  treat  a  toast  in  sack  ; 
Who  visits  with  a  Gun,  presents  you  birds,  25 

Then  gives  a  smacking  buss,  and  cries,  — '  No  words  ! ' 
Or  with  his  hound  comes  hollowing  from  the  stable, 
Makes  love  with  nods,  and  knees  beneath  a  table ; 
Whose  laughs  are  hearty,  tho'  his  jests  are  coarse, 
And  loves  you  best  of  all  things  —  but  his  horse.  30 

In  some  fair  ev'ning,  on  your  elbow  laid, 
You  dream  of  Triumphs  in  the  rural  shade ; 
In  pensive  thought  recall  the  fancy'd  scene, 
See  Coronations  rise  on  ev'ry  green ; 

Before  you  pass  th'  imaginary  sights  35 

Of  Lords,  and  Earls,  and  Dukes,  and  garter'd  Knights, 
While  the  spread  fan  o'ershades  your  closing  eyes ; 
Then  give  one  flirt,  and  all  the  vision  flies. 
Thus  vanish  sceptres,  coronets,  and  balls. 
And  leave  you  in  lone  woods,  or  empty  walls!  40 

So  when  your  Slave,  at  some  dear  idle  time, 
(Not  plagu'd  with  head-aches,  or  the  want  of  rhyme,) 
Stands  in  thfe  streets,  abstracted  from  the  crew. 
And  while  he  seems  to  study,  thinks  of  you ; 
Just  when  his  fancy  points  your  sprightly  eyes,  45 

Or  sees  the  blush  of  soft  Parthenia  ^  rise. 
Gay  pats  my  shoulder,  and  you  vanish  quite, 
Streets,  Chairs,  and  Coxcombs,  rush  upon  my  sight ; 
Vex'd  to  be  still  in  town,  I  knit  my  brow, 
Look  sour,  and  hum  a  Tune,  as  you  may  now.  50 


ON  RECEIVING  FROM   THE 

RIGHT   HON.  THE  LADY   FRANCES  SHIRLEY 
A  Standish  and  Two  Pens."* 

YES,  I  beheld  th'  Athenian  Queen  ^ 
Descend  in  all  her  sober  charms  ; 
*'  And  take,"  (she  said,  and  smiPd  serene,) 
"  Take  at  this  hand  celestial  arms  : 

1  [Sheridan  may  have  remembered  this  pas-  ^  jn  the  first  edition  it  is  *  the  blush  of  Par- 
sage,  when  writing  the  famous  scene  between  thenissa,*  which  was  the  principal  designation 
Sir  Peter  and  Lady  Teazle,  School  for  Scandal,  of  Martha  Blount  in  the  correspondence  of  the 
Act  II.  Sc.  I.]  sisters  with  James  Moore.     Carruthers. 

2  [According  to  Dr.  Johnson,  the  word  whist  *  To  enter  into  the  spirit  of  this  address,  it  is 
was  vulgarly  pronounced  whtsk.'\  necessary  to  premise,  that  the  Poet  was  thrcat- 

8  [Pallas  Athene.] 


46$  EPISTLES. 

"  Secure  the  radiant  weapons  wield ;  5 

"  This  golden  lance  shall  guard  Desert, 

"  And  if  a  Vice  dares  keep  the  field, 
"  This  steel  shall  stab  it  to  the  heart." 

Aw'd,  on  my  bended  knees  I  fell, 

Received  the  weapons  of  the  sky ;  10 

And  dipt  them  in  the  sable  Well, 

The  fount  of  Fame  or  Infamy. 

*  What  well?  what  weapons  f  (Flavia  cries,) 

*A  standish,  steel  and  golden  pen! 

*  It  came  from  Bertrand's,^  not  the  skies ;  15 

'  I  gave  it  you  to  write  again. 

*  But,  Friend,  take  heed  whom  you  attack ; 

^  You  '11  bring  a  House  (I  mean  of  Peers) 

*  Red,  Blue,  and  Green,  nay  white  and  black, 

^  L and  all  about  your  ears.^  20 

*  You  M  write  as  smooth  again  on  glass, 

'  And  run,  on  ivory,  so  glib, 
<  As  not  to  stick  at  fool  or  ass, 
*Nor  stop  at  Flattery  or  Fib.^     • 

^Athenian  Queen  I  2ind  sober  charms !  25 

*  I  tell  ye,  fool,  there  's  nothing  in  't : 

*  'T  is  Venus,  Venus  gives  these  arms ; 

*  In  Dry  den's  Virgil  see  the  print.* 

*  Come,  if  you  '11  be  a  quiet  soul, 

*  That  dares  tell  neither  Truth  nor  Lies,^  30 

*  I  '11  lift  you  in  the  harmless  roll 

'  Of  those  that  sing  of  these  poor  eyes.' 

cned  with  a  prosecution  in  the  House  of  Lords,  standing  her  numerous  admirers,  she  died  at 
for  the  two  poems  entitled  the  Epilogue  to  the  Bath,  unmarried,  in  the  year  1762.  Bowles. 
Satires.  On  which  with  great  resentment  [Bowles  thinks  the  Third  Dialogue  alluded  to 
against  his  enemies,  for  not  being  willing  to  by  Warburton  to  be  the  fragment  '1740'  dis- 
distinguish  between  covered  after  Pope's  death  among  his  papers  by 
*  Grave  epistles  bringing  vice  to  light'  Bolingbroke;  but  there  is  no  evidence  to  sup- 
and  licentious  libels,  he  began  a  Third  Dia-  port  this  plausible  conjecture.] 
logue,  more  severe  and  sublime  than  the  first  ^  A  famous  toy-shop  at  Bath.  Warburton. 
and  second;  which  being  no  secret,  matters  2  Lambeth;  alluding  to  the  Scandal  hinted 
were  soon  compromised.  His  enemies  agreed  at  in  Epil.  to  Satires,  Dial.  i.  v.  120.  Car- 
ta drop   the   prosecution,  and  he  promised   to  ruthers. 

leave  the   third  Dialogue   unfinished  and   sup-  ^  fhe  Dunciad.     Warburton. 

pressed.       This    affair    occasioned    this    little  *  The  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot.     Warburton. 

beautiful   poem,  to  which    it   alludes   through-  ^  J  e.     If  you  have   neither  the   courage   to 

out,  but  more  especially  in  the  four  last  stan-  write  Satire,  nor  the  application  to  attempt  an 

zas.     Warburton.     Lady  Frances  Shirley  was  Epic  poem.     He  was  then  meditating  on  such 

fourth   daughter  of  Earl   Ferrers,  who  had  at  a  work.     Warburton* 
that  time  a  house  at  Twickenham.    Notwith- 


EPITAPHS.  469 


EPITAPHS. 

*  His  saltern  accumulem  donis,  et  fungar  inani 
Munere! '  Virg.  \_^n.  vii.  w.  88$,  6.] 

[No  observations  would  be  called  for  upon  these  Epitaphs,  composed  at  different 
periods  of  Pope's  life,  were  it  not  that  they  were  subjected  to  a  minute,  and  indeed  a 
petty,  criticism  by  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Dissertation  on  the  Epitaphs  -written  by  Pope 
(contributed  to  a  paper  called  the  Universal  Visitor  in  1756,  and  afterwards  thought 
worthy  of  republication  in  the  Idler') .  Johnson's  criticisms,  though  occasionally  just,  are 
in  this  instance  too  thoroughly  in  the  Ricardus  Aristarchus  style  to  need  quotation.  Per- 
haps the  most  pointed  is  that  on  the  Epitaph  on  Rowe,  concerning  which  Johnson  re- 
marks that '  its  chief  fault  is  that  it  belongs  less  to  Rowe  than  to  Dryden,  and  indeed 
gives  very  little  information  concerning  either.'  The  Epitaph  on  Newton,  (which  he 
afterwards  declared  to  Mrs.  Piozzi  to  be  little  less  than  profane,  as  designed  for  the 
tomb  of  a  Christian  in  a  Christian  Church,)  the  Dissertation  condemned  because  '  the 
thought  is  obvious,  and  the  words  night  and  light  too  nearly  allied ! '  Johnson  after- 
wards remembered  (Hay  ward's  Autobiography,  &>c.  of  Mrs.  Piozzi,  II.  p.  159)  'that 
something  like  this  was  said  of  Aristotle,'  but  '  he  forgot  by  whom.'  Pope's  Epitaphs 
—  with  the  exception  of  the  charming  lines  on  Gay  —  only  rise  above  the  ordinary  level 
of  this  class  of  composition,  because  that  level  is  so  extremely  low,] 


I. 

ON  CHARLES  EARL  OF  DORSET, 

In  the  Church  of  Withyam  in  Sussex.l 
(1706.) 

DORSET,  the  Grace  of  the  Courts,  the  Muses'  Pride, 
Patron  of  Arts,  and  Judge  of  Nature,  died. 
The  scourge  of  Pride,  tho^  sanctify'd  or  great, 
Of  Fops  in  Learning,  and  of  Knaves  in  State : 
Yet  soft  his  Nature,  tho'  severe  his  Lay ;  J 

His  Anger  moral,  and  his  Wisdom  gay. 
Blest  Satirist !  who  touch'd  the  Mean  so  true, 
As  showM,  Vice  had  his  hate  and  pity  too. 
Blest  Courtier!  who  could  King  and  Country  please, 
Yet  sacred  keep  his  Friendships,  and  his  Ease.  10 

Blest  Peer!  his  great  Forefathers'  ev'ry  grace 
Reflecting,  and  reflected  in  his  Race ; 
Where  other  Buckhursts,*^  other  Dorsets  shine. 
And  Patriots  still,  or  Poets,  deck  the  Line. 

1  [As  to  Dorset,  cf.  hnitations  of  English  Dorset,  was  a  prominent  Royalist  in  the  first 
Po'ets  in  Juvenile  Poems,  p.  186.]  part  of  the  Civil  war,  and  was,  according  to 

2  [Thomas  Sackville,  first  Lord  Buckhurst  Clarendon,  distinguished  for  his  wit  and  learn- 
and  first  Earl  of  Dorset,  author  of  the  Mirror  ing.  His  grandson  is  the  subject  of  Pope's 
for  Magistrates,  and  GorboduCy  the  first  Eng-  epitaph.] 

lish  tragedy,  died   in   1608.     Edward,  Earl  of 


470  EPITAPHS. 

II. 

ON   SIR  WILLIAM   TRUMBAL, 

One  of  the  Principal  Secretaries  of  State  to  King  William  III.  who  having  resigned 
his  Place,  died  in  his  Retirement  at  Easthamstead  in  Berkshire,  1716.1 

A  PLEASING  Form ;  a  firm,  yet  cautious  Mind ; 
Sincere,  tho'  prudent ;  constant,  yet  resigned : 
Honour  unchangM,  a  Principle  profest, 
Fix'd  to  one  side,  but  modVate  to  the  rest : 

An  honest  Courtier,  yet  a  Patriot  too ;  5 

Just  to  his  Prince,  and  to  his  Country  true : 
FilPd  with  the  Sense  of  Age,  the  Fire  of  Youth, 
A  Scorn  of  wrangling,  yet  a  Zeal  for  Truth ; 
A  gen'rous  Faith,  from  superstition  free ; 

A  love  to  Peace,  and  hate  of  Tyranny  ;  10 

Such  this  Man  was ;  who  now,  from  earth  remov'd, 
At  length  enjoys  that  Liberty  he  lov'd. 


III. 

ON   THE   HON.    SIMON   HARCOURT, 

Only  Son  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  H arcourt  ;  at  the  Church  of  Stanton-Harcourt  in 

Oxfordshire,  1720. 

nrV3  this  sad  shrine,  whoe'er  thou  art !  draw  near ; 
X     Here  lies  the  Friend  most  lov'd,  the  Son  most  dear ; 
Who  ne'er  knew  Joy,  but  Friendship  might  divide, 
.Or  gave  his  Father  Grief  but  when  he  died.^ 

How  vain  is  Reason,  Eloquence  how  weak!  5 

If  Pope  must  tell  what  Harcourt  cannot  speak. 
Oh  let  thy  once-lov'd  Friend  inscribe  thy  Stone, 
And,  with  a  Father's  sorrows,  mix  his  own! 

1  [As  to  Sir  William  Trumball,  see  note  to    on  Caryll  being  inserted  in  the  Epistle  to  Jer- 
p.  10.]     The  first  six  lines  of  this  epitaph  were    vas.    AthencBunt,  July  15th,  1854. 
originally  written  for  John  Lord  Caryll,  after-         ^  These  were  the  very  words  used  by  Louis 
wards    Secretary   of  State  to  the  exiled    king    XIV.,  when  his  Queen  died,  1683;  though  it  is 
James  II.;   the  remainder  of  the  same  epitaph    not  to  be  imagined  they  were  copied  by  Pope. 

Warton. 


EPITAPHS,  471 


IV. 
ON  JAMES  CRAGGS,  ESQ. 

In  Westminster  Abbey .1 

JACOBUS    CRAGGS 

REGI   MAGN^  BRITANNI^E  A  SECRETIS 

ET  CONSILIIS   SANCTIORIBUS, 

PRINCIPIS  PARITER  AC   POPULI  AMOR   ET  DELICLE : 

VIXIT  TITULIS   ET  INVIDIA  MAJOR 

ANNOS,   HEU  PAUCOS,   XXXV. 

OB.  FEB.  XVI.  MDCCXX. 

Statesman,  yet  Friend  to  Truth !  of  Soul  sincere, 

In  Action  faithful,  and  in  Honour  clear! 

Who  broke  no  Promise,  servM  no  private  End ; 

Who  gain'd  no  Title,  and  who  lost  no  Friend ; 

Ennobled  by  Himself,  by  All  approv'd ; 

Prais'd,  wept,  and  honoured,  by  the  Muse  he  lov'd.^ 

V. 
INTENDED   FOR  MR.   ROWE, 

In  Westminster  Abbey .3 

THY  relics,  Rowe,  to  this  fair  Urn  we  trust, 
And  sacred,  place  by  Dryden's  awful  dust : 
Beneath  a  rude  *  and  nameless  stone  he  lies. 
To  which  thy  Tomb  shall  guide  enquiring  eyes.^ 

1  [As  to  Craggs,  v.  ante,  p.  453.     Horace     7>%z!r  Sheffield  razVdT.     The  sacred  Dust  be- 
Walpole  sent  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  a  very  ill-  low 

natured  epitaph   on   the  same   Craggs,   whose  Was  Dryden  once :    The  rest  who  does  not 

father  had  been  a  footman;  *  Here  lies  the  last,  know? 

who  died  before  the  first  of  his  family.'   {Jesse.-)  ^^i^h  the  Author  since  changed  into  the  plain 
As  Craggs's  death  alone  arrested  the  enquiry  inscription  now  upon  it,  being  only  the  name  of 
into  the  charge  of  peculation  brought  against  ^^^  great  Poet, 
him  in  connexion  with  the   South  Sea  frauds  j    t^-dydFN 
(his   father    committing  suicide  shortly  after- 
wards) the  praise  in  the  third  line  of  Pope's  Natus  Aug.  9,  1631.    Mortuus  Maij.  i,  1700. 
Epitaph  is  singularly  bold.]  JOANNES    Sheffield    dux    buckinghamiensis 

2  These  verses  were  originally  the  conclusion  posuit.                                 P. 

of  the  Epistle  to  Mr.  Addison  on  his  Dialogue  6  [Xhe  above  epitaph  was  subsequently  altered 

on  Medals,  and  were  adopted  as  an  Epitaph  by  by  Pope,  the  following  lines  being  added: 

an  alteration  in  the  last  line,  which  in  the  £^z'ji?/^         ,  t>         ..    ..v  ..i      u  j         j      ji  *i 

'  -^  '  Peace  to  thy  gentle  shade,  and  endless  rest! 

s  ood—  ,     ,,        1     1     ,j  .  Blest  in  thy  Genius,  in  thy  Love  too  blest! 

And  prais  d  unenvied  by  the  Muse  he  lov  d.  ^  .  r  1  iir  ..    ^u    r  i- 

^  7?  r  f  ^  ^"^^  grateful  Woman  to  thy  fame  supplies 

^o^'^oeyc^.y.  271  J.  ^^^^  ^  ^^^j^  thankless  land  to  his  denies.' 

3  [As  to  Rowe,  see  note  to  Epil.  to  Jane 

Shore,  p.  97.]  But  further  alterations  and  additions  were  made 

*  Beneath  a  rude'\  The  Tomb  of  Mr.  Dry-  in  the  inscription,  until  it  read  as  it  now  stands 

den  was  erected  upon  this  hint  by  the  Duke  of  on  the  monument  in    Westminster  Abbey  to 

Buckingham;  to  which  was  originally  intended  Rowe  and  his  daughter.] 
this  Epitaph, 


472  EPITAPHS. 

VI. 
ON  MRS.  CORBET, 

Who  died  of  a  Cancer  in  her  Breast.l 

HERE  rests  a  Woman,  good  without  pretence, 
Blest  with  plain  Reason  and  with  sober  Sense : 
No  Conquests  she,  but  o'er  herself,  desir'd, 
No  Arts  essay'd,  but  not  to  be  admir'd. 

Passion  and  Pride  were  to  her  soul  unknown,  5 

Convinced  that  Virtue  only  is  our  own. 
So  unaffected,  so  composed  a  mind ; 
So  firm,  yet  soft ;  so  strong,  yet  so  refin'd ; 
Heav'n,  as  its  purest  gold,  by  Tortures  try'd ; 
The  Saint  sustained  it,  but  the  Woman  died.  10 

VII. 

ON   THE   MONUMENT  OF  THE   HONOURABLE  ROBERT 

DIGBY,   AND   OF   HIS    SISTER   MARY, 

Erected  by  their  Father,  the  Lord  Digby,  in  the  Church  of  Sherborne 
in  Dorsetshire,  1727.2 

GO !  fair  Example  of  untainted  youth, 
Of  modest  wisdom,  and  pacific  truth  : 
ComposM  in  suff 'rings,  and  in  joy  sedate, 
Good  without  noise,  without  pretension  great. 
Just  of  thy  Word,  in  ev'ry  thought  sincere,  5 

Who  knew  no  wish  but  what  the  world  might  hear: 
Of  softest  manners,  unaffected  mind, 
Lover  of  peace,  and  friend  of  human  kind : 
Go  live!  for  Heav'n's  Eternal  year  is  thine, 
Go,  and  exalt  thy  Moral  to  Divine.  10 

And  thou,  blest  Maid!  attendant  on  his  doom, 
Pensive  hast  followed  to  the  silent  tomb, 
Steer'd  the  same  course  to  the  same  quiet  shore, 
Not  parted  long,  and  now  to  part  no  more! 
Go  then,  where  only  bliss  sincere  is  known!  15 

Go,  where  to  love  and  to  enjoy  are  one ! 

Yet  take  these  Tears,  Mortality's  relief, 
And  till  we  share  your  joys,  forgive  our  grief: 
These  little  rites,  a  Stone,  a  Verse,  receive ; 
'T  is  all  a  Father,  all  a  Friend  can  give!  20 

1  This  epitaph  is  on  a  monument  in  St.  Mar-  preceding  the  epitaph  on  the  monument  speaks 
garet's  Church,  Westminster,  where  the  date  of  of  her  as  the  daughter  of  Sir  Uvedale  Corbett, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Corbet's  death  is  recorded  as  Bart.,  it  is  irreconcileable  with  Hunter's  state- 
March  ist,  1724.    Mr.  Hunter  conceives  that  she  ment.] 

was  the  Mrs.  Corbet  who  was  a  sister  of  Pope's  '  [Robert  Digby  was  a  frequent  correspond- 

mother.      Carrtithers.      [Hunter  enumerates  ent  of  Pope's  during  the  years   1717  to   1724. 

Mrs.  Corbet  among  the  Roman  Catholic  mem-  He  died  in  1726;  and  Pope  laments  his  death  in 

hers  of  the  Turner  family;    and  as  the  notice  a  letter  to  his  brother  Edward  Digby.] 


EPITAPHS.  473 

VIII. 
ON   SIR  GODFREY   KNELLER, 

In  Westminster  Abbey,  1723.1 

KNELLER,  by  Heav'n,  and  not  a  Master,  taught, 
Whose  Art  was  Nature,  and  whose  Pictures  Thought ; 
Now  for  two  ages  having  snatched  from  fate 
Whate'er  was  beauteous,  or  whatever  was  great, 
Lies  crown'd  with  Princes'  honours,  Poets'  lays,  5 

Due  to  his  Merit,  and  brave  Thirst  of  praise. 

Living,  great  Nature  fear'd  he  might  outvie^ 
Her  works ;  and  dying,  fears  herself  may  die. 

IX. 
ON  GENERAL  HENRY  WITHERS, 

In  Westminster  Abbey,  1729.3 

HERE,  Withers,  rest!  thou  bravest,  gentlest  mind, 
Thy  Country's  friend,  but  more  of  human  kind. 
Oh  born  to  Arms!  O  Worth  in  Youth  appro v'd! 
O  soft  Humanity,  in  Age  belov'd! 

For  thee  the  hardy  Vet'ran  drops  a  tear,  5 

And  the  gay  Courtier  feels  the  sigh  sincere. 

Withers,  adieu!  yet  not  with  thee  remove 
Thy  Martial  spirit,  or  thy  Social  love! 
Amidst  Corruption,  Luxury,  and  Rage, 

Still  leave  some  ancient  Virtues  to  our  age :  lO 

Nor  let  us  say  (those  English  glories  gone) 
The  last  true  Briton  lies  beneath  this  stone. 

*  Pope  had  made  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  on  his  scendcd  from  a  military  stock,  and  bred  in  arms 
death-bed,  a  promise  to  write  his  epitaph,  which  in  Britain,  Dunkirk,  and  Tangier.  Through  the 
he  seems  to  have  performed  with  reluctance,  whole  course  of  the  two  last  wars  of  England 
He  thought  it  *  the  worse  thing  he  ever  wrote  with  France,  he  served  in  Ireland,  in  the  Low 
in  his  life.'  {Spence.')  Roscoe.  [Sir  Godfrey  Countries,  and  in  Germany:  was  present  in 
Kneller  was  born  at  Liibeck  in  1648,  and  after  every  battle  and  at  every  siege,  and  distin- 
being  introduced  by  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  to  guished  in  all  by  an  activity,  a  valour  and  a 
King  Charles  II.,  filled  the  office  of  State-painter  zeal  which  nature  gave  and  honour  improved, 
under  that  monarch  and  his  successors  up  to  A  love  of  glory  and  of  his  country  animated  and 
George  I.,  in  whose  reign  (in  1726)  he  died.]  raised  him  above  that  spirit  which  the  trade  of 

2  Imitated  from  the  famous  Epitaph  on  Ra-  war  inspires  —  a  desire  of  acquiring  riches  and 

phael.  honours  by  the  miseries  of  mankind.     His  tem- 

Raphael,  ttmutt,  quo  sospite,  vinci  per  was  humane,  his  benevolence  universal,  and 

Rerum  magna  parens,  et  moriente,  niori.    P.  among  all  those  ancient  virtues  which  he  pre- 

Much  better  translated  by  Mr.  W.  Harrison,  of  served  in  practice  and  in  credit  none  was  more 

New  College,  Oxford,  a  favourite  of  Swift:  remarkable  than  his  hospitality.     He  died  at  the 

*  Here  Raphael  lies,  by  whose  untimely  end  age  of  78,  on  the  nth  of  November,  1729,  to  whom 
Nature  both  lost  a  rival  and  a  friend.'  this  monument  is  erected  by  his  companion  in  the 

Warton.  wars  and  his  friend  through  life,  Henry  Disney.' 

«  [The  following  is  the  prose  inscription  on  Both  V/ithers  and  Disney  (who  rests  beside 

General   Withers's  monument  in  Westminster  his    comrade)    are    mentioned    among    Pope's 

Abbey,  which  is  also  believed  to  be  by  Pope :  friends  by  Gay,  who  alludes  to  the  hospitality 

*  Henry    Withers,    Lieutenant-General,    de-  panegyrized  in  the  above  epitaph.] 


O' 


474  EPITAPHS, 

X. 

ON  MR.   ELIJAH   FENTON, 

At  Easthamstead  in  Berks,  1730.1 

THIS  modest  Stone,  what  few  vain  Marbles  can,* 
May  truly  say,  Here  lies  an  honest  Man : 
A  Poet,  blest  beyond  the  Poef  s  fate, 
Whom  Heaven  kept  sacred  from  the  Proud  and  Great : 
Foe  to  loud  Praise,  and  Friend  to  learned  Ease,  5 

Content  with  Science  in  the  Vale  of  Peace. 
Calmly  he  look'd  on  either  Life,  and  here 
Saw  nothing  to  regret,  or  there  to  fear ; 
From  Nature's  temperate  feast  rose  satisfy'd,^ 
Thank'd  Heaven  that  he  had  liv'd,  and  that  he  died.  10 

XL 
ON  MR.   GAY, 

In  Westminster  Abbey,  1732. 

^F  Manners  gentle,  of  Affections  mild ; 
In  Wit,  a  Man  ;  Simplicity,  a  Child : 
With  native  Humour  tempering  virtuous  Rage, 
FormM  to  delight  at  once  and  lash  the  age : 
Above  Temptation,  in  a  low  Estate,  5 

And  uncorrupted,  ev'n  among  the  Great : 
A  safe  Companion,  and  an  easy  Friend, 
Unblam'd  thro'  Life,  lamented  in  thy  End. 
These  are  Thy  Honours!  not  that  here  thy  Bust 
Is  mix'd  with  Heroes,  or  with  Kings  thy  dust ;  lo 

But  that  the  Worthy  and  the  Good  shall  say, 
Striking  their  pensive  bosoms  —  Here  lies  Gay.* 

^  [Elijah  Fenton  was  born  in  1683.     Fcnton,  Fenton's  tragedy  of  Mariamne  seems  to  have 
together  with  Broome,  wrote  part  of  the  transla-  owed  its  success  in  part  to  the  judicious  sugges- 
tion of  the  Odyssey  in  a  style  so  similar  to  Pope's  tions  of  the  author  of  OroonokoJ\ 
that  most  readers  would  fail  to  distinguish  be-  2  xhe  modest  front  of  this  small  floor 
tween  the  work  of  the  latter  and  that  of  his  Believe  me,  reader,  can  say  more 
coadjutors.     A  survey  of  Fenton's  works  shows  Than  many  a  braver  marble  can: 
a  striking  reproduction  on  his  part  of  most  of  Here  lies  a  truly  honest  man. 
the  species  of  poetry  cultivated  by  Pope.    Fenton  Crashaw,  Epitaph  upon  Mr.  Ashton.  Johnson^ 
has  a  pastoral  (/^/^r^/z'c?)  to  correspond  to  Pope's  ^  Cf.  Hor.  Sat.  Lib.  i.  i.  117-119.     Wake- 
fourth  and  favourite  Pastoral ;  a  paraphrase  of  field. 

the  14th  chapter  of  Isaiah  to  correspond  to  Pope's  *  [There  is  a  very  striking  coincidence  be- 

Messiah;    an  epistle  from  Sappho  to  PhceoUy  tween  these  four  lines  and  the  following  in  the 

Epistles,  Prologues,  and  Translations  and  Imita-  Epitaph  recently  published  by  Prof  H.  Morley, 

tions  of  Horace.     Fenton  was  a  thorough  master  and  believed  by  him  to  be  Milton's: 

of  versification,  and  excelled  Pope  in  his  com-  *  In  this  little  bed  my  dust 

mand  of  a  variety  of  metres.     His  Ode  to  Lord  Incurtained  round  I  here  entrust, 

Goiver  (which   Pope  placed   next  in  merit  to  While  my  more  pure  and  noble  part 

Dryden's  St.  Cecilia)  avoids   the  faults  com-  Lies  entomb'd  in  every  heart.' 

mitted  by  Pope  in  his  own  'Pindaric'  essay;  This  parallel  passage  at  once  explains  the  mean- 

and  his  blank  verse  translation  of  the  nth  book  ing  of  Pope's  last  line,  which  he  complained  to 

of  the  Odyssey  is  dignified  without  heaviness.  Warburton  *  was  not  generally  understood.'] 


EPITAPHS,  475 

XII. 
INTENDED   FOR   SIR   ISAAC  NEWTON, 

In  Westminster  Abbey .1 

ISAACUS     NEWTONUS: 

Quern  Immortalem 

Tcstantur  Tempus,  Nahira,  Caelum: 

Mortalem 

Hoc  marmor  fatetur. 

Nature  and  Nature's  Laws  lay  hid  in  Night : 
GOD  said,  Let  Newton  be  I  and  all  was  Light^ 

XIII. 

ON   DR.   FRANCIS   ATTERBURY, 

Bishop  of  Rochester, 

Who  died  in  Exile  at  Paris,  1732  (his  only  Daughter  having  expired  in  his  arms, 
immediately  after  she  arrived  in  France  to  see  him)  .8 

Dialogue.* 

SHE. 

YES,  we  have  liv'd  —  one  pang,  and  then  we  part! 
May  Heav'n,  dear  Father!  now  have  all  thy  Heart. 
Yet  ah!  how  once  we  lov'd,  remember  still, 
Till  you  are  dust  like  me. 

HE. 

Dear  Shade!  I  will: 
Then  mix  this  dust  with  thine  —  O  spotless  Ghost!  5 

O  more  than  Fortune,  Friends,  or  Country  lost! 
Is  there  on  Earth  one  care,  one  wish  beside  ? 
Yes — Save  my  Country,  Heav'n, 

He  said,  and  died.^ 

*  [pied,  1727.]  pear  on  the  walls  of  the  great  national  cemetery, 

2  and  all  was  Light. ^     It  had  been  better —    is  no  subject  of  regret;  for  nothing  worse  was 
and  there  was  Light,  —  as  more  conformable    ever  written  by  CoUey  Gibber,'] 

to  the  reality  of  the  fact,  and  to  the  allusion  *  [Bowles  has  pointed  out  that  many  of  our 

whereby  it  is  celebrated.     Warburton.  old  epitaphs  are  written  in  dialogue.'] 

3  [Asto  Atterbury,  see^//7.  j'^5"rt//r<?.y,  Dial.  ^  [C{.  Moral  Assays,  Ep.  i.  v.  265.  Atter- 
II.  V.  82.]  Macaulay,  in  his  essay  on  Francis  bury's  letter  to  the  Pretender,  'almost  the  last 
Atterbtiry,  in  relating  that  after  his  death  his  expressions  of  this  most  eloquent  man'  {Lord 
body  was  brought  to  England  and  privately  ^/awA*?/^),  may  be  compared  with  Pope's  poetic 
buried  under  the  nave  of  Westminster  Abbey,  version,  which  was  sarcastically  annotated  by 
observes:  'That  the  epitaph  with  which  Pope  Warburton,  a  safer  kind  of  prelate.] 
honoured  the  memory  of  his  friend  does  not  ap- 


476  EPITAPHS, 

XIV. 
ON  EDMUND   D.   OF   BUCKINGHAM, 

Who  died  in  the  Nineteenth  Year  of  his  Age,  1735.I 

IF  modest  Youth,  with  cool  Reflection  crown'd, 
And  ev'ry  op'ning  Virtue  blooming  round, 
Could  save  a  Parent's  justest  Pride  from  fate, 
Or  add  one  Patriot  to  a  sinking  state ; 

This  weeping  marble  had  not  ask'd  thy  Tear,  5 

Or  sadly  told,  how  many  Hopes  lie  here! 
The  living  Virtue  now  had  shone  approved, 
The  Senate  heard  him,  and  his  Country  lov'd. 
Yet  softer  Honours,  and  less  noisy  Fame 
Attend  the  shade  of  gentle  Buckingham  :  lo 

In  whom  a  Race,  for  Courage  fam'd  and  Art, 
Ends  in  the  milder  Merit  of  the  Heart ; 
And  Chiefs  or  Sages  long  to  Britain  giv'n. 
Pays  the  last  Tribute  of  a  Saint  to  Heav'n. 


XV. 

FOR  ONE  WHO  WOULD  NOT  BE   BURIED  IN 
WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.2 

HEROES,  and  Kings!  your  distance  keep: 
In  peace  let  one  poor  Poet  sleep, 
Who  never  flatter'd  Folks  like  you : 
Let  Horace  blush,  and  Virgil  too. 


ANOTHER,  ON   THE   SAME.* 

UNDER  this  Marble,  or  under  this  Sill, 
Or  under  this  Turf,  or  e'en  what  they  will; 
Whatever  an  Heir,  or  a  Friend  in  his  stead. 
Or  any  good  creature  shall  lay  o'er  my  head. 
Lies  one  who  ne'er  car'd,  and  still  cares  not  a  pin  5 

What  they  said,  or  may  say  of  the  mortal  within : 
But,  who  living  and  dying,  serene  still  and  free, 
Trusts  in  God,  that  as  well  as  he  was,  he  shall  be. 

1  Only  son  of  John  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buck-  piece  of  bad  taste  was  in  contravention  of  Pope's 
inghamshire,  by  Katharine  Darnley,  natural  own  desire  as  expressed  in  his  will,  where  he 
daughter  of  James  II.     Roscoe.  directs  that  only  the  date  of  his  death,  and  his 

2  [These  lines  were  placed  by  Warburton  on  age,  should  be  inscribed  on  his  tomb.] 

the  monument  erected  by  him  to  Pope  in  T wick-         3  [Imitated  from  Ariosto's  epitaph  on  him' 
enham  Church,  seventeen  years  after  his  death,     self.] 
Mr.  Carruthers  points  out  that  this  execrable 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


A  PARAPHRASE 

(on  THOMAS  A  KEMPIS,  1.   III.    C.   2). 

[Done  by  the  Author  at  twelve  years  old ;  and  first  published  from  the  Caryll  Papers 
in  the  AthetKEuniy  July  15th,  1854.] 

SPEAK,  Gracious  Lord,  oh,  speak ;  thy  Servant  hears : 
For  I  'm  thy  Servant  and  I  ^11  still  be  so : 
Speak  words  of  Comfort  in  my  willing  Ears ; 

And  since  my  Tongue  is  in  thy  praises  slow, 
And  since  that  thine  all  Rhetoric  exceeds  :  5 

Speak  thou  in  words,  but  let  me  speak  in  deeds! 

Nor  speak  alone,  but  give  me  grace  to  hear 
What  thy  celestial  Sweetness  does  impart ; 

Let  it  not  stop  when  entered  at  the  Ear, 

But  sink,  and  take  deep  rooting  in  my  heart.  lo 

As  the  parch'd  Earth  drinks  Rain  (but  grace  afford) 

With  such  a  Gust  ^  will  1  receive  thy  word. 

Nor  with  the  Israelites  shall  I  desire 

Thy  heav'nly  word  by  Moses  to  receive, 
Lest  I  should  die  :  but  Thou  who  didst  inspire  IS 

Moses  himself,  speak  Thou,  that  I  may  live. 
Rather  with  Samuel  I  beseech  with  tears, 
Speak,  gracious  Lord,  oh,  speak,  thy  servant  hears. 

Moses,  indeed,  may  say  the  words,  but  Thou 

Must  give  the  Spirit,  and  the  Life  inspire ;  20 

Our  Love  to  thee  his  fervent  Breath  may  blow, 
But 't  is  thyself  alone  can  give  the  fire : 

Thou  without  them  may'st  speak  and  profit  too; 

But  without  thee  what  could  the  Prophets  do? 

They  preach  the  Doctrine,  but  thou  mak'st  us  do't;  25 

They  teach  the  mysteries  thou  dost  open  lay ; 

The  trees  they  water,  but  thou  giv'st  the  fruit ; 
They  to  Salvation  show  the  arduous  way. 

But  none  but  you  can  give  us  Strength  to  walk ; 

You  give  the  Practice,  they  but  give  the  Talk.  30 

1  [i.e.  taste.] 

477 


478  MISCELLANEOUS, 

Let  them  be  Silent  then  ;  and  thou  alone, 
My  God !  speak  comfort  to  my  ravish'd  ears ; 

Light  of  my  eyes,  my  Consolation, 

Speak  when  thou  wilt,  for  still  thy  Servant  hears. 

Whatever  thou  speak'st,  let  this  be  understood  :  35 

Thy  greater  Glory,  and  my  greater  Good! 


TO  THE  AUTHOR  OF  A  POEM 

ENTITLED 

SUCCESSIO. 

[First  published  in  Lintofs  Miscellanies ;  avowed  by  Pope  as  written  by  him 
when  fourteen  years  of  age,  in  note  to  Dunciad,  Bk.  I.  v.  181.  Elkanah  Settle,  the 
city  poet,  and  the  Doeg  of  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  had  written  a  poem  in  celebration 
of  the  settlement  of  the  crown  on  the  house  of  Brunswick.  Of  this  poem  vv.  4  and 
17-18  were  afterwards,  with  slight  alterations,  inserted  in  the  Dunciad  as  vv.  183-4 
and  18 1-2  of  Bk.  I.] 

BEGONE,  ye  Critics,  and  restrain  your  spite, 
CODRUS  writes  on,  and  will  for  ever  write. 
The  heaviest  Muse  the  swiftest  course  has  gone, 
As  clocks  run  fastest  when  most  lead  is  on ; 
What  tho'  no  bees  around  your  cradle  flew,  5 

Nor  on  your  lips  distiird  their  golden  dew ; 
Yet  have  we  oft  discovered  in  their  stead 
A  swarm  of  drones  that  buzz'd  about  your  head. 
When  you,  like  Orpheus,  strike  the  warbling  lyre, 
Attentive  blocks  stand  round  you  and  admire.  10 

Wit  pass'd  through  thee  no  longer  is  the  same, 
As  meat  digested  takes  a  difF'rent  name ; 
But  sense  must  sure  thy  safest  plunder  be. 
Since  no  reprisals  can  be  made  on  thee. 

Thus  thou  may'st  rise,  and  in  thy  daring  flight  15 

(Though  ne'er  so  weighty)  reach  a  wondrous  height. 
So,  forced  from  engines,  lead  itself  can  fly, 
And  pond'rous  slugs  move  nimbly  through  the  sky. 
Sure  Bavius  copied  M^vius  to  the  full. 

And  Ch^erilus^  taught  Codrus  to  be  dull ;  20 

Therefore,  dear  friend,  at  my  advice  give  o'er 
This  needless  labour ;  and  contend  no  more 
To  prove  a  dull  succession  to  be  true. 
Since  't  is  enough  we  find  it  so  in  you. 

*  Perhaps  by  ChcBrilus,  the  juvenile  satirist    master  Catholic  in  poetry  and  opinions:   Dry 
designed  Flecknoe  or  Shadwell,  who  had  re-    den.     D' Israeli,  cited  by  Roscoe. 
ceived  their  immortality  of  Dulness  from  his 


MISCELLANEOUS,  479 


ARGUS. 

'  Homer's  account  of  Ulysses's  dog  Argus  is  the  most  pathetic  imaginable,  all  the 
circumstances  consider'd,  and  an  excellent  proof  of  the  old  bard's  good-nature.  Ulysses 
had  left  him  at  Ithaca  when  he  embark'd  for  Troy,  and  found  him  at  his  return  after 
twenty  years  (which  by  the  way  is  not  unnatural,  as  some  critics  have  said,  since  I  re- 
member the  dam  of  my  dog  was  twenty-two  years  old  when  she  died.  May  the  omen 
of  longevity  prove  fortunate  to  her  successors!)  You  shall  have  it  in  verse.'  Pope  to 
H,  Cromwell,  Oct,  19,  1709. 

WHEN  wise  Ulysses,  from  his  native  coast 
Long  kept  by  wars,  and  long  by  tempests  toss'd, 
ArrivM  at  last,  poor,  old,  disguisM,  alone. 
To  all  his  friends  and  ev'n  his  Queen  unknown ; 
ChangM  as  he  was,  with  age,  and  toils,  and  cares,  5 

Furrow'd  his  rev'rend  face,  and  white  his  hairs, 
In  his  own  palace  forced  to  ask  his  bread, 
Scorn'd  by  those  slaves  his  former  bounty  fed, 
Forgot  of  all  his  own  domestic  crew : 

The  faithful  dog  alone  his  rightful  master  knew!  10 

Unfed,  unhoused,  neglected,  on  the  clay, 
Like  an  old  servant,  now  cashierM,  he  lay ; 
Touch'd  with  resentment  of  ungrateful  man, 
And  longing  to  behold  his  ancient  Lord  again. 
Him  when  he  saw  r— he  rose,  and  crawl'd  to  meet,  15 

('T  was  all  he  could)  and  fawn'd,  and  kiss'd  his  feet, 
SeizM  with  dumb  joy —  then  falling  by  his  side, 
Own^d  his  returning  lord,  look'd  up,  and  died! 


IMITATION  OF  MARTIAL. 

[Lib.  X.  Epigr.  xxill.    Mentioned  as  Pope's  '  imitation  of  Martin's  epigram  on 
Antonius  Primus,'  by  Sir  William  Trumball,  in  a  letter  to  Pope,  Jan.  19,  1716.] 

AT  length,  my  Friend,  (while  Time,  with  still  career 
Wafts  on  his  gentle  wing  his  eightieth  year,^) 
Sees  his  past  days  safe  out  of  Fortune's  pow'r, 
Nor  dreads  approaching  Fate's  uncertain  hour ; 
Reviews  his  life,  and  in  the  strict  survey 
Finds  not  one  moment  he  could  wish  away,  | 
Pleas'd  with  the  series  at  each  happy  day. 
Such,  such  a  man  extends  his  life's  short  space, 
And  from  the  goal  again  renews  the  race ; 
For  he  lives  twice,  who  can  at  once  employ  10 

The  present  well,  and  ev'n  the  past  enjoy. 

^  How  soon  hath  Time,  the  subtle  thief  of  youth, 

Stol'n  on  his  wing  my  three-and-twentieth  year! 

Milton's  Sonnets.     Carruthers* 


4So  MISCELLANEOUS. 

OCCASIONED  BY  SOME  VERSES   OF  HIS   GRACE 
THE   DUKE   OF   BUCKINGHAM.^ 

MUSE,  't  is  enough  :  at  length  thy  labour  ends, 
And  thou  shalt  live,  for  Buckingham  commends. 
Let  Crowds  of  Critics  now  my  verse  assail, 
Let  Dennis  write,  and  nameless  numbers  rail : 
This  more  than  pays  whole  years  of  thankless  pain ; 
^  Time,  health,  and  fortune  are  not  lost  in  vain. 
*  Sheffield  approves,  consenting  Phoebus  bends, 
And  I  and  Malice  from  this  hour  are  friends. 

ON   MRS.    TOFTS, 

A   CELEBRATED  OPERA-SINGER. ^ 

SO  bright  is  thy  Beauty,  so  charming  thy  Song, 
As  had  drawn  both  the  Beasts  and  their  Orpheus  along ; 
But  such  is  thy  Av'rice,  and  such  is  thy  Pride, 
That  the  Beasts  must  have  starv'd,  and  the  Poet  have  died, 

EPIGRAM   ON   THE  FEUDS  ABOUT  HANDEL  AND 
B0N0NCINI.8 

[Sometimes,  but  incorrectly,  attributed  to  Swift.] 

'^TRANGE!  all  this  Difference  should  be 
'Twixt  Tweedle-^^/^/  and  Tweedle-^^^/ 

EPIGRAM. 


S' 


YOU  beat  your  Pate,  and  fancy  Wit  will  come : 
Knock  as  you  please,  there 's  nobody  at  home. 


EPITAPH. 

[Imitated  by  Goldsmith  in  his  Epitaph  on  Edward  f^urdon, '  a  bookseller's  hack.*] 

''ELL  then,  poor  G lies  under  Ground ! 

So  there  's  an  End  of  honest  Jack. 
So  little  Justice  here  he  found, 
'T  is  ten  to  one  he  '11  ne'er  come  back. 


w 


1  The  verses  referred  to  are  the  commen-  1709,  being  then  under  the  influence  of  a  mental 
datory  lines  prefixed  to  Pope's  poem  by  B.  malady.  See  the  Tatler,  No.  20,  where  her 
Roscoe.    [As  to  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckingham-  insanity  (which  led  her  to  identify  herself  with 

•  shire,  see  note  to  Essay  on  Criticism,  v.  724.]  Camilla,   one    of   her    operatic    characters,    is 

2  [Katharine  Tofts  first  came  before  the  pub-  described.  She  was  married  to  a  Mr.  Smith; 
He  in  1703,  as  a  singer  of  Italian  and  English,  at  and  died  in  Italy  in  1760.  See  Hogarth's 
the  theatre  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  Subse-  Mejnoirs  of  the  Musical  Drama.'] 
quently  her  rivalry  with  Margherita  de  I'Epine  ^  [Giovanni  Battista  Bononcini's  first  English 
divided  the  public  into  an  English  and  an  opera  appeared  in  1720 ;  but  he  was  at  that 
Italian  party.  Hughes  celebrated  her  as  *  the  time  already  well-known  as  the  composer  of 
British  Tofts.'     She  retired  from  the  stage  in  Camilla.'^ 


MISCELLANEOUS.  4«i 


EPITAPH. 

[From  the  Latin  on  Joannes  Mirandula.i    The  lines  were  afterwards  applied  by  Pope 
to  Lord  Coningsby ;  as  to  whom  cf.  Moral  Essays,  Ep.  ill.  v.  397.] 


H 


N 


ERE  Francis  C 2  ijeg.     Be  civil; 

The  rest  God  knows —  perhaps  the  Devil! 

THE   BALANCE  OF  EUROFE.s 

OW  Europe 's  balanced,  neither  Side  prevails , 
For  nothing  's  left  in  either  of  the  Scales. 


TO  A   LADY  WITH   "THE   TEMPLE   OF   FAME." 

["  I  send  you  my  Temple  of  Fame,  which  is  just  come  out ;  but  my  sentiments  about 
it  you  will  see  better  by  this  epigram."  —  Pope  to  Martha  Blount,  1714.] 

WHAT  'S  Fame  with  Men,  by  Custom  of  the  Nation, 
Is  caird  in  Women  only  Reputation ; 
About  them  both  why  keep  we  such  a  pother? 
Part  you  with  one,  and  I  '11  renounce  the  other. 

IMPROMPTU  TO   LADY  WINCHILSEA. 

OCCASIONED  BY  FOUR  SATIRICAL  VERSES  ON  WOMEN-WITS,   IN  THE 
"RAPE  OF  THE  LOCK." 

[The  four  verses  are  apparently  Canto  iv.  vv.  59-62.  The  Countess  of  Winchilsea, 
a  poetess  whom  Rowe  hailed  as  inspired  by  '  more  than  Delphic  ardour,'  replied  by 
some  pretty  lines,  where  she  declares  that, '  disarmed  with  so  genteel  an  air,'  she  gives 
over  the  contest.    Her  reply  will  be  found  in  Roscoe's  Supplement^  pp.  183-6.] 

IN  vain  you  boast  Poetic  Names  of  yore, 
And  cite  those  Sapphos  we  admire  no  more : 
Fate  doom'd  the  Fall  of  every  Female  Wit ; 
But  doomed  it  then,  when  first  Ardelia  writ. 
Of  all  Examples  by  the  World  confessed,  5 

I  knew  Ardelia  could  not  quote  the  best  • 
Who,  like  her  Mistress  on  Britannia's  Throne,* 
Fights  and  subdues  in  Quarrels  not  her  own. 
To  write  their  Praise  you  but  in  vain  essay ; 
E'en  while  you  write,  you  take  that  Praise  away :  10 

Light  to  the  Stars  the  Sun  does  thus  restore. 
But  shines  himself  till  they  are  seen  no  more. 

*  Joannes  jacet  hie  Mirandula;  caetera  norunt  state  of  Europe  after  the  peace  of  Utrecht  in 

EtTagusetGanges  —  forsanet  Antipodes.  1715,  as  a  peace  resulting  (which  was  not  in 

2  [Chartres]  truth  the  case)  from  general  exhaustion.] 

3  [*  The  Balance  of  Europe '  is  a  term  of  *  [Alluding  to  the  wars  concerning  the  Span- 
which  the  origin  belongs  to  the  times  of  Henry  ish  succession,  in  which  England  certainly  had 
IV.  of  France.     Pope's   epigram   refers  to  the  no  direct  interest,  under  Queen  Anne.j 

21 


4B2  MISCELLANEOUS, 

EPIGRAM 

ON  THE  TOASTS  OF  THE   KIT-CAT  CLUB,  ANNO  I716. 

[The  Kit-Cat  Club  was  so  named  from  Christopher  Katt,  a  famous  pastry-cook. 
Steele,  Addison,  and  many  other  wits  were  members,  and  Tonson  secretary.  It  was 
customary  to  write  verses  in  honour  of  the  '  Toasts,'  and  engrave  them  upon  the  glasses. 
Each  member  gave  his  picture  to  the  club.] 

WHENCE  deathless  Kit-Cat  took  its  Name, 
Few  Critics  can  unriddle  ; 
Some  say  from  Pastry-cook  it  came, 

And  some  from  Cat  and  Fiddle. 
From  no  trim  Beaux  its  Name  it  boasts, 

Gray  statesmen  or  green  wits  ; 
But  from  this  Pell-mell  Pack  of  Toasts 
Of  old  "  Cats  "  and  young  "  Kits." 

A  DIALOGUE. 
1717. 

Pope.  —  O INCE  my  old  friend  is  grown  so  great 

0  As  to  be  Minister  of  State, 

1  'm  told,  but  't  is  not  true,  I  hope, 
That  Craggs  ^  will  be  ashamed  of  Pope. 

CraggS. — Alas!  if  I  am  such  a  creature 

To  grow  the  worse  for  growing  greater ; 
Why,  faith,  in  spite  of  all  my  brags, 
'T  is  Pope  must  be  ashamed  of  Craggs. 

ON  DRAWINGS   OF   THE   STATUES   OF  APOLLO,  VENUS, 
AND   HERCULES, 

MADE  FOR  POPE  BY   SIR   GODFREY   KNELLER. 

WHAT  god,  what  genius,  did  the  pencil  move, 
When  Kneller  painted  these? 
'T  was  friendship  warm  as  Phoebus,  kind  as  love. 
And  strong  as  Hercules. 

PROLOGUE  TO  THE   "THREE   HOURS   AFTER   MARRIAGE." 

[From  the  Miscellanies  of  Pope,  Swift,  Arbuthnot,  and  Gay.] 

[Though  I  am  not  aware  on  what  evidence  Roscoe  and  Carruthers  agree  in  as- 
cribing the  Prologue  of  this  farce  to  Pope,  instead  of  leaving  its  joint  honours  like  those 
of  the  farce  itself  to  Gay  and  Arbuthnot  (for  both  contributed  to  the  volume  of  Miscel- 
lanies in  which  it  was  published)  as  well  as  him ;  yet  the  following  has  been  inserted 
on  account  of  the  interest  attaching  to  the  piece,  as  the  origin  of  Pope's  quarrel  with 
Cibber.  A  brief  notice  of  the  play,  which  was  produced  at  Drury-Lane  on  Jan.  i6th, 
1717,  will  be  found  in  the  Introductory  Memoir :  and  the  play  itself  in  most  editions  of 
Gay,  and  in  Bowles's  edition  of  Pope,  vol.  x.] 

1  [See  p.  461.] 


MISCELLANEOUS.  483 

AUTHORS  are  judg'd  by  strange  capricious  Rules  ; 
The  great  ones  are  thought  mad,  the  small  ones  Fools : 
Yet  sure  the  best  are  most  severely  fated, 
For  Fools  are  only  laugh'd  at.  Wits  are  hated. 
Blockheads  with  Reason  Men  of  Sense  abhor ;  5 

But  Fool  'gainst  Fool  is  barb'rous  Civil  War. 
Why  on  all  Authors  then  should  Critics  fall. 
Since  some  have  writ,  and  shown  no  Wit  at  all  ? 
Condemn  a  Play  of  theirs,  and  they  evade  it, 
Cry,  "  Damn  not  us,  but  damn  the  French  who  made  it."  10 

By  running  Goods,  these  graceless  Owlers^  gain ; 
These  are  the  Rules  of  France^  the  Plots  of  Spain : 
But  Wit,  like  Wine,  from  happier  climates  brought, 
Dash'd  by  these  Rogues,  turns  English  common  Draught. 
They  pall  Moli^re'^s  and  Lopez' '^  sprightly  strain,  15 

And  teach  dull  Harlequins  to  grin  in  vain. 

How  shall  our  Author  hope  a  gentler  Fate, 
Who  dares  most  impudently  not  translate? 
It  had  been  civil  in  these  ticklish  times, 

To  fetch  his  Fools  and  Knaves  from  foreign  Climes,  20 

Spaniards  and  French  abuse  to  the  World's  End, 
But  spare  old  England^  lest  you  hurt  a  Friend. 
If  any  Fool  is  by  our  Satire  bit, 
Let  him  hiss  loud,  to  show  you  all,  he  's  hit. 
Poets  make  Characters,  as  Salesinen  Clothes,  25 

We  take  no  Measure  of  your  Fops  and  Beaus, 
But  here  all  Sizes  and  all  Shapes  you  meet, 
And  fit  yourselves,  like  Chaps  ^  in  Monmouth-street. 

Gallants!  look  here,  this  Fools-cap  has  an  Air,  \^Show5  a  cap 

Goodly  and  smart,  with  Ears  of  Issachar,  luith  ears. 

Let  no  one  Fool  engross  it,  or  confine, 
A  common  Blessing!  now  'tis  yours,  now  mine. 
But  Poets  in  all  Ages  had  the  Care 
To  keep  this  Cap,  for  such  as  will,  to  wear, 

Our  Author  has  it  now,  (for  every  Wit  35 

Of  Course  resign'd  it  to  the  next  that  writ :)  [Flings  down 

And  thus  upon  the  Stage  't  is  fairly  ^  thrown ;  i  w/^^'  ^*^^ 

Let  him  that  takes  it,  wear  it  as  his  own. 


exit. 


1  [i.e.  smugglers:  prop,  woollers.]  To  club  a  Farce  by  Tripartite-Indenture 

2  [Lopez  de  Vega,  the  most  prolific  of  Span-  But  let  them  share  their  dividend  of  praise 

ish  dramatists.]  And    their    own   Fools-cap   wear,  instead   of 

*  [Cheap  salesmen.]  Bays.* 

*  [C.  Johnson,  in   the  Prologue  to  his  Sul-  Which  attack  procured  him  a  place  in  the  DuM' 
taness,  thus  referred  to  this  exit  and  the  farce:  ciad.    Geneste's  Account  of  the  Stage ^  &c.  n. 

*  Some  wags  have  been,  who  boldly  durst  ad-  p.  598.] 
venture 


484  MISCELLANEOUS, 


PROLOGUE   DESIGNED   FOR   MR.   D'URFEY'Si 
LAST  PLAY. 

[First  published  in  Pope  and  Swift's  Miscellanies^ 

GROWN  old  in  Rhyme,  't  were  barbarous  to  discard 
Your  persevering,  unexhausted  Bard  : 
Damnation  follows  Death  in  other  men ; 
But  your  damn'd  Poet  lives,  and  writes  again. 
Th'  adventurous  Lover  is  successful  still,  5 

Who  strives  to  please  the  Fair  against  her  Will: 
Be  kind,  and  make  him  in  his  Wishes  easy, 
Who  in  your  own  Despite  has  strove  to  please  ye. 
He  scorn'd  to  borrow  from  the  Wits  of  yore ; 
But  ever  writ,  as  none  e^er  writ  before.  10 

You  Modern  Wits,  should  each  man  bring  his  Claim, 
Have  desperate  Debentures  on  your  Fame ; 
And  little  would  be  left  you,  I  'm  afraid. 
If  all  your  Debts  to  Greece  and  Rome  were  paid. 
From  his  deep  Fund  our  Author  largely  draws  ;  15 

Nor  sinks  his  Credit  lower  than  it  was. 
Though  Plays  for  Honour  in  old  time  he  made, 
'T  is  now  for  better  Reasons  —  to  be  paid. 
Believe  him,  he  has  known  the  World  too  long, 
And  seen  the  Death  of  much  immortal  Song.  20 

He  says,  poor  Poets  lost,  while  Players  won. 
As  Pimps  grow  rich,  while  Gallants  are  undone. 
Though  Tom  the  Poet  writ  with  ease  and  pleasure, 
The  Comic  Tom  abounds  in  other  treasure. 
Fame  is  at  best  an  unperforming  Cheat ;  25 

But  't  is  substantial  Happiness,  to  eat. 
Let  Ease,  his  last  Request,  be  of  your  giving, 
Nor  force  him  to  be  damn'd  to  get  his  Living. 


A  PROLOGUE   BY  MR.   POPE, 

To  a  Play  for  Mr.  Dennis's  Benefit,  in  1733,  when  he  was  old,  blind,  and  in  great 
Distress,  a  little  before  his  Death. 2 


A^ 


S  when  that  Hero,  who  in  each  Campaign, 
Had  brav'd  the  Goth^  and  many  a  Vandal  slain, 


1  [As  to  D'Urfey  or  Durfey,  see  p.  67.]  as  to  write  a  Prologue,  which  was  spoken  by 

2  Dennis  being  much  distressed  very  near  the  Theophilus  Gibber  (the  Laureate's  son).  Ge- 
close  of  his  life,  it  was  proposed  to  act  a  play  neste,  English  Stage,  Vol.  iii.  p.  318.  [The 
for  his  benefit;  and  Thomson,  Mallet,  Benjamin  annalist  adds,  with  much  truth,  that  Pope's 
Martin  and  Pope  took  the  lead  upon  the  occa-  benevolence  was  not  so  pure  as  could  be 
sion.  The  play,  which  was  the  Provoked  wished;  for  his  Prologue  was  throughout  a 
Husband  (by  Vanbrugh  and  Gibber),  was  rep-  sneer  at  the  poor  old  critic,  who  happily,  either 
resented  at  the  Haymarket,  Dec.  i8th,  1733;  from  vanity  or  the  decay  of  his  intellects,  failed 
and  Pope  condescended  so  far  as  to  lay  aside  to  perceive  its  tendency.  He  died  twenty  days 
his   resentment   against   his  former  antagonist  afterwards.     As  to  the  general  character  of  the 


MISCELLANEOUS,  485 

Lay  Fortune-struck,  a  spectacle  of  Woe! 

Wept  by  each  Friend,  forgiv'n  by  ev'ry  Foe : 

Was  there  a  gen'rous,  a  reflecting  mind,  5 

But  pitied  Belisarius  old  and  blind? 

Was  there  a  Chief  but  melted  at  the  Sight  P^ 

A  common  Soldier,  but  who  clubbM  his  Mite? 

Such,  such  emotions  should  in  Britons  rise, 

When  press'd  by  want  and  weakness  Dennis  lies ;  10 

Dennis^  who  long  had  warr'd  with  modern  Huns^ 

Their  Quibbles  routed,  and  defy'd  their  Puns ; 

A  despVate  Bulwark^  sturdy,  firm,  and  fierce 

Against  the  Gothic  Sons  of  frozen  verse  : 

How  changed  from  him  who  made  the  boxes  groan,  15 

And  shook  the  Stage  with  Thunders  all  his  own! 

Stood  up  to  dash  each  vain  Pretender's  hope, 

Maul  the  French  Tyrant,  or  pull  down  the  Pope! 

If  there  's  a  Briton  then,  true  bred  and  born. 

Who  holds  Dragoons  and  wooden  shoes  in  scorn :  20 

If  there 's  a  Critic  of  distinguished  rage ; 

If  there  's  a  Senior,  who  contemns  this  age ; 

Let  him  to  night  his  just  assistance  lend, 

And  be  the  Critic's^  Briton's^  Old  Mali's  Friend. 


MACER:  A  CHARACTER. 

[First  printed  in  the  Miscellanies  of  Swift  and  Pope  (1727),  and  interpreted  by  War- 
ton  to  mean  James  Moore-Smythe  (see  Dunciad,  Bk.  II.  v.  50) .  But  Bowles  thinks  it 
more  likely  that  the  character  was  intended  for  Ambrose  Philips,  called  '  lean  Philips' 
by  Pope  (see  Farewell  to  London,  p.  496)  ;  who  '  borrowed '  a  play  from  the  French, 
and  '  translated  *  the  Persian  tales.  Mr.  Carruthers  completes  the  identification  by 
showing  a  note  prefixed  to  this  character  on  its  first  publication  and  speaking  of 
Macer's  advertisements  for  a  Miscellany  in  1713,  to  refer  to  such  an  advertisement 
actually  issued  by  Philips  in  the  London  Gazette  in  1715.  As  to  Philips,  see  Dunciad, 
Bk.  III.  V.  326,  et  al. 

WHEN  simple  Macer,  now  of  high  renown, 
First  fought  a  Poet's  Fortune  in  the  Town, 
'T  was  all  th'  Ambition  his  high  soul  could  feel, 
To  wear  red  stockings,  and  to  dine  with  Steels, 
Some  Ends  of  verse  his  Betters  might  afford,  5 

And  gave  the  harmless  fellow  a  good  word. 
Set  up  with  these  he  venturM  on  the  Town, 
And  with  a  borrowed  Play,^  out-did  poor  Crown, ^ 

relations  between  Pope  and  Dennis,  see  Intro-  ^  [The  borrowed  play,  TJie  Distrest  Mother ^ 

ductory  Memoir,  p.  xxiv.]     The  furious  patri-  was,  as  Carruthers  says,  from  Racine,  not,  as 

otism  of  Dennis  is  of  course  alluded  to  in  the  Bowles   says,   from    Voltaire.      It  is   the  An- 

appeal  for  *  British  '  sympathy.  dromague,  and  the  epilogue  was   ascribed  to 

1  Was  there  a  Chief,  etc.]     The  fine  figure  Addison] 

of  the  Commander  in   that  capital   Picture  of  ^  [John   Crown,  who   wrote  12   tragedies,  6 

Belisarius  at  Chiswick,  supplied  the  Poet  with  comedies,  and  a  masque,  in  little  more  than  a 

this  beautiful  idea.     Warburton.  quarter  of  a  century,  died  about  1698.      As  a 


486  MISCELLANEOUS, 

There  he  stopp'd  short,  nor  since  has  writ  a  tittle, 

But  has  the  wit  to  make  the  most  of  little ;  10 

Like  stunted  hide-bound  Trees,  that  just  have  got 

Sufficient  sap  at  once  to  bear  and  rot. 

Now  he  begs  Verse,  and  what  he  gets  commends, 

Not  of  the  Wits  his  foes,  but  Fools  his^ friends. 

So  some  coarse  Country  Wench,  alrnost  decayed,  15 

Trudges  to  town,  and  first  turns  Chambermaid ; 
Awkward  and  supple,  each  devoir  to  pay ; 
She  flatters  her  good  Lady  twice  a  day ; 
Thought  wond'rous  honest,  tho'  of  mean  degree. 
And  strangely  likM  for  her  Simplicity :  20 

In  a  translated  Suit,  then  tries  the  Town, 
With  borrow'd  Pins,  and  Patches  not  her  own : 
But  just  endurM  the  winter  she  began. 
And  in  four  months  a  batter'd  Harridan. 

Now  nothing  left,  but  wither^,  pale,  and  shrunk,  25 

To  bawd  for  others,  and  go  shares  with  Punk. 


UMBRA. 

[From  the  Miscellanies.  The  original  of  the  character  has  been  variously  sought  in 
Walter  Carey  (a  F.  R.  S.  and  Whig  official) ,  Charles  Johnson  and  Ambrose  Philips. 
*  Umbra '  must  in  no  case  be  confounded  with  the  '  Lord  Umbra '  of  the  Satires.] 

CLOSE  to  the  best  known  Author  Umbra  sits, 
The  constant  Index  to  all  Button's  Wits.^ 
"Who's  here?"  cries  Umbra:  " only  Johnson," 2  —  "Oh! 
Your  Slave,"  and  exit;  but  returns  with  Rowe: 
"  Dear  Rowe,  let 's  sit  and  talk  of  tragedies  :  "  5 

Ere  long  Pope  enters,  and  to  Pope  he  flies. 
Then  up  comes  Steele  :  he  turns  upon  his  Heel, 
And  in  a  Moment  fastens  upon  Steele ; 
But  cries  as  soon,  "  Dear  Dick,  I  must  be  gone, 
For,  if  I  know  his  Tread,  here  's  Addison."  ID 

Says  Addison  to  Steele,  "  'T  is  Time  to  go ;  " 
Pope  to  the  Closet  steps  aside  with  Rowe. 
Poor  Umbra  left  in  this  abandoned  Pickle, 
E'en  sets  him  down  and  writes  to  honest  T — .^ 
Fool !  't  is  in  vain  from  Wit  to  Wit  to  roam ;  1 5 

Know,  Sense,  like  Charity,  begins  at  Home. 

sample    of    a    borrow'd    play,    see    Geneste's         2  [Charles  Johnson,  a  second-rate  dramatist. 

account  of  Crown's  version  of  Pari  I.  of  Henry  Bowles. '[ 

y/.]  3  [Tickeil.    Sec  Introductory  Memoir,  p. 

1  [Button's  coffee-house  in  Covent  Garden  xxix.] 
was  the  resort  of  Addison's  circle.] 


MISCELLANEOUS.  487 

TO  MR.  JOHN  MOORE,  Author  of  the  celebrated  Worm-Powder. 
[From  the  Miscellanies^ 

HOW  much,  egregious  Moore,  are  we 
DeceivM  by  Shows  and  Forms! 
Whatever  we  think,  whatever  we  see, 
All  Humankind  are  Worms. 

Man  is  a  very  Worm  by  birth,  5 

Vile,  Reptile,  weak,  and  vain! 
A  While  he  crawls  upon  the  Earth, 

Then  shrinks  to  Earth  again. 

That  Woman  is  a  Worm,  we  find 

E'er  since  our  Grandam's  evil ; 
She  first  conversed  with  her  own  Kind, 

That  ancient  Worm,  the  Devil. 

The  Learn'd  themselves  we  Book-worms  name, 

The  Blockhead  is  a  Slow-worm ; 
The  Nymph  whose  Tail  is  all  on  Flame,  15 

Is  aptly  termed  a  Glow-worm : 

The  Fops  are  painted  Butterflies, 

That  flutter  for  a  Day ; 
First  from  a  Worm  they  take  their  Rise, 

And  in  a  Worm  decay.  _    20 

The  Flatterer  an  Ear-wig  grows ; 

Thus  Worms  suit  all  Conditions  ; 
Misers  are  Muck-worms,  Silk-worms  Beaux, 

And  Death-watches  Physicians. 

That  Statesmen  have  the  Worm,  is  seen,  25 

By  all  their  winding  Play ; 
Their  Conscience  is  a  Worm  within. 

That  gnaws  them  Night  and  Day. 

Ah  Moore !  thy  Skill  were  well  employed, 
And  greater  Gain  would  rise,  30 

If  thou  couldst  make  the  Courtier  void 
The  Worm  that  never  dies  I 

O  learned  Friend  of  Abchurch-Lanef- 

Who  setf  st  our  entrails  free. 
Vain  is  thy  Art,  thy  Powder  vain,  35 

Since  Worms  shall  eat  ev'n  thee. 

*  [Abchurch  (properly  Upchurch)  Lane,  Lombard  Street.] 


488  MISCELLANEOUS. 

Our  Fate  thou  only  canst  adjourn 

Some  few  short  years,  no  more! 
Ev'n  Button's  Wits  to  Worms  shall  tur% 

Who  Maggots  were  before.  40 


SANDYS'  GHOST; 

OR 

A  PROPER  NEW  BALLAD  ON  THE  NEW  OVID'S  METAMORPHOSES. 

AS  IT  WAS  INTENDED  TO  BE  TRANSLATED  BY  PERSONS  OF  QUALITY. 

[From  the  Miscellanies.  It  is  obviously  not  by  Gay  (see  St.  13).  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
quoted  by  Roscoe,  explains  the  ballad  to  refer  to  a  translation  of  the  Metamorphoses 
published  by  Sir  Samuel  Garth  (and  written  by  several  hands,  of  which  Pope's  was 
one),  to  supersede  the  old  translation  of  George  Sandys,  who  died  in  1643.] 

YE  Lords  and  Commons,  Men  of  Wit, 
And  Pleasure  about  Town ; 
Read  this  ere  you  translate  one  Bit 
Of  Books  of  high  Renown. 

Beware  of  Latin  Authors  all!  5 

Nor  think  your  Verses  Sterling, 
Though  with  a  Golden  Pen  you  scrawl^ 

And  scribble  in  a  Berlin : 

For  not  the  Desk  with  silver  Nails, 

Nor  Bureau  of  Expense,  lo 

Nor  Standish  well  japannM  avails 

To  writing  of  good  Sense. 

Hear  how  a  Ghost  in  dead  of  Night, 

With  saucer  Eyes  of  Fire, 
In  woeful  wise  did  sore  affright  15 

A  Wit  and  courtly  'Squire. 

Rare  Imp  of  Phoebus,  hopeful  Youth 

Like  Puppy  tame  that  uses 
To  fetch  and  carry,  in  his  Mouth, 

The  Works  of  all  the  Muses.  20 

Ah!  why  did  he  write  Poetry, 

That  hereto  was  so  civil ; 
And  sell  his  soul  for  vanity, 

To  Rhyming  and  the  Devil  ? 

A  Desk  he  had  of  curious  Work,  25 

With  glittering  Studs  about ; 
Within  the  same  did  Sandys  lurk, 

Though  Ovid  lay  without. 


MISCELLANEOUS,  489 

Now  as  he  scratched  to  fetch  up  Thought, 

Forth  popp'd  the  Sprite  so  thin ;  30 

And  from  the  Key-hole  bolted  out, 
All  upright  as  a  Pin. 

With  Whiskers,  Band,  and  Pantaloon, 

And  RufF  composed  most  duly ; 
This  'Squire  he  dropped  his  Pen  full  soon,  35 

While  as  the  Light  burnt  bluely. 

"Ho!  Master  Sam,"  quoth  Sandys'  sprite> 

"  Write  on,  nor  let  me  scare  ye ; 
Forsooth,  if  Rhymes  fall  in  not  right, 

To  Budgell  ^  seek,  or  Carey.^  40 

"I  hear  the  Beat  of  Jacob's  Drums,' 

Poor  Ovid  finds  no  Quarter! 
See  first  the  merry  P comes  * 

In  Haste,  without  his  Garter. 

"Then  Lords  and  Lordlings,  'Squires  and  Knights,         45 

Wits,  Witlings,  Prigs,  and  Peers! 
Garth  at  St.  James's,  and  at  White's, 

Beats  up  for  Volunteers. 

"  What  Fenton  will  not  do,  nor  Gay, 

Nor  Congreve,  Rowe,  nor  Stanyan,  50 

Tom  B 1 5  or  Tom  D'Urfey  may, 

John  Dunton,  Steele,  or  any  one. 

"  If  Justice  Philips'  costive  head 

Some  frigid  Rhymes  disburses ; 
They  shall  like  Persian  Tales  ^  be  read,  55 

And  glad  both  Babes  and  Nurses. 

"  Let  W — rw — k's  Muse  with  Ash — t  join,^ 

And  Ozell's  with  Lord  Hervey's : 
Tickell  and  Addison  combine, 

And  P — pe  translate  with  Jervas.  60 

"  L himself,  that  lively  Lord,^ 

Who  bows  to  every  Lady, 
Shall  join  with  F ^  in  one  Accord, 

And  be  like  Tate  and  Brady. 

1  [See  Dunciad,  Bk.  ii.  v.  397.]  pieces  were  the  Persian  Tales)  was  appointed 

2  [John  Carey.     See  note  5  on  pag.  490.]  (by  his  patron  Archbp.  Boulter)  Judge  of  the 
8  [Jacob  Tonson.]                                                   Prerogative  Court  in  Ireland.] 

*  The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  probably.    Roscoe.         ^  Lord  Warwick  and  Dr.  Ashurst.     Carru- 

^  [Tom  Burnet,  the  bishop's  son.    See  Dun-  thers. 
ciad,  Bk.  111.  v.  179.    John  Dunton:  see  Dun-         ^  Lord  Lansdowne.     Id. 
ciadf  Bk.  II.  V.  144.]  ^  Philip  Frowde,  a  dramatic  writer  and  fine 

6  [Ambrose  Philips  (among  whose  translated  scholar,  a  friend  of  Addison's.    Id, 


490  MISCELLANEOUS. 

"  Ye  Ladies  too  draw  forth  your  pen,  65 

I  pray  where  can  the  hurt  lie  ? 
Since  you  have  Brains  as  well  as  Men, 

As  witness  Lady  W — 1 — y.^ 

"  Now,  Tonson,  list  thy  Forces  all, 

Review  them,  and  tell  Noses ;  70 

For  to  poor  Ovid  shall  befal 

A  strange  Metamorphosis. 

"  A  Metamorphosis  more  strange 

Than  all  his  Books  can  vapour ;  " 
<To  what'  (quoth  'squire)  ^ shall  Ovid  change?'  75 

Quoth  Sandys :  "  To  waste  papers 


THE   TRANSLATOR. 

Egbert  Sanger  served  his  apprenticeship  with  Jacob  Tonson,  and  succeeded  Ber- 
nard Lintot  in  his  shop  at  Middle  Temple  Gate,  Fleet  Street.  Lintot  printed  Ozell's 
translation  of  Perrault's  Characters,  and  Sanger  his  translation  of  Boileau's  Lutrin, 
recommended  by  Rowe,  in  1709.     Warton. 

OZELL,2  at  Sanger's  call,  invoked  his  Muse  — 
For  who  to  sing  for  Sanger  could  refuse  ? 
His  numbers  such  as  Sanger's  self  might  use. 
Reviving  Perrault,  murdering  Boileau,  he 
Slander'd  the  ancients  first,  then  Wycherley ;  5 

Which  yet  not  much  that  old  bard's  anger  raised, 
Since  those  were  slander'd  most,  whom  Ozell  praised 
Nor  had  the  gentle  satire  caus'd  complaining. 
Had  not  sage  Rowe  pronounc'd  it  entertaining : 
How  great  must  be  the  judgment  of  that  writer  10 

Who  the  Plain-dealer^  damns,  and  prints  the  Biter l^ 


THE  THREE  GENTLE  SHEPHERDS. 

OF  gentle  Philips  will  I  ever  sing. 
With  gentle  Philips  shall  the  valleys  ring. 
My  numbers  too  for  ever  will  I  vary, 
With  gentle  Budgell  and  with  gentle  Carey.^ 
Or  if  in  ranging  of  the  names  I  judge  ill,  5 

With  gentle  Carey  and  with  gentle  Budgell ;  * 
Oh !  may  all  gentle  bards  together  place  ye, 

*  [Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu.]  there  was  also  a  John  Carey,  a  contributor  to 

*  [See  Dunciad,  Bk.  i.  v.  286.]  the  Tatler  and  Spectator,  and  Waher  Carey. 
3  [By  Wycherley.]  Carruthers. 

*  [By  Rowe.]  6  [These  four  lines  seem  to  have  suggested 
^  Henry  Carey.      Roscoe,      The    author  of  Canning's  well-known  epigram  on   Hiley  and 

'  Sally  in  our    alley '    and  a  dramatist.      But    Bragge.] 


MISCELLANEOUS.  491 

Men  of  good  hearts,  and  men  of  delicacy 
May  satire  ne'er  befool  ye,  or  beknave  ye, 
And  from  all  wits  that  have  a  knack,  God  save  ye.*  10 


LINES 

WRITTEN   IN  WINDSOR  FOREST. 

[Letter  to  a  Lady  (Martha  Blount)  in  Bowles,  dated  by  Carruthers,  September,  17 17.] 

ALL  hail,  once  pleasing,  once  inspiring  shade! 
Scene  of  my  youthful  loves  and  happier  hours! 
Where  the  kind  Muses  met  me  as  I  stray'd, 

And  gently  pressed  my  hand,  and  said  "Be  ours!  — 
Take  all  thou  e'er  shalt  have,  a  constant  Muse :  5 

At  Court  thou  may'st  be  liked,  but  nothing  gain  : 
Stock  thou  may'st  buy  and  sell,  but  always  lose. 
And  love  the  brightest  eyes,  but  love  in  vain." 

TO  MRS.  M.   B.  ON  HER  BIRTH-DAY.^ 

[1723-] 

OH  be  thou  blest  with  all  that  Heav'n  can  send. 
Long  Health,  long  Youth,  long  Pleasure,  and  a  Friend: 
Not  with  those  Toys  the  female  world  admire. 
Riches  that  vex,  and  Vanities  that  tire. 

With  added  years  if  Life  bring  nothing  new,  5 

But,  like  a  Sieve,  let  ev'ry  blessing  thro', 
Some  joy  still  lost,  as  each  vain  year  runs  o'er, 
And  all  we  gain,  some  sad  Reflection  more ; 
Is  that  a  Birth-Day?  't  is  alas!  too  clear, 
'T  is  but  the  Fun'ral  of  the  former  year.  lo 

Let  Joy  or  Ease,  let  Affluence  or  Content, 
And  the  gay  Conscience  of  a  life  well  spent. 
Calm  ev'ry  thought,  inspirit  ev'ry  grace, 
Glow  in  thy  heart,  and  smile  upon  thy  face. 
Let  day  improve  on  day,  and  year  on  year,  15 

*  Curll  said,  that  in  prose  he  was  equal  to  'If  there's  no  hope  with  kind,  though  fainter  ray 

Pope;  but  that  in  verse  Pope  had  merely  a  par-  To  gild  the  ev'ning  of  our  future  day; 

ticular  knack.     Bowles.  If  ev'ry  page  of  life's  long  volume  tell 

2  [Martha  Blount.      Lines   5-10   occur  as  a  The  same  dull  story  —  Mordaunt,  thou  didst 
reflection  on  the  poet's  own  birthday  in  a  letter  well.' 

to  Gay  of  the  year   1722,  and    they  were  also  The  lines  concerning  which  the  charge  of  plagiar- 

adapted  for  him  to  a  kind  of  epitaph  on  Henry  ism  was  mutually  made  between  Pope  and  James 

Mordaunt,  the  nephew  of  Lord  Peterborough,  Moore-Smythe  were  omitted  by  Pope  on  reprint- 

who  committed  suicide  in  1724.     On  this  occa-  ing  the  poem,  but  introduced  (slightly  altered) 

sion  the  following  lines  were  added:  in  the  Characters  of  WotMen  {Moral Essays^ 

Ep.  II.  vv,  243-248).] 


492  MISCELLAJVEOUS. 

Without  a  Pain,  a  Trouble,  or  a  Fear ; 

Till  Death  unfelt  that  tender  frame  destroy, 

In  some  soft  Dream,  or  Extasy  of  joy, 

Peaceful  sleep  out  the  Sabbath  of  the  Tomb, 

And  wake  to  Raptures  in  a  Life  to  come.  20 


THE   CHALLENGE.! 

A  COURT  BALLAD. 

To  the  Tunc  of  *  To  all  you  Ladies  now  at  Land,'  &c.    [By  Dorset.  J 

Written  anno  1717.     Warton. 

[This  delightful  trifle  is  addressed  to  Pope's  charming  friends  at  the  Court  of  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  (afterwards  King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline),  and 
is  full  ot  petits  mots  alluding  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  their  society.] 

I. 

TO  one  fair  lady  out  of  Court, 
And  two  fair  ladies  in. 
Who  think  the  Turk  ^  and  Pope  ^  a  sport, 

And  wit  and  love  no  sin ! 
Come,  these  soft  lines,  with  nothing  stiff  in,  5 

To  Bellenden,4  Lepell,^  and  Griffin.^ 
With  a  fa,  la,  la. 

II. 
What  passes  in  the  dark  third  row, 

And  what  behind  the  scene, 
Couches  and  crippled  chairs  I  know,  10 

And  garrets  hung  with  green ; 
I  know  the  swing  of  sinful  hack. 
Where  many  damsels  cry  alack. 
With  a  fa,  la,  la. 

III. 
Then  why  to  Courts  should  I  repair,  15 

Where 's  such  ado  with  Townshend  ?  "^ 

1  [This  delightful  trifle  is  addressed  to  Pope's  most  agreeable,  the  most  insinuating,  and  the 
charming  friends  at  the  Court  of  the  Prince  and  most  likeable  woman  of  her  time;  made  up  of 
Princess  of  Wales  (afterwards  King  George  II.  every  ingredient  likely  to  engage  or  attach  a 
and  Queen  Caroline),  and  is  full  o( petits  mots  lover.*] 

alluding  to  the  ladies  and   gentlemen  of  their         ^  [The  beautiful  Miss  Mary  Lepell,  Maid  of 

society.]  Honour  to  the  Princess  Caroline,  and  afterwards 

2  Ulrick,  the  little  Turk.     P.  married  to  Lord  Hervey.     Born  1700;  married 
8  The  author.     P.  1720;  died  1768.] 

*  [Mary,  youngest  daughter  of  the  second  6  [Sister  to  the  Lady  Rich  mentioned  below.] 

Lord    Bellenden,   was    afterwards    married    to  '  [Lord  Townshend  was  dismissed  from  office 

Colonel  Campbell,  who  became  after  her  death  in  1616,  the  King  being  jealous  of  his  supposed 

fifth  Duke  of  Argyll.     Lord  Hervey  {Memoirs ,  subserviency  to  the  Prince  of  Wales.] 
Vol.  I.  p.  54)  speaks  of  her  as  *  incontestably  the 


MISCELLANEOUS.  493 

To  hear  each  mortal  stamp  and  swear, 

And  every  speech  with  "  Zounds  "  end ; 
To  hear  them  rail  at  honest  Sunderland,^ 
And  rashly  blame  the  realm  of  Blunderland.  20 

With  a  fa,  la,  la. 

IV. 

Alas!  like  Schutz^  I  cannot  pun, 

Like  Grafton  ^  court  the  Germans ; 
Tell  Pickenbourg  how  slim  she 's  grown, 

Like  Meadows  run  to  sermons ;  25 

To  court  ambitious  men  may  roam. 
But  I  and  Marlbro'  ^  stay  at  home. 
With  a  fa,  la,  la. 


In  truth,  by  what  I  can  discern. 

Of  courtiers,  'twixt  you  three,  30 

Some  wit  you  have,  and  more  may  learn 

From  Court,  than  Gay  or  Me : 
Perhaps,  in  time,  you  '11  leave  high  diet, 
To  sup  with  us  on  milk  and  quiet. 

With  a  fa,  la,  la.  35 


At  Leicester  Fields,^  a  house  full  high, 

With  door  all  painted  green. 
Where  ribbons  wave  upon  the  tie, 

(A  Milliner,  I  mean  ;) 
There  may  you  meet  us  three  to  three,  40 

For  Gay  ^  can  well  make  two  of  Me. 
With  a  fa,  la,  la. 


But  should  you  catch  the  prudish  itch. 

And  each  become  a  coward, 
Bring  sometimes  with  you  lady  Rich,^  45 

And  sometimes  mistress  Howard ;  ^ 
For  virgins,  to  keep  chaste,  must  go 
Abroad  with  such  as  are  not  so. 
With  a  fa,  la,  la. 

*  [The  Earl  of  Sunderland,  Lord-Lieutenant         ^  [Now  Leicester  Square,  where    Leicester 
of  Ireland.]  House,   the   town   residence  of  the   Prince   of 

2  [See  Imit.  of  Horace,  Bk.  i.  Ep.  i.  v.  112.]  Wales,  was  situate.] 

*  [Charles  second  Duke  of  Grafton,  born  in         «  [Alluding  to  Gay's  rotundity  of  person.] 
1683;  afterwards  Lord  Chamberlain.]  7  [Lady  Rich,  daughter  of  Col.  Griffin  and 

*  [Henrietta  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  whom  wife  of  Sir  Robert  Rich.     Many  of  Lady  M.  W. 
Pope  is  believed  to  have  so  cruelly  satirised  as  Montagu's  letters  are  addressed  to  her.] 

the  '  Flavia '  of  Moral  Essays ^  Ep.  11.  vv.  87  ff.]         »  [See  On  a  Certain  Lady  at  Court,  p.  495.] 


494  MISCELLANEOUS, 


And  thus,  fair  maids,  my  ballad  ends ;  50 

God  send  the  king  safe  landing; 
And  make  all  honest  ladies  friends 

To  armies  that  are  standing ; 
Preserve  the  limits  of  those  nations, 

And  take  off  ladies' limitations.  55 

With  a  fa,  la,  la. 


ANSWER  TO  THE  FOLLOWING  QUESTION  OF  MRS.  HOWE.i 
''HAT  is  Prudery? 


w 


'T  is  a  Beldam, 
Seen  with  Wit  and  Beauty  seldom. 
'T  is  a  fear  that  starts  at  shadows. 
'T  is  (no,  't  is  n't)  like  Miss  Meadows* 
'T  is  a  Virgin  hard  of  Feature,  5 

Old,  and  void  of  all  good-nature ; 
Lean  and  fretful ;  would  seem  wise ; 
Yet  plays  the  fool  before  she  dies. 
'T  is  an  ugly  envious  Shrew, 
That  rails  at  dear  Lepell  and  You.  lo 


SONG,  BY  A  PERSON  OF  QUALITY. 

Written  in  the  Year  1733. 

I. 

FLUTTERING  spread  thy  purple  Pinions, 
Gentle  Cupid,  o'er  my  Heart ; 
I  a  Slave  in  thy  Dominions ; 
Nature  must  give  Way  to  Art. 

II. 
Mild  Arcadians,  ever  blooming,  5 

Nightly  nodding  o'er  your  Flocks, 
See  my  weary  Days  consuming. 

All  beneath  yon  flow'ry  Rocks. 

III. 
Thus  the  Cyprian  Goddess  weeping, 

Mourn'd  Adonis^  darling  Youth :  lo 

Him  the  Boar  in  Silence  creeping, 

Gor'd  with  unrelenting  Tooth. 

1  Mary,  daughter  of  Viscount  Howe,  Maid  of    brother  to  the  Earl  of  Peterborough.    Croker; 
Honour  to  Queen  Caroline,  married  Lord  Pem-    note  to  Lord  Hervey's  Memoirs, 
brokei  and  after  his  death  Colonel  Mordaunt, 


MISCELLANEOUS.  495 


Cynthia^  tune  harmonious  Numbers ; 

Fair  Discretion^  string  the  Lyre ; 
Sooth  my  ever-waking  Slumbers :  15 

Bright  Apollo,  lend  thy  Choir. 


Gloomy  Pluto,  King  of  Terrors, 

<ArmM  in  adamantine  Chains, 
Lead  me  to  the  Crystal  Mirrors, 

Wat'ring  soft  Elysian  Plains.  20 

VI. 

Mournful  Cypress,  verdant  Willow, 

Gilding  my  Aurelia's  Brows, 
Morpheus  hovVing  o'er  my  Pillow, 

Hear  me  pay  my  dying  Vows. 


Melancholy  smooth  Mceandery  25 

Swiftly  purling  in  a  Round, 
On  thy  Margin  Lovers  wander, 

With  thy  flow'ry  Chaplets  crown'd. 

VIII. 

Thus  when  Philomela  drooping, 

Softly  seeks  her  silent  Mate,  30 

See  the  Bird  of  Juno  stooping ; 

Melody  resigns  to  Fate. 


ON  A  CERTAIN  LADY  AT  COURT.i 

I  KNOW  the  thing  that 's  most  uncommon ; 
(Envy,  be  silent,  and  attend!) 
I  know  a  reasonable  Woman, 

Handsome  and  witty,  yet  a  Friend. 

Not  warp'd  by  Passion,  aw'd  by  Rumour,  5 

Not  grave  thro'  Pride,  or  gay  through  Folly, 

An  equal  Mixture  of  good  Humour, 
And  sensible  soft  Melancholy. 

"  Has  she  no  faults  then  (Envy  says).  Sir  ?" 

Yes,  she  has  one,  I  must  aver ;  10 

When  all  the  World  conspires  to  praise  her, 
The  Woman  's  deaf,  and  does  not  hear. 

1  The  lady  addressed  was  Mrs.  Howard,  bed-  pole,  quoted  by  Carruthers,  granted  the  repriev* 

chamber  woman  to  Queen  Caroline,  and  after-  of  a  condemned  malefactor,  in  order  that  an 

wards  Countess  of  Suffolk,    Warton.   [Mistress  experiment  might  be  made  on  his  ears  for  her 

of  George  II.,  who,  according  to  Horace  Wal-  benefit.] 


496  MISCELLANEOUS. 


A  FAREWELL  TO   LONDON, 

IN  THE  YEAR  I715. 

[The  second  stanza  of  this  has  been  omitted.] 

DEAR,  damn'd  distracting  town,  farewell! 
Thy  fools  no  more  I  '11  tease : 
This  year  in  peace,  ye  critics,  dwell, 
Ye  harlots,  sleep  at  ease! 

Soft  B and  rough  C s  adieu,  J 

Earl  Warwick  make  your  moan, 
The  lively  H k  and  you 

May  knock  up  whores  alone.^ 

To  drink  and  droll  be  Rowe  allow'd 

Till  the  third  watchman's  toll ;  10 

Let  Jervas  gratis  paint,  and  Frowde 

Save  three-pence  and  his  soul. 

Farewell,  Arbuthnot's  raillery 

On  every  learned  sot ; 
And  Garth,  the  best  good  Christian  he^  15 

Although  he  knows  it  not. 

Lintot,  farewell !  thy  bard  must  go ; 

Farewell,  unhappy  Tonson! 
Heaven  gives  thee  for  thy  loss  of  Rowe,^ 

Lean  Philips,  and  fat  Johnson. ^  20 

Why  should  I  stay?     Both  parties  rage; 

My  vixen  mistress  squalls  ; 
The  wits  in  envious  feuds  engage : 

And  Homer  (damn  him!)  calls.* 

The  love  of  arts  lies  cold  and  dead  25 

In  Halifax's  urn: 
And  not  one  Muse  of  all  he  fed 

Has  yet  the  grace  to  mourn.^ 

My  friends,  by  turns,  my  friends  confound, 

Betray,  and  are  betrayed :  30 

Poor  Y r  's  sold  for  fifty  pound, 

And  B 11  is  a  jade.^ 

1  [C — s  is  evidently  Craggs  ;  and  H — k,  as    pend  for  a  season  the  poetical  and  publishing 
Carruthers  interprets  the  hiatus,  Lord  Hinchin-    pursuits  of  Rowe.     Carruthers. 

brook,  a  young  nobleman  of    spirit  and  fash-         3  Qi  Umbra,  v.  3.] 

ion.]  *  [The  first  four  books  of  the  Iliad  were  pub- 

2  Rowe  had  the  year  before,  on  the  accession    lished  in  this  year.] 

of  George  I.,  been  made  Poet  Laureate,  one  of  ^  [Lord   Halifax,  who  offered   a  pension  to 

the  land-surveyors  of  the  port  of  London,  Clerk  Pope  died  in  this  year.] 

of  the  Closet  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  Secre-  «  [Most  likely  Miss  Younger  and  Mrs.  Bick- 

tary  of  Presentations  under  the  Lord  Chancellor,  nell,  sisters,  both  actresses.    Carruthers.  [Mrs. 

Such  an  accumulation  of  offices  might  well  sus-  Bickneli  acted  Phoebe  Clinket  in  Pope's  farce.] 


MISCELLANEOUS,  497 

Why  make  I  friendships  with  the  great, 

When  I  no  favour  seek  ? 
Or  follow  girls,  seven  hours  in  eight?  35 

I  us'd  but  once  a  week. 

Still  idle,  with  a  busy  air. 

Deep  whimsies  to  contrive ; 
The  gayest  valetudinaire, 

Most  thinking  rake,  alive.  40 

Solicitous  for  others'  ends. 

Though  fond  of  dear  repose ; 
Careless  or  drowsy  with  my  friends, 

And  frolic  with  my  foes. 

Luxurious  lobster-nights,  farewell,  45 

For  sober,  studious  days ! 
And  Burlington's  delicious  meal, 

For  salads,  tarts,  and  pease! 

Adieu  to  all,  but  Gay  alone. 

Whose  soul,  sincere  and  free,  %0 

Loves  all  mankind,  but  flatters  none> 

And  so  may  starve  with  me. 


THE  BASSET-TABLE. 

AN   ECLOGUE. 

Only  this  of  all  the  Town  Eclogues  was  Mr.  Pope's ;  and  is  here  printed  from  a 
copy  corrected  by  his  own  hand. —  The  humour  of  it  consists  in  this,  that  the  one  is  in 
love  with  the  Game,  and  the  other  with  the  Sharper.  Warburton.  [The  original  edi- 
tion of  the  Town  Eclogues  was  published  in  17 16  anonymously,  and  consisted  of  three 
eclogues,  written  to  parody  the  Pastorals  of  Pope  and  Philips,  entitled  respectively  the 
Basset-Table,  the  Drawing-Room,  and  The  Toilet.  They  were  first  ascribed  to  Gay, 
to  whose  mock  pastorals  they  bear  much  resemblance.  Three  others  were  added  by 
the  same  hand  which  had  written  all  the  Town  Eclogues  except  the  Basset-Table,  viz. 
that  of  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu.] 

Cardelia.    Smilinda. 
cardelia. 

THE  B asset-Table  spread,  the  Tallier  come ;  * 
Why  stays  Smilinda  in  the  Dressing-Room? 
Rise,  pensive  Nymph,  the  Tallier  waits  for  you : 

1  [Basset  was  a  game  commonly  played  in    issued  an  ordinance  prohibiting  it  and  similar 
England  at  the  period  after  the   Restoration;     games.      CAatto.] 
and  in  France  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  who 
2K     . 


498  MISCELLANEOUS. 


SMILINDA. 


Ah,  Madam,  since  my  Sharper  is  untrue, 
I  joyless  make  my  once  ador'd  Alpeu. 
I  saw  him  stand  behind  Ombrelia's  Chair, 
And  whisper  with  that  soft,  deluding  air, 
And  those  feign'd  sighs  which  cheat  the  list'ning  Fair. 


CARDELIA. 


Is  this  the  cause  of  your  Romantic  strains? 
A  mightier  grief  my  heavy  heart  sustains.  lo 

As  You  by  Love,  so  I  by  Fortune  crossed; 
One,  one  bad  Deal,  Three  Septleva's  have  lost. 


SMILINDA. 


Is  that  the  grief,  which  you  compare  with  mine? 
With  ease,  the  smiles  of  Fortune  I  resign : 
Would  all  my  gold  in  one  bad  Deal  were  gone ; 
Were  lovely  Sharper  mine,  and  mine  alone. 


CARDELIA. 

A  Lover  lost,  is  but  a  common  care ; 
And  prudent  Nymphs  against  that  change  prepare : 
The  Knave  of  Clubs  thrice  lost :  Oh !  who  could  guess 
This  fatal  stroke,  this  unforeseen  Distress  ?  20 

SMILINDA. 

See  Betty  Lovet?  very  apropos, 
She  all  the  cares  of  Love  and  Play  does  know : 
Dear  Betty  shall  th'  important  point  decide ; 
Betty,  who  oft  the  pain  of  each  has  try'd ; 
Impartial,  she  shall  say  who  suffers  most,  25 

By  Cards'^  III  Usage,  or  by  Lovers  lost, 

LOVET. 

Tell,  tell  your  griefs ;  attentive  will  I  stay, 
Tho'  Time  is  precious,  and  I  want  some  Tea. 

CARDELIA. 

Behold  this  Equipage,  by  Mathers  wrought. 
With  Fifty  Guineas  (a  great  Pen'worth)  bought.  30 

See,  on  the  Tooth-pick,  Mars  and  Cupid  strive ; 
And  both  the  struggling  figures  seem  alive. 
Upon  the  bottom  shines  the  Queen's  bright  Face ; 
A  Myrtle  Foliage  round  the  Thimble-Case. 
Jove,  Jove  himself,  does  on  the  Scissors  shine;  35 

The  Metal,  and  the  Workmanship,  divine! 


MISCELLANEOUS.  499 


SMILINDA. 

This  Snuff'BoXy  —  once  the  pledge  of  Sharper's  love, 
When  rival  beauties  for  the  Present  strove ; 
At  Corticellfs  he  the  Raffle  won  ; 

Then  first  his  Passion  was  in  public  shown :  40 

Hazardia  blush'd,  and  turned  her  Head  aside, 
A  Rival's  envy  (all  in  vain)  to  hide. 
This  Smiff-BoXy  —  on  the  Hinge  see  Brilliants  shine : 
This  Snuff'Box  will  I  stake ;  the  Prize  is  mine. 

CARDELIA. 

Alas !  far  lesser  losses  than  I  bear,  45 

Have  made  a  Soldier  sigh,  a  Lover  swear. 
And  Oh !  what  makes  the  disappointment  hard, 
'T  was  my  own  Lord  that  drew  ih^  fatal  Card, 
In  complaisance,  I  took  the  Queen  he  gave ; 
Tho'  my  own  secret  wish  was  for  the  Knave,  50 

The  Knave  won  Sonica,  which  I  had  chose ; 
And,  the  next  Pull,  my  Sept  leva  I  lose. 

SMILINDA. 

But  ah!  what  aggravates  the  killing  smart, 
The  cruel  thought,  that  stabs  me  to  the  heart ; 
This  curs'd  Ombrelia,  this  undoing  Fair,  55 

By  whose  vile  arts  this  heavy  grief  I  bear ; 
She,  at  whose  name  I  shed  these  spiteful  tears, 
She  owes  to  me  the  very  charms  she  wears. 
An  awkward  Thing,  when  first  she  came  to  Town ; 
Her  Shape  unfashion'd,  and  her  Face  unknown :  60 

She  was  my  friend ;  I  taught  her  first  to  spread 
Upon  her  sallow  cheeks  enliv'ning  red : 
I  introduced  her  to  the  Park  and  Plays ; 
And,  by  my  interest,  Cozens  made  her  Stays. 
Ungrateful  wretch,  with  mimic  airs  grown  pert,  65 

She  dares  to  steal  my  Fav'rite  Lover's  heart. 

CARDELIA. 

Wretch  that  I  was,  how  often  have  I  swore. 
When  WiNNALL  tally' d,  I  Yfonld.  punt  no  more? 
I  know  the  Bite,  yet  to  my  Ruin  run ; 
And  see  the  Folly,  which  I  cannot  shun.  70 

SMILINDA. 

How  many  Maids  have  Sharper's  vows  deceiv'd? 
How  many  curs'd  the  moment  they  believ'd? 
Yet  his  known  Falsehoods  could  no  Warning  prove : 
Ah !  what  is  warning  to  a  Maid  in  Love  ? 


500 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


CARDELIA. 


But  of  what  marble  must  that  breast  be  form'd,  75 

To  gaze  on  Basset^  and  remain  unwarm'd? 
When  Kings,  Queens,  Knaves,  are  set  in  decent  rank ; 
Expos'd  in  glorious  heaps  the  tempting  Bank, 
Guineas,  Half-Guineas,  all  the  shining  train ; 
The  Winner's  pleasure,  and  the  Loser's  pain :  80 

In  bright  Confusion  open  Rouleaux  lie. 
They  strike  the  Soul,  and  glitter  in  the  Eye. 
Fir'd  by  the  sight,  all  Reason  I  disdain ; 
My  Passions  rise,  and  will  not  bear  the  rein. 
Look  upon  Basset,  you  who  Reason  boast ;  85 

And  see  if  Reason  must  not  there  be  lost. 

SMILINDA. 

What  more  than  marble  must  that  heart  compose, 
Can  hearken  coldly  to  my  Sharper's  Vows? 
Then,  when  he  trembles!  when  his  Blushes  rise! 
When  awful  Love  seems  melting  in  his  Eyes!  90 

With  eager  beats  his  Mechlin  Cravat  moves : 
^He  Loves,''  — I  whisper  to  myself,  'He  Loves  I'* 
Such  unfeign'd  Passion  in  his  Looks  appears, 
I  lose  all  Mem'ry  of  my  former  Fears  ; 

My  panting  heart  confesses  all  his  charms,  95 

I  yield  at  once,  and  sink  into  his  arms : 
Think  of  that  moment,  you  who  Prudence  boast ; 
For  such  a  moment,  Prudence  well  were  lost. 

CARDELIA. 

At  the  Groom-Porter's,  batter'd  Bullies  play. 
Some  Dukes  at  Mary-Bone  bowl  Time  away.^  loo 

But  who  the  Bowl,  or  ratfling  Dice  compares 
To  Bassefs  heav'nly  Joys,  and  pleasing  Cares? 

SMILINDA. 

Soft  SiMPLiCETTA  doats  upon  a  Beau ; 
Prudina  likes  a  Man,  and  laughs  at  Show. 
Their  several  graces  in  my  Sharper  meet ;  105 

Strong  as  the  Footman,  as  the  Master  sweet. 

LOVET. 

Cease  your  contention,  which  has  been  too  long; 
I  grow  impatient,  and  the  Tea 's  too  strong. 
Attend,  and  yield  to  what  I  now  decide ; 

1  [The  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire  (Sheffield)     Cunningham's  London.     As  to  the  Groom-Por 
was  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  the  bowling-alley    ter's,  cf.  note  to  Dunctad,  Bk,  i.  v.  309.] 
behind  the  manor-house  of  Marylebone  parish. 


MISCELLANEOUS,  501 

The  Equipage  shall  grace  Smilinda's  Side:  Iio 

The  Snuff-Box  to  Cardelia  I  decree, 
Now  leave  complaining,  and  begin  your  Tea. 


TO  LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

[Originally  published  in  a  Miscellany  of  the  year  172a] 

I. 


r 


fN  beauty,  or  wit, 
No  mortal  as  yet 
To  question  your  empire  has  dared : 
But  men  of  discerning 
Have  thought  that  in  learning, 
To  yield  to  a  lady  was  hard. 


Impertinent  schools, 

With  musty  dull  rules, 
Have  reading  to  females  denied ; 

So  Papists  refuse  10 

The  Bible  to  use. 
Lest  flocks  should  be  wise  as  their  guide. 


'T  was  a  woman  at  first 

(Indeed  she  was  curst) 
In  knowledge  that  tasted  delight,  15 

And  sages  agree 

The  laws  should  decree 
To  the  first  possessor  the  right. 


Then  bravely,  fair  dame, 

Resume  the  old  claim,  20 

Which  to  your  whole  sex  does  belong; 

And  let  men  receive, 

From  a  second  bright  Eve, 
The  knowledge  of  right  and  of  wrong. 


But  if  the  first  Eve  25 

Hard  doom  did  receive, 
When  only  one  apple  had  she, 

What  a  punishment  new 

Shall  be  found  out  for  you. 
Who  tasting,  have  robb'd  the  whole  tree?  30 


502  MISCELLANEOUS, 

EXTEMPORANEOUS   LINES, 

ON  THE  PICTURE  OF   LADY  MARY  W.   MONTAGU, 

BY   KNELLER. 

[Bowles,  from  Dallaway's  Life  of  Lady  M,  W.  M.] 

THE  playful  smiles  around  the  dimpled  mouth, 
That  happy  air  of  majesty  and  truth ; 
So  would  I  draw  (but  oh !  't  is  vain  to  try, 
My  narrow  genius  does  the  power  deny ;) 
The  equal  lustre  of  the  heav'nly  mind,  5 

Where  evVy  grace  with  every  virtue  's  join'd ; 
Learning  not  vain,  and  wisdom  not  severe, 
With  greatness  easy,  and  with  wit  sincere ; 
With  just  description  show  the  work  divine, 
And  the  whole  princess  in  my  work  should  shine.  10 

IMITATION   OF   TIBULLUS. 

Pope,  in  his  letters  to  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  in  the  East,  expresses  a  desire, 
real  or  fanciful,  to  meet  her.  '  But  if  my  fate  be  such,'  he  says,  '  that  this  body  of  mine 
(which  is  as  ill  matched  to  my  mind  as  any  wife  to  her  husband)  be  left  behind  in  the 
journey,  let  the  epitaph  of  Tibullus  be  set  over  it.'  Carruthers.  [The  letter  is  in  Bowles, 
Vol.  VIII.    The  original  is  TibuU.  Lib.  I.  Eleg.  iv.  55-6.] 

HERE,  stopt  by  hasty  death,  Alexis  lies, 
Who  crossed  half  Europe,  led  by  Wortley's  eyes. 


EPITAPHS 

ON  JOHN   HUGHES  AND  SARAH   DREW. 

[Pope,  in  a  letter  to  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu,  Sept.  ist,  1718,  written  from  Stanton- 
Harcourt,  Lord  Harcourt's  seat  in  Oxfordshire,  relates  the  anecdote  of  the  death  of 
two  lovers  '  as  constant  as  ever  were  found  in  romance,'  by  name  John  Hewet  and 
Sarah  Drew,  who  were  simultaneously  struck  by  lightning  at  a  harvest-home;  and 
sends  her  two  epitaphs  composed  by  him,  '  of  which  the  critics  have  chosen  the  godly 
one.'  (See  Lord  Wharncliffe's  Letters,  &c.  II.  100.)  Lady  Mary  (Nor.  ist,  episd. 
ann.)  returned  a  decidedly  cynical  answer,  with  an  epitaph  of  her  own,  commencing, 


*  Here  lie  John  Hughes  and  Sarah  Drew; 
Perhaps  you  '11  say,  What 's  that  to  you?  * 


and  concluding,  after  a  doubt  whether  perchance  '  't  was  not  kindly  done,'  considering 
the  chances  of  married  life, 

*  Now  they  are  happy  in  their  doom, 
For  Pope  has  wrote  upon  their  tomb.' 

According  to  Gay's  letter  to  Mr.  F (Aug.  9th,  1718),  Lord  Harcourt,  apprehensive 

that  the  country  people  would  not  understand  even  the  godly  epitaph,  determined  to 


MISCELLANEOUS,  503 

substitute  one '  with  something  of  Scripture  in  it,  and  with  as  little  of  poetry  as  Hopkins 
and  Sternhold.'     This  prose  epitaph  was  also  written  by  Pope.] 

WHEN  Eastern  lovers  feed  the  funVal  fire, 
On  the  same  pile  the  faithful  fair  expire: 
Here  pitying  Heav'n  that  virtue  mutual  found, 
And  blasted  both,  that  it  might  neither  wound. 
Hearts  so  sincere  th'  Almighty  saw  well  pleas'd,  5 

Sent  his  own  lightning,  and  the  victims  seized. 

I. 
Think  not,  by  rig'rous  judgment  seiz'd, 

A  pair  so  faithful  could  expire ; 
Victims  so  pure  Heav'n  saw  well  pleas'd, 

And  snatch'd  them  in  celestial  fire.  10 


Live  well,  and  fear  no  sudden  fate ; 

When  God  calls  virtue  to  the  grave, 
Alike  't  is  justice,  soon  or  late, 

Mercy  alike  to  kill  or  save. 
Virtue  unmov'd  can  hear  the  call,  15 

And  face  the  flash  that  melts  the  ball. 


ON  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BURLINGTON  CUTTING  PAPER. 

[The  lady  of  Pope's  friend,  to  whom  Ep.  IV.  of  the  Moral  Essays  is  addressed.    Her 
maiden  name  was  Lady  Dorothy  Saville.] 

PALLAS  grew  vapourish  once,  and  odd, 
She  would  not  do  the  least  right  thing. 
Either  for  goddess,  or  for  god, 

Nor  work,  nor  play,  nor  paint,  nor  sing. 

Jove  frown'd,  and,  "  Use,"  he  cried,  '*  those  eyes  5 

So  skilful,  and  those  hands  so  taper ; 
Do  something  exquisite  and  wise  —  " 

She  bow'd,  obeyed  him,  —  and  cut  paper. 

This  vexing  him  who  gave  her  birth. 

Thought  by  all  heaven  a  burning  shame ;  10 

What  does  she  next,  but  bids,  on  earth, 

Her  Burlington  do  just  the  same. 

Pallas,  you  give  yourself  strange  airs ; 

But  sure  you  '11  find  it  hard  to  spoil 
The  sense  and  taste  of  one  that  bears  IS 

The  name  of  Saville  and  of  Boyle. 

Alas !  one  bad  example  shown ; 

How  quickly  all  the  sex  pursue! 
See,  madam,  see  the  arts  o'erthrown. 

Between  John  Overton  and  you!  20 


504  MISCELLANEOUS, 

ON  A  PICTURE   OF   QUEEN   CAROLINE, 

DRAWN  BY  LADY  BURLINGTON. 

PEACE,  flattering  Bishop  !i  lying  Dean!^ 
This  portrait  only  paints  the  Queen ! 

THE   LOOKING-GLASS. 

ON  MRS.   PULTENEY.3 

WITH  scornful  mien,  and  various  toss  of  aiTi 
Fantastic,  vain,  and  insolently  fair, 
Grandeur  intoxicates  her  giddy  brain, 
She  looks  ambition,  and  she  moves  disdain. 
Far  other  carriage  grac'd  her  virgin  life,  j 

But  charming  G y's  lost  in  P y's  wife. 

Not  greater  arrogance  in  him  we  find. 

And  this  conjunction  swells  at  least  her  mind: 

O  could  the  sire  renownM  in  glass,  produce 

One  faithful  mirror  for  his  daughter's  use!  ID 

Wherein  she  might  her  haughty  errors  trace, 

And  by  reflection  learn  to  mend  her  face: 

The  wonted  sweetness  to  her  form  restore, 

Be  what  she  was,  and  charm  mankind  once  more! 

ON   CERTAIN   LADIES. 

WHEN  other  fair  ones  to  the  shades  go  down, 
Still  Chloe,  Flavia,  Delia,  stay  in  town : 
Those  ghosts  of  beauty  wandering  here  reside, 
And  haunt  the  places  where  their  honour  died. 

CELIA. 

CELIA,  we  know,  is  sixty-five, 
Yet  Celiacs  face  is  seventeen ; 
Thus  winter  in  her  breast  must  live, 
While  summer  in  her  face  is  seen. 

How  cruel  Celia's  fate,  who  hence  5 

Our  heart's  devotion  cannot  try ; 
Too  pretty  for  our  reverence. 

Too  ancient  for  our  gallantry ! 

1  Dr.  Gilbert.     Carruthers,     [Or  it  might  Gumley  of  Isleworth,  who  had  gained  his  fortune 
be  Hoadley.]  by  a  glass  manufactory,  was  married  to  Pulteney, 

2  Dr.  Alured  Clarke.    Id.  afterwards  Earl  of  Bath.] 

3  f  Anna   Maria  Gumley,  daughter  of  John 


MISCELLANEOUS.  505 


EPIGRAM. 

ENGRAVED  ON  THE  COLLAR  OF  A  DOG  WHICH  I  GAVE  TO  HIS 
ROYAL  HIGHNESS.^ 


I 


AM  his  Highness^  dog  at  Kew ; 
Pray  tell  me,  sir,  whose  dog  are  you? 


LINES   SUNG  BY  DURASTANTP  WHEN   SHE   TOOK   LEAVE 
OF   THE   ENGLISH    STAGE. 

THE    WORDS    WERE    IN    HASTE    PUT    TOGETHER    BY    MR.    POPE,    AT    THE 
REQUEST  OF  THE  EARL  OF  PETERBOROUGH. 

GEN'ROUS,  gay,  and  gallant  nation, 
Bold  in  arms,  and  bright  in  arts ; 
Land  secure  from  all  invasion, 
All  but  Cupid's  gentle  darts  ! 
From  your  charms,  oh  who  would  run?  j 

Who  would  leave  you  for  the  sun  1 
Happy  soil,  adieu,  adieu! 

Let  old  charmers  yield  to  new ; 

In  arms,  in  arts,  be  still  more  shining; 
All  your  joys  be  still  increasing ;  lO 

All  your  tastes  be  still  refining ; 
All  your  jars  for  ever  ceasing : 

But  let  old  charmers  yield  to  new. 

Happy  soil,  adieu,  adieu! 


ON  HIS  GROTTO  AT  TWICKENHAM, 

COMPOSED  OF 

MARBLES,   SPARS,   GEMS,   ORES,  AND  MINERALS.^ 

THOU  who  shalt  stop,  where  Tha7nes''  translucent  wave 
Shines  a  broad  Mirror  thro'  the  shadowy  Cave ; 
Where  lingering  drops  from  mineral  Roofs  distill. 
And  pointed  Crystals  break  the  sparkling  Rill, 

1  [Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales.  Roscoe  traces  She  took  a  formal  leave  of  the  English  stage,  for 
the  idea  of  this  epigram  to  Sir  W.  Temple's //^a^j  which  occasion  the  above  lines  were  composed 
designed  for  an  Essay  on  Conversation. '\  by  Pope,   at   her  patron's  desire.     Arbuthnot 

2  [Margherita  Durastanti  was  brought  out  at  wrote  a  burlesque  version  of  them,  which  is  not 
the  English  Opera-house  by  Handel,  and  sang  remarkably  witty.  See  Hogarth's  Memoirs  of 
in  his  operas  and  those  of  Bononisni  from  1719  the  Musical  Drama,] 

to  1723.     She  then  retired,  finding  herself  unable         ^  {^As  to  Pope's  grotto,  see  Introductory  Me- 
to  contend  with  the  superior  powers  of  Cuzzoni.     moir,  p.  xxxiv.] 


5o6  MISCELLANEOUS. 

Unpolish'd  Gems  no  ray  on  Pride  bestow,  J 

And  latent  Metals  innocently  glow  : 

Approach!     Great  Nature  studiously  behold », 

And  eye  the  Mine  without  a  wish  for  Gold. 

Approach  ;  but  awful !  Lo  I  th'  Egerian  Grot, 

Where,  nobly-pensive,  St.  John  sate  and  thought ;  lo 

Where  British  sighs  from  dying  Wyndham  stole,^ 

And  the  bright  flame  was  shot  thro'  M archmont's  ^  Soul. 

Let  such,  such  only  tread  this  sacred  Floor, 

Who  dare  to  love  their  Country,  and  be  poor. 

VERSES   TO   MR.    C.3 

ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.      LONDON,   OCT.    22. 

FEW  words  are  best ;  I  wish  you  well ; 
Bethel,  I  'm  told,  will  soon  be  here ; 
Some  morning  walks  along  the  Mall, 
And  ev'ning  friends,  will  end  the  year. 

If,  in  this  interval,  between  5 

The  falling  leaf  and  coming  frost. 
You  please  to  see,  on  Twit'nam  green. 

Your  friend,  your  poet,  and  your  host : 

For  three  whole  days  you  here  may  rest 

From  Office  business,  news  and  strife ;  lo 

And  (what  most  folks  would  think  a  jest) 

Want  nothing  else,  except  your  wife. 

TO   MR.    GAY, 

WHO  HAD   CONGRATULATED   MR.    POPE  ON  FINISHING   HIS   HOUSE 
AND   GARDENS. 

AH,  friend!  't  is  true  — this  truth  you  lovers  know  — 
In  vain  my  structures  rise,  my  gardens  grow ; 
In  vain  fair  Thames  reflects  the  double  scenes 
Of  hanging  mountains,  and  of  sloping  greens  : 
Joy  lives  not  here,  —  to  happier  seats  it  flies,  5 

And  only  dwells  where  Wortley  casts  her  eyes. 
What  are  the  gay  parterre,  the  chequer'd  shade. 
The  morning  bower,  the  ev'ning  colonnade, 
But  soft  recesses  of  uneasy  minds, 

To  sigh  unheard  in,  to  the  passing  winds?  10 

So  the  struck  deer  in  some  sequestered  part 
Lies  down  to  die,  the  arrow  at  his  heart ; 
He,  stretch'd  unseen  in  coverts  hid  from  day, 
Bleeds  drop  by  drop,  and  pants  his  life  away. 

*  [See  Epil.  to  Satires.    Dial.  11.  v.  88.]  '  [Probably  Craggs,  who  was  in  office  at  the 

2  [The  Earl  of  Marchmont,  afterwards  one  of     time  when  Pope  established  himself  at  Twicken- 
Pope's  executors.]  ham.] 


MISCELLANEOUS.  507 


UPON   THE   DUKE   OF   MARLBOROUGH'S   HOUSE 
AT   WOODSTOCK. 

'  Atria  longa  patent ;  sed  nee  coenantibus  usquam, 
Nee  somno,  locus  est:  quam  bene  non  habitas.' 

Martial,  Epigr.  [xii.  50.  vv.  7,  8.] 

[Blenheim,  built  by  Vanbrugh.  '  In  his  buildings,'  says  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
'  there  is  a  greater  display  of  imagination  than  we  shall  find  perhaps  in  any  other.' 
At  the  same  time  the  heaviness  of  his  style  of  architecture  was  the  subject  of  the  con- 
stant ridicule  of  Horace  Walpole  and  others.] 

SEE,  sir,  here  's  the  grand  approach ; 
This  way  is  for  his  Grace's  coach : 
There  lies  the  bridge,  and  here  's  the  clock, 
Observe  the  lion  and  the  cock, 

The  spacious  court,  the  colonnade,  5 

And  mark  how  wide  the  hall  is  made! 
The  chimneys  are  so  well  design^, 
They  never  smoke  in  any  wind. 
This  gallery 's  contrived  for  walking, 

The  windows  to  retire  and  talk  in ;  lO 

The  council  chamber  for  debate. 
And  all  the  rest  are  rooms  of  state. 
Thanks,  sir,  cried  I,  't  is  very  fine, 
But  where  d'  ye  sleep,  or  where  d'  ye  dine? 
I  find,  by  all  you  have  been  telling,  15 

That 't  is  a  house,  but  not  a  dwelling.^ 


ON  BEAUFORT  HOUSE  GATE  AT  CHISWICK. 

[The  Lord  Treasurer  Middlesex's  house  at  Chelsea,  after  passing  to  the  Duke  of 
Beaufort,  was  called  Beaufort  House.  It  was  afterwards  sold  to  Sir  Hans  Sloane. 
When  the  House  was  taken  down  in  1740,  its  gateway,  built  by  Inigo  Jones,  was 
given  by  Sir  Hans  Sloane  to  the  Earl  of  Burlington,  who  removed  it  with  the  greatest 
care  to  his  garden  at  Chiswick,  where  it  may  be  still  seen.    See  Cunningham's  London^ 

I  WAS  brought  from  Chelsea  last  year, 
BatterM  with  wind  and  weather ; 
Inigo  Jones  put  me  together; 
Sir  Hans  Sloane  let  me  alone ; 

Burlington  brought  me  hither. 

1  The  same  idea  is  used  by  Lord  Chesterfield  *  How  will  you  builds  let  flatt'ry  tell, 

in  his  Epigram  on  Burlington  House  :  And  all  mankind,  how  ill  you  dwell.' 

Bowles. 


508  MISCELLANEOUS, 


LINES   TO   LORD   BATHURST. 

[In  illustration  Mitford  refers  to  Pope's  letter  to  Lord  Bathurst  of  September  13, 
1732,  where  'Mr.  L. '  is  spoken  of  as  '  more  inclined  to  admire  God  in  his  greater 
works,  the  tall  timber.'  From  Mr.  Mitford's  notes  to  his  edition  of  Gray's  Correspond- 
ence with  the  Rev.  Norton  Nichols.  As  to  Lord  Bathurst's  improvements  at  Ciren- 
cester, to  which  these  lines  allude,  see  Moral  Essays^  Ep.  IV.  vv.  186  ff.] 

"   A    WOOD!  "  quoth  Lewis,  and  with  that 

i\  He  laugh'd,  and  shook  his  sides  of  fat. 
His  tongue,  with  eye  that  mark'd  his  cunning, 
Thus  fell  a-reasoning,  not  a-running : 

"  Woods  are  —  not  to  be  too  prolix  —  5 

Collective  bodies  of  straight  sticks. 
It  is,  my  lord,  a  mere  conundrum 
To  call  things  woods  for  what  grows  under  'em. 
For  shrubs,  when  nothing  else  at  top  is, 

Can  only  constitute  a  coppice.  10 

But  if  you  will  not  take  my  word, 
See  anno  quint,  of  Richard  Third; 
And  that 's  a  coppice  calPd,  when  dock'd, 
Witness  an.  prim,  of  Harry  Oct. 

If  this  a  wood  you  will  maintain,  15 

Merely  because  it  is  no  plain, 
Holland,  for  all  that  I  can  see, 
May  e'en  as  well  be  term'd  the  sea, 

Or  C by  ^  be  fair  harangued 

An  honest  man,  because  not  hang'd."  20 

INSCRIPTION   ON  A   PUNCH-BOWL, 

IN  THE   SOUTH-SEA    YEAR    [1720],  FOR  A  CLUB,  CHASED  WITH    JUPITER    PLACING 
CALLISTO   IN  THE  SKIES,  AND   EUROPA  WITH  THE  BULL. 

COME,  fill  the  South  Sea  goblet  full ; 
The  gods  shall  of  our  stock  take  care ; 
Europa  pleasM  accepts  the  Bull^ 

And  Jove  with  joy  puts  off  the  Bear?' 

VERBATIM   FROM   BOILEAU. 
Un  Jour  dit  un  Auteur^  etc.^ 

ONCE  (says  an  Author ;  where,  I  need  not  say) 
Two  Travelers  found  an  Oyster  in  their  way ; 
Both  fierce,  both  hungry ;  the  dispute  grew  strong, 

^  Thomas,  first  Lord  Coningsby,  a  zealous  they  gradually  came  into  general  use.     See  a 

promoter  of   the   Revolution  of   1688.       Car-  lively  discussion  of   the    subject,   and  of   the 

ruthers.  meaning  of  the  terms,  in  Notes  and  Queries 

2  [There    seons   no   doubt  that  these  terms  for  1859.] 
originated    in    the    South-Sea  year;    and   that         ^  [This  famous  fable  is  narrated  at  the  close 


MISCELLANEOUS.  509 

While  Scale  in  hand  Dame  Justice  past  along. 

Before  her  each  with  clamour  pleads  the  Laws,  5 

Explained  the  matter,  and  would  win  the  cause. 

Dame  Justice  weighing  long  the  doubtful  Right, 

Takes,  opens,  swallows  it,  before  their  sight. 

The  cause  of  strife  removed  so  rarely  well, 

"  There  take  "  (says  Justice)  "  take  ye  each  a  SheU,  lo 

We  thrive  at  Westminster  on  Fools  like  you ; 

'T  was  a  fat  Oyster  —  Live  in  peace  —  Adieu." 


EPIGRAM. 

MY  Lord  1  complains  that  Pope,  stark  mad  with  gardens, 
Has  cut  three  trees,  the  value  of  three  farthings. 
"  But  he  's  my  neighbour,"  cries  the  peer  polite : 
"And  if  he  visit  me,  I  '11  waive  the  right." 
What!  on  compulsion,  and  against  my  will, 
A  lord's  acquaintance?    Let  him  file  his  bill! 


EPIGRAM. 

[Explained  by  Carruthers  to  refer  to  the  large  sums  of  money  given  in  charity  on 
account  of  the  severity  of  the  weather  about  the  year  1740.] 

YES!  't  is  the  time,  (I  cried,)  impose  the  chain, 
Destined  and  due  to  wretches  self-enslaved ; 
But  when  I  saw  such  charity  remain, 
I  half  could  wish  this  people  should  be  saved. 

Faith  lost,  and  Hope,  our  Charity  begins ;  J 

And  't  is  a  wise  design  in  pitying  Heaven, 
If  this  can  cover  multitude  of  sins, 

To  take  the  only  way  to  be  forgiven. 


OCCASIONED    BY    READING    THE    TRAVELS    OF    CAPTAIN 

LEMUEL   GULLIVER. 

On  the  publication  of  Gulliver's  Travels  Pope  wrote  several  pieces  of  humour 
intended  to  accompany  the  work,  which  he  sent  to  Swift;  and  they  were  printed  in 
1727  under  the  title  of  Poems  occasioned  by  reading  the  Travels  of  Captain  Lemuel  Gul- 
liver explanatory  and  commendatory.  Roscoe.  [1.  II.  IV.  were  also  published  in  the 
joint  Miscellanies^ 

of  Boileau's  Second  Epistle  ;  and  is  said  to  be  he  erred;  inasmuch  as  it  is  not  the  judges  only, 
originally  derived  from  an  old  Italian  comedy,  but  all  the  officers  of  justice,  who  empty  the  pock- 
La  Fontaine,  who  also  versified  the  fable,  sub-  ets  of  litigants.     From  a  note  to  Amsterdam  cdi- 
stituted  a  judge  (named  Perrin  Dandin)  for  *  Jus-  tion  (1735)  of  CEuvres  de  Boileau.'\ 
tice ' ;  wherein,  according  to  Boileau's  opinion,         ^  Lord  Radnor.     Warton, 


5IO 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


I. 

TO   QUINBUS   FLESTRIN,  THE  MAN-MOUNTAIN. 

An  Ode  by  Tilly-Tit,  Poet  Laureate  to  His  Majesty  of  Lilliput.    Translated  intc 

English. 


r 


[N  amaze, 
Lost  I  gaze, 
Can  our  eyes 
Reach  thy  size  ? 
May  my  lays 
Swell  with  praise, 
Worthy  thee! 
Worthy  me ! 
Muse,  inspire. 
All  thy  fire! 
Bards  of  old 
Of  him  told, 
When  they  said 
Atlas'  head 
Propp'd  the  skies : 
See!  and  believe  your  eyes! 
See  him  stride 
Valleys  wide. 
Over  woods, 
Over  floods! 
When  he  treads. 
Mountains'  heads 
Groan  and  shake : 
Armies  quake : 
Lest  his  spurn 


Overturn 
Man  and  steed : 
Troops,  take  heed! 
Left  and  right, 
Speed  your  flight! 
Lest  an  host 

Beneath  his  foot  be  lost. 
TurnM  aside. 
From  his  hide. 
Safe  from  wound. 
Darts  rebound. 
From  his  nose 
Clouds  he  blows : 
When  he  speaks. 
Thunder  breaks! 
When  he  eats, 
Famine  threats! 
When  he  drinks, 
Neptune  shrinks! 
Nigh  thy  ear. 
In  mid  air, 
On  thy  hand 
Let  me  stand; 
So  shall  I, 

Lofty  Poet,  touch  the  sky. 


II. 

THE   LAMENTATION  OF  GLUMDALCLITCH   FOR  THE 
LOSS   OF   GRILDRIG. 

A   PASTORAL. 

SOON  as  Glumdalclitch  miss'd  her  pleasing  care. 
She  wept,  she  blubber'd,  and  she  tore  her  hair. 
No  British  miss  sincerer  grief  has  known, 
Her  squirrel  missing,  or  her  sparrow  flown. 
She  furPd  her  sampler,  and  hauPd  in  her  thread, 
And  stuck  her  needle  into  Grildrig's  bed  ; 
Then  spread  her  hands,  and  with  a  bounce  let  fall 
Her  baby,  like  the  giant  in  Guildhall. 
In  peals  of  thunder  now  she  roars,  and  now 


MISCELLANEOUS,  5 1 1 

She  gently  whimpers  like  a  lowing  cow :  10 

Yet  lovely  in  her  sorrow  still  appears, 

Her  locks  dishevelPd,  and  her  flood  of  tears 

Seem  like  the  lofty  barn  of  some  rich  swain, 

When  from  the  thatch  drips  fast  a  shower  of  rain. 

In  vain  she  searched  each  cranny  of  the  house,  15 

Each  gaping  chink  impervious  to  a  mouse. 
"Was  it  for  this"  (she  cryM)  "with  daily  care 
Within  thy  reach  I  set  the  vinegar! 
And  fill'd  the  cruet  with  the  acid  tide, 

While  pepper-water  worms  thy  bait  supply'd ;  20 

Where  twined  the  silver  eel  around  thy  hook. 
And  all  the  little  monsters  of  the  brook. 
Sure  in  that  lake  he  dropp'd ;  my  Grilly^s  drown'd." 
She  dragg'd  the  cruet,  but  no  Grildrig  found. 

"  Vain  is  thy  courage,  Grilly,  vain  thy  boast ;  25 

But  little  creatures  enterprise  the  most. 
Trembling,  I  Ve  seen  thee  dare  the  kitten's  paw, 
Nay,  mix  with  children,  as  they  play'd  at  taw, 
Nor  fear  the  marbles,  as  they  bounding  flew ; 
Marbles  to  them,  but  rolling  rocks  to  you.  30 

"Why  did  I  trust  thee  with  that  giddy  youth? 
Who  from  a  Page  can  ever  learn  the  truth  ? 
Versed  in  Court  tricks,  that  money-loving  boy 
To  some  Lord's  daughter  sold  the  living  toy ; 
Or  rent  him  limb  from  limb  in  cruel  play,  35 

As  children  tear  the  wings  of  flies  away. 
From  place  to  place  o'er  Brobdingnag  I  '11  roam, 
And  never  will  return  or  bring  thee  home. 
But  who  hath  eyes  to  trace  the  passing  wind? 
How,  then,  thy  fairy  footsteps  can  I  find?  40 

Dost  thou  bewilder'd  wander  all  alone. 
In  the  green  thicket  of  a  mossy  stone  ; 
Or  tumbled  from  the  toadstool's  slippery  round. 
Perhaps  all  maim'd,  lie  grov'lling  on  the  ground? 
Dost  thou,  embosom'd  in  the  lovely  rose,  45 

Or  sunk  within  the  peach's  down,  repose  ? 
Within  the  king-cup  if  thy  limbs  are  spread. 
Or  in  the  golden  cowslip's  velvet  head : 
O  show  me.  Flora,  midst  those  sweets,  the  flower 
Where  sleeps  my  Grildrig  in  his  fragrant  bower.  50 

"  But  ah !  I  fear  thy  little  fancy  roves 
On  little  females,  and  on  little  loves ; 
Thy  pygmy  children,  and  thy  tiny  spouse. 
Thy  baby  playthings  that  adorn  thy  house, 
Doors,  windows,  chimneys,  and  the  spacious  rooms,  55 

Equal  in  size  to  cells  of  honeycombs. 
Hast  thou  for  these  now  ventured  from  the  shore, 
Thy  bark  a  bean-shell,  and  a  straw  thy  oar? 
Or  in  thy  box,  now  bounding  on  the  main, 


512  MISCELLANEOUS, 

Shall  I  ne'er  bear  thyself  and  house  again?  60 

And  shall  I  set  thee  on  my  hand  no  more, 

To  see  thee  leap  the  lines,  and  traverse  o'er 

My  spacious  palm  ?     Of  stature  scarce  a  span, 

Mimic  the  actions  of  a  real  man  ? 

No  more  behold  thee  turn  my  watch's  key,  65 

As  seamen  at  a  capstern  anchors  weigh? 

How  wert  thou  wont  to  walk  with  cautious  tread, 

A  dish  of  tea  like  milk-pail  on  thy  head  ? 

How  chase  the  mite  that  bore  thy  cheese  away, 

And  keep  the  rolling  maggot  at  a  bay?"  70 

She  said,  but  broken  accents  stopp'd  her  voice, 
Soft  as  the  speaking-trumpet's  mellow  noise : 
She  sobb'd  a  storm,  and  wip'd  her  flowing  eyes. 
Which  seem'd  like  two  broad  suns  in  misty  skies. 
O  squander  not  thy  grief;  those  tears  command  75 

To  weep  upon  our  cod  in  Newfottndland : 
The  plenteous  pickle  shall  preserve  the  fish, 
And  Europe  taste  thy  sorrows  in  a  dish. 


III. 
TO  MR.   LEMUEL  GULLIVER, 

THE  GRATEFUL  ADDRESS  OF   THE  UNHAPPY   HOUYHNHNMS,  NOW 
IN  SLAVERY  AND   BONDAGE   IN  ENGLAND. 

TO  thee,  we  wretches  of  the  Hoiiyhnhnm  band, 
Condemn'd  to  labour  in  a  barbarous  land, 
Return  our  thanks.     Accept  our  humble  lays, 
And  let  each  grateful  Houyhnhnm  neigh  thy  praise. 

O  happy  Yahoo^  purg'd  from  human  crimes,  5 

By  thy  sweet  sojourn  in  those  virtuous  climes, 
Where  reign  our  sires ;  there,  to  thy  country's  shame, 
Reason,  you  found,  and  virtue  were  the  same. 
Their  precepts  raz'd  the  prejudice  of  youth. 
And  even  a  Yahoo  learn'd  the  love  of  truth.  lO 

Art  thou  the  first  who  did  the  coast  explore ; 
Did  never  Yahoo  tread  that  ground  before? 
Yes,  thousands!     But  in  pity  to  their  kind, 
Or  sway'd  by  envy,  or  through  pride  of  mind. 
They  hid  their  knowledge  of  a  nobler  race,  IS 

Which  own'd,  would  all  their  sires  and  sons  disgrace. 

You,  like  the  Sainian^  visit  lands  unknown, 
And  by  thei^ wiser  morals  mend  your  own. 
Thus  Orpheus  travell'd  to  reform  his  kind. 
Came  back,  and  tamed  the  brutes  he  left  behind.  20 


MISCELLANEOUS.  513 

You  went,  you  saw,  you  heard :  with  virtue  fought, 
Then  spread  those  morals  which  the  Houyhnhmns  taught. 
Our  labours  here  must  touch  thy  generous  heart, 
To  see  us  strain  before  the  coach  and  cart ; 
CompelPd  to  run  each  knavish  jockey's  heat!  25 

Subservient  to  Newmarkefs  annual  cheat! 

With  what  reluctance  do  we  lawyers  bear, 
To  fleece  their  country  clients  twice  a  year? 
Or  managed  in  your  schools,  for  fops  to  ride, 
How  foam,  how  fret  beneath  a  load  of  pride !  30 

Yes,  we  are  slaves  —  but  yet,  by  reason's  force, 
Have  learn'd  to  bear  misfortune,  like  a  Horse. 

O  would  the  stars,  to  ease  my  bonds,  ordain, 
That  gentle  Gulliver  might  guide  my  rein! 
Safe  would  I  bear  him  to  his  journey's  end,  35 

For  't  is  a  pleasure  to  support  a  friend. 
But  if  my  life  be  doom'd  to  serve  the  bad, 
O!  may'st  thou  never  want  an  easy  pad! 

HOUYHNHNM. 

IV. 

MARY  GULLIVER  TO  CAPTAIN  LEMUEL  GULLIVER. 

AN  EPISTLE. 

ARGUMENT. 

The  Captain,  some  time  after  his  return,  being  retired  to  Mr.  Sympson's  in  the 
country,  Mrs.  Gulliver,  apprehending  from  his  late  behaviour  some  estrangement  of 
his  affections,  writes  him  the  following  expostulating,  soothing,  and  tenderly  complain- 
ing epistle. 

WELCOME,  thrice  welcome,  to  thy  native  place! 
—  What,  touch  me  not?  what,  shun  a  wife's  embrace? 
Have  I  for  this  thy  tedious  absence  borne, 
And  wak'd,  and  wish'd  whole  nights  for  thy  return? 
In  five  long  years  I  took  no  second  spouse;  5 

What  Redriff  Wiit  so  long  hath  kept  her  vows? 
Your  eyes,  your  nose,  inconstancy  betray ; 
Your  nose  you  stop ;  your  eyes  you  turn  away. 
'T  is  said,  that  thou  should'st  cleave  unto  thy  Wife  ; 
Once  t/iou  didst  cleave,  and  I  could  cleave  for  life.  10 

Hear,  and  relent!  hark  how  thy  children  moan; 
Be  kind  at  least  to  these  :  they  are  thy  own ; 
'Be  bold,  and  count  them  all ;  secure  to  find 
The  honest  number  that  you  left  behind. 

See  how  they  pat  thee  with  their  pretty  paws :  15 

Why  start  you?  are  they  snakes?  or  have  they  claws? 

2L 


514  MISCELLANEOUS, 

Thy  Christian  seed,  our  mutual  flesh  and  bone : 
Be  kind  at  least  to  these,  they  are  thy  own. 

Biddel^  like  thee,  might  farthest  India  rove ; 
He  changed  his  country,  but  retained  his  love.  20 

There  's  Captain  Pennell,  absent  half  his  life, 
Comes  back,  and  is  the  kinder  to  his  wife. 
Yet  PenneWs  wife  is  brown,  compared  to  me ; 
And  Mrs.  Biddel  sure  is  fifty-three. 

Not  touch  me!  never  neighbour  calPd  me  slut:  25 

Was  Flimiiap's  dame  more  sweet  in  Lilliput  f 
I  Ve  no  red  hair  to  breathe  an  odious  fume  ; 
At  least  thy  consort 's  cleaner  than  thy  Groom, 
Why  then  that  dirty  stable-boy  thy  care? 

What  mean  those  visits  to  the  Sorrel  Mare  f  30 

Say,  by  what  witchcraft,  or  what  demon  led,  — 
Preferr'st  thou  Litter^Xo  the  marriage  bed! 

Some  say  the  devil  himself  is  in  that  Mare : 
If  so,  our  IDean  shall  drive  him  forth  by  prayer. 
Some  think  you  mad,  some  think  you  are  possess'd ;  35 

That  Bedlam  and  clean  straw  will  suit  you  best. 
Vain  means,  alas!  this  frenzy  to  appease. 
That  straw,  that  straw,  would  heighten  the  disease. 

My  bed  (the  scene  of  all  our  former  joys, 
Witness  two  lovely  girls,  two  lovely  boys,)  40 

Alone  I  press ;  in  dreams  I  call  my  dear, 
I  stretch  my  hand,  no  Gulliver  is  there! 
I  wake,  I  rise,  and,  shivering  with  the  frost. 
Search  all  the  house,  —  my  Gulliver  is  lost! 
Forth  in  the  street  I  rush  with  frantic  cries ;  45 

The  windows  open,  all  the  neighbours  rise ; 
"Where  sleeps  my  Gulliver?     O  tell  me  where!" 
The  neighbours  answer,  "  With  the  Sorrel  Mare,'''* 

At  early  morn,  I  to  the  market  haste, 
(Studious  in  everything  to  please  thy  taste ;)  50 

A  curious  Fowl  and  Sparagrass  I  chose 
(For  I  remember  you  were  fond  of  those)  ; 
Three  shillings  cost  the  first,  the  last  seven  groats ; 
Sullen  you  turn  from  both,  and  call  for  Oats. 

Others  bring  goods  and  treasure  to  their  houses,  55 

Something  to  deck  their  pretty  babes  and  spouses ; 
My  only  token  was  a  cup  like  horn, 
That 's  made  of  nothing  but  a  lady's  corn. 
'T  is  not  for  that  I  grieve  ;  no,  \  is  to  see 
The  Groom  and  Sorrel  Mare  preferred  to  me!  60 

These,  for  some  moments  when  you  deign  to  quit, 
And  (at  due  distance)  sweet  discourse  admit, 
'T  is  all  my  pleasure  thy  past  toil  to  know. 
For  pleased  remembrance  builds  delight  on  woe. 
At  every  danger  pants  thy  consort's  breast,  65 

And  gaping  infants  squall  to  hear  the  rest. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  515 

How  did  I  tremble,  when,  by  thousands  bound, 

I  saw  thee  stretch'd  on  Lilliputian  ground  ? 

When  scaling  armies  climb'd  up  every  part, 

Each  step  they  trod,  I  felt  upon  my  heart.  70 

But  when  thy  torrent  quenched  the  dreadful  blaze, 

King,  queen,  and  nation,  staring  with  amaze, 

Full  in  my  view  how  all  my  husband  came. 

And  what  extinguish'd  theirs,  increas'd  my  flame. 

Those  Spectacles^  ordain'd  thine  eyes  to  save,  75 

Were  once  my  present ;  Love  that  armour  gave. 

How  did  I  mourn  at  Bolgolatti's  decree! 

For  when  he  sign'd  thy  death,  he  sentencM  me. 

When  folks  might  see  thee  all  the  country  round 
For  sixpence,  I  M  have  giv'n  a  thousand  pound.  80 

Lord !  when  the  Giant-babe  that  head  of  thine 
Got  in  his  mouth,  my  heart  was  up  in  mine! 
When  in  the  Marrow-bone  I  see  thee  ramm'd ; 
Or  on  the  house-top  by  the  Monkey  cramm'd, 
The  piteous  images  renew  my  pain,  85 

And  all  thy  dangers  I  weep  o'er  again. 
But  on  the  Maiden'' s  Nipple  when  you  rid, 
Pray  Heav'n,  't  was  all  a  wanton  maiden  did! 
Glumdalclitch  too  —  with  thee  I  mourn  her  case : 
Heav'n  guard  the  gentle  girl  from  all  disgrace!  90 

0  may  the  king  that  one  neglect  forgive, 
And  pardon  her  the  fault  by  which  I  live! 
Was  there  no  other  way  to  set  him  free  ? 
My  life,  alas!  I  fear  proved  death  to  thee. 

O  teach  me,  dear,  new  words  to  speak  my  flame!  95 

Teach  me  to  woo  thee  by  thy  best-loved  name! 
Whether  the  style  of  Grildrig  please  the  most, 
So  calPd  on  Brobdingnag's  stupendous  coast. 
When  on  the  Monarch's  ample  hand  you  sate, 
And  halloo'd  in  his  ear  intrigues  of  state  ;  lOO 

Or  Quinbiis  Flestri?t  more  endearment  brings ; 
When  like  a  Mountain  you  looked  down  on  kings : 
If  ducal  Nardac,  Lilliputian  peer, 
Or  Glumglunt's  humbler  title  soothe  thy  ear : 
Nay,  would  kind  Jove  my  organs  so  dispose,  105 

To  hymn  harmonious  Houyhnhnm  through  the  nose, 

1  'd  call  thee  Houyhnhn7n^  that  high-sounding  name ; 
Thy  children's  noses  all  should  twang  the  same. 

So  might  I  find  my  loving  spouse  of  course 

Endu'd  with  all  the  Virtues  of  a  Horse,  1 10 


5l6  MISCELLANEOUS. 


LINES  ON   SWIFT'S   ANCESTORS. 

[Swift  set  up  a  plain  monument  to  his  grandfather,  and  also  presented  a  cup  to  the 
church  of  Goodrich,  or  Gotheridge  (in  Herefordshire).  He  sent  a  pencilled  elevation 
of  the  monument  (a  simple  tablet)  to  Mrs.  Howard,  who  returned  it  with  the  following 
lines,  inscribed  on  the  drawing  by  Pope.  The  paper  is  endorsed,  in  Swift's  hand: 
'Model  of  a  monument  for  my  grandfather,  with  Pope's  roguery.' 

Scott's  Life  o/Swi/t.l 

T  ON ATHAN   SWIFT  In  this  church  he  has  put 

J    Had  the  gift,  A  stone  of  two  foot, 

By  fatherige,  motherige,  With  a  cup  and  a  can,  sir, 

And  by  brotherige.  In  respect  to  his  grandsire ; 

To  come  from  Gotherige,^  So,  Ireland,  change  thy  tone. 

But  now  is  spoil'd  clean,  And  cry,  O  hone!  O  hone! 

And  an  Irish  dean :  For  England  hath  its  own. 

FROM  THE  GRUB-STREET  JOURNAL. 

[This  Journal  was  established  in  January,  1730,  and  carried  on  for  eight  years  by 
Pope  and  his  friends,  in  answer  to  the  attacks  provoked  by  the  Dunciad.  It  corre- 
sponds in  some  measure  to  the  Xenien  of  Goethe  and  Schiller.  Only  such  pieces  are 
here  inserted  as  bear  Pope's  distinguishing  signature  A. ;  several  others  are  probably 
his.] 

L 

EPIGRAM 

Occasioned  by  seeing  some  sheets  of  Dr.  Bentley's  edition  of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost^ 

kID  Milton's  prose,  O  Charles,  thy  death  defend? 


D' 


A  furious  foe  unconscious  proves  a  friend. 
On  Milton's  verse  does  Bentley  comment?  —  Know 
A  weak  officious  friend  becomes  a  foe. 
While  he  but  sought  his  Author's  fame  to  further,  5 

The  murderous  critic  has  aveng'd  thy  murder. 

II. 

EPIGRAM. 

Should  D s  ^  print,  how  once  you  robb'd  your  brother, 

Traduc'd  your  monarch,  and  debauch'd  your  mother ; 

Say,  what  revenge  on  D s  can  be  had ; 

Too  dull  for  laughter,  for  reply  too  mad  ? 

Of  one  so  poor  you  cannot  take  the  law ;  5 

On  one  so  old  your  sword  you  scorn  to  draw. 

Uncag'd  then  let  the  harmless  monster  rage, 

Secure  in  dulness,  madness,  want,  and  age. 

1  Goodrich,  or  Gotheridge,  in  Herefordshire,  prose'  is  the  Defensio  Pro  PoPulo  AngUcano 
where  Swift  had  erected  a  monument  to  his  &c.  of  1649;  and  the  Defensio  Secunda  of 
grandfather,  presenting  a  cup  to  the  church  at    1654.] 

the  same  time.     Scott.  ^  [Dennis.] 

2  [Cf.   Dunciad ^  Bk.  iv.  v.  212.     '  Milton's 


MISCELLANEOUS,  517 

III. 

MR.  J.   M.  S E.1 

Catechised  on  his  One  Epistle  to  Mr.  Pope. 

What  makes  you  write  at  this  odd  rate? 

Why,  Sir,  it  is  to  imitate. 

What  makes  you  steal  and  trifle  so? 

Why,  't  is  to  do  as  others  do. 

But  there  's  no  meaning  to  be  seen.  5 

Why,  that 's  the  very  thing  I  mean. 

IV. 
EPIGRAM. 

On  Mr.  M — — re*s  going  to  law  with  Mr.  Gilliver :  inscribed  to 

Attorney  Tibbald. 

Once  in  his  life  M re  judges  right : 

His  sword  and  pen  not  worth  a  straw, 
An  author  that  could  never  write, 
A  gentleman  that  dares  not  fight, 

Has  but  one  way  to  tease  —  by  law. 
This  suit,  dear  Tibbald,  kindly  hatch  ; 

Thus  thou  may'st  help  the  sneaking  elf; 
And  sure  a  printer  is  his  match, 

Who  's  but  a  publisher  himself. 

V. 

EPIGRAM. 

A  GOLD  watch  found  on  cinder  whore. 

Or  a  good  verse  on  J y  M e, 

Proves  but  what  either  should  conceal. 
Not  that  they  're  rich,  but  that  they  steal. 

VI. 

EPITAPH. 

[On  James  Moore-Smythe.] 

Here  lies  what  had  nor  birth,  nor  shape,  nor  fame ; 

No  gentleman!  no  man!  no-thing!  no  name! 

For  Jamie  ne'er  grew  James  ;  and  what  they  call 

More,  shrunk  to  Smith  —  and  Smith  's  no  name  at  all. 

Yet  die  thou  can'st  not,  phantom,  oddly  fated :  5 

For  how  can  no-thing  be  annihilated?''^ 

Ex  nihilo  nihil  /it. 
^  [James  Moore-Smythe.]  *  [Cf.  Dunciad,  Bk.  ii.  v.  50.] 


5i8  MISCELLANEOUS. 

VIL 
A  QUESTION   BY  ANONYMOUS. 

Tell,  if  you  can,  which  did  the  worse, 

Caligula  or  Gr n's  ^  Gr — ce  ? 

That  made  a  Consul  of  a  horse, 

And  this  a  Laureate  of  an  ass. 

VIII. 

EPIGRAM. 

Great  G ^  such  servants  since  thou  well  can'st  lack, 

Oh!  save  the  salary,  and  drink  the  sack. 

IX. 

EPIGRAM. 

Behold!  ambitious  of  the  British  bays, 
Cibber  and  Duck  ^  contend  in  rival  lays. 
But,  gentle  Colley,  should  thy  verse  prevail, 
Thou  hast  no  fence,  alas !  against  his  flail : 
Therefore  thy  claim  resign,  allow  his  right : 
For  Duck  can  thresh,  you  know,  as  well  as  write. 


ON  SEEING  THE  LADIES  AT  CRUX-EASTON  WALK  IN  THE 
WOODS   BY   THE   GROTTO. 

EXTEMPORE  BY  MR.    POPE. 

AUTHORS  the  world  and  their  dull  brains  have  traced 
To  fix  the  ground  where  Paradise  was  placed ; 
Mind  not  their  learned  whims  and  idle  talk ; 
Here,  here  's  the  place  where  these  bright  angels  walk. 

INSCRIPTION  ON  A  GROTTO,  THE  WORK  OF  NINE  LADIES. 

[Carruthers,  from  Dodsley^s  Miscellany^ 

HERE,  shunning  idleness  at  once  and  praise, 
This  radiant  pile  nine  rural  sisters  raise ; 
The  glittering  emblem  of  each  spotless  dame, 
Clear  as  her  soul  and  shining  as  her  frame ; 

1  [The  Duke  of  Grafton.]  cerning  whom   there  are  other  verses  In  the 

'  [King  George  II.     The  epigram  Is  of  course  Journal,  probably  written  by  Pope.     Cf.  Imi- 

on  the  Laureate  Gibber.]  tations  of  HoracCy  Bk.  il.  Ep.  II.  v.  140.] 
3  [Stephen  Duck,  originally  a  thresher,  con- 


MISCELLANEOUS,  519 

Beauty  which  nature  only  can  impart,  5 

And  such  a  polish  as  disgraces  art ; 

But  Fate  disposed  them  in  this  humble  sort, 

And  hid  in  deserts  what  would  charm  a  Court. 


VERSES   LEFT   BY   MR.   POPE, 

ON  HIS  LYING  IN  THE  SAME  BED  WHICH  WILMOT,  THE  CELEBRATED  EARL  OF 
ROCHESTER,  SLEPT  IN  AT  ADDERBURY,  THEN  BELONGING  TO  THE  DUKE  OF 
ARGYLE.l  JULY  9TH,   I739. 

WITH  no  poetic  ardour  fir'd 
I  press  the  bed  where  Wilmot  lay ; 
That  here  he  lov'd,  or  here  expired, 
Begets  no  numbers  grave  or  gay. 

Beneath  thy  roof,  Argyle,  are  bred  5 

Such  thoughts  as  prompt  the  brave  to  lie 

Stretch'd  out  in  honour's  nobler  bed, 
Beneath  a  nobler  roof —  the  sky. 

Such  flames  as  high  in  patriots  burn. 

Yet  stoop  to  bless  a  child  or  wife ;  lO 

And  such  as  wicked  kings  may  mourn, 

When  freedom  is  more  dear  than  life. 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HON.   THE   EARL  OF  OXFORD, 

UPON  A  PIECE  OF  NEWS  IN  MIST  [MIST'S  JOURNAL],  THAT  THE  REV.  MR.  W. 
REFUS'D  TO  WRITE  AGAINST  MR.  POPE  BECAUSE  HIS  BEST  PATRON  HAD  A 
FRIENDSHIP  FOR  THE  SAID  P. 

[From  Nichols's  Literary  Anecdotes,  where  it  is  given  in  facsimile ;  accompanied 
by  the  statement  that  '  W.'  alluded  to  was  Samuel  Wesley,  and  '  Father  Francis/  the 
then  exiled  Bishop  of  Rochester  (Atterbury).] 

WESLEY,  if  Wesley  't  is  they  mean, 
They  say  on  Pope  would  fall. 
Would  his  best  Patron  let  his  Pen 
Discharge  his  inward  Gall. 

What  Patron  this,  a  doubt  must  be,  5 

Which  none  but  you  can  clear. 
Or  father  Francis,  cross  the  sea, 

Or  else  Earl  Edward  here. 

That  both  were  good  must  be  confessed, 

And  much  to  both  he  owes  ;  10 

But  which  to  Him  will  be  the  best 
The  Lord  of  Oxford  knows. 

*  [As  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  cf.  Epilogue  to  Satires,  Dial.  n.  v.  82.I 


f20  MISCELLANEOUS. 


TRANSLATION  OF  A   PRAYER  OF   BRUTUS. 

The  Rev.  Aaron  Thompson,  of  Queen's  College,  Oxon.,  translated  the  Chronicle  of 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth.  He  submitted  the  translation  to  Pope,  1717,  who  gave  him  the 
following  lines,  being  a  translation  of  a  prayer  of  Brutus.     Carruthers. 

GODDESS  of  woods,  tremendous  in  the  chase, 
To  mountain  wolves  and  all  the  savage  race, 
Wide  o'er  the  aerial  vault  extend  thy  sway, 
And  o'er  the  infernal  regions  void  of  day. 
On  thy  third  reign  look  down  ;  disclose  our  fate,  5 

In  what  new  station  shall  we  fix  our  seat? 
When  shall  we  next  thy  hallow'd  altars  raise. 
And  choirs  of  virgins  celebrate  thy  praise  ? 

LINES   WRITTEN   IN   EVELYN'S   BOOK   ON   COINS.* 

["  Wrote  by  Mr.  P.  in  a  Volume  of  Evelyn  on  Coins  presented  to  a  painter  by  a 
parson."  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1735.  "Wrote  in  Evelyn's  Book  of  Coins  given 
by  Mr.  Wood  to  Kent."    Notes  and  Queries,  March  13,  1851,  from  a  copy  by  Mason.] 

TOM  WOOD  of  Chiswick,  deep  divine, 
To  painter  Kent  gave  all  this  coin. 
'T  is  the  first  coin,  I  'm  bold  to  say. 
That  ever  churchman  gave  to  lay. 

TO  MR.   THOMAS   SOUTHERN, 

On  his  Birth-day,  1742.2 

RESIGNED  to  live,  prepared  to  die> 
With  not  one  sin,  but  poetry. 
This  day  Tom's  fair  account  has  run 
(Without  a  blot)  to  eighty-one. 

Kind  Boyle,  before  his  poet,  lays  5 

A  table,^  with  a  cloth  of  bays  ; 
And  Ireland,  mother  of  sweet  singers, 
Presents  her  harp  ^  still  to  his  fingers. 

*  [Numismaia  :   a  Discourse  on  Medals;         ^  A  table']     He  was  invited  to  dine  on  his 

published  at  London  in  1697.]  birth-day  with  this  Nobleman  (Lord   Orrery), 

2  [Southern,  the  author  of  Oroonoko,  accord-  who  had  prepared  for  him  the  entertainment  of 

ing  to  Warton's  expression,  'lived  the  longest  which  the  bill  of  fare  is  here  set  down.      War- 

and  died  one  of  the  richest  of  all  our  poets.'     He  burtmi.     [John  Earl  of  Cork  and  Orrery  was  a 

was  born  in  1660,  and  died  in  1746.     The  date  of  friend  of  Swift,  Pope,  and  Bolingbroke,  and  in 

the  first  production  of  Oroonoko  is  1696,  and  it  earlier  days  a  member  of  the  Brothers'   Club, 

kept  the  stage  till  the  third  decade  of  the  present  He  died  in  1762.] 

century,  a  rare  example  of  popularity  attaching         *  Presents  her  harp]    The  Harp  is  generally 

to  a  drama  founded  on  a  sensation  novel;    for  wove  on  the  Irish  Linen;  such  as  Table-cloths, 

Mrs.  Aphra  Behn's  Oroonoko  was  the  Uncle  &c.     Warburton, 
Tom's  Cabin  of  her  day.] 


MISCELLANEOUS.  521 

The  feast,  his  tow'ring  genius  marks 

In  yonder  wild  goose  and  the  larks!  lo 

The  mushrooms  shew  his  wit  was  sudden! 

And  for  his  judgment,  lo  a  pudden! 

Roast  beef,  tho'  old,  proclaims  him  stout, 

And  grace,  altho'  a  bard,  devout. 

May  Tom,  whom  heav'n  sent  down  to  raise  15 

The  price  of  prologues  and  of  plays,^ 

Be  evYy  birth-day  more  a  winner, 

Digest  his  thirty  thousandth  dinner ; 

Walk  to  his  grave  without  reproach, 

And  scorn  a  rascal  and  a  coach.  20 


BISHOP   HOUGH.2 

A  BISHOP,  by  his  neighbours  hated, 
Has  cause  to  wish  himself  translated ; 
But  why  should  Hough  desire  translation. 
Loved  and  esteemed  by  all  the  nation? 
Yet  if  it  be  the  old  man's  case, 
I  '11  lay  my  life  I  know  the  place : 
'T  is  where  God  sent  some  that  adore  him. 
And  whither  Enoch  went  before  him. 


PRAYER  OF  ST.   FRANCIS   XAVIER. 

[Translated  from  an  Oratio  a  Sancto  Xavierio  composita,  at  the  desire  of  a  Catholic 
priest  named  Brown.  Gentleman'' s  Magazine,  October,  1791,  where  the  original  is  given 
commencing  '  O  Deus  ego  amo  te.'] 

THOU   art  my  God,  sole  object  of  my  love ; 
Not  for  the  hope  of  endless  joys  above ; 
Not  for  the  fear  of  endless  pains  below. 
Which  they  who  love  thee  not  must  undergo. 

For  me,  and  such  as  me,  thou  deign'st  to  bear  5 

An  ignominious  cross,  the  nails,  the  spear : 
A  thorny  crown  transpierced  thy  sacred  brow, 
While  bloody  sweats  from  ev'ry  member  flow. 

"^  The  price  of  prologues  and  of  plays  ^   This  had  my  goods  too  cheap."    Warburton.     [This 

alludes  to  a  story  Mr.  Southern  told  about  the  was  the  regular  tariff  for  prologues  and  epilogues, 

same,  to  Mr.  P.  and  Mr.  W.  of  Dryden;  who,  Later,  Southern  could  tell  Dryden  (according  to 

when  Southern  first  wrote  for  the  stage,  was  so  Warton)  that  he  had  cleared  ;^70o  by  a  single 

famous  for  his  Prologues,  that  the  players  would  play,  while   Dryden   never  made  more  than  a 

act  nothing  without  that  decoration.     His  usual  seventh  of  that  sum  by  one  drama.] 
price  till  then  had  been  four  guineas:  but  when  2  [Bishop  of  Worcester.     Deprived  by  James 

Southern  came  to  him  for  the  Prologue  he  had  II.  of  the  Presidentship  of  Magdalene  College, 

bespoke,  Dryden  told  him  he  must  have  six  guin-  Oxford ;  he  afterwards  successively  held  several 

eas  for  it;  **  which  (said  he)  young  man,  is  out  sees,  and  died  in  I743.] 
of  no  disrespect  to  you,  but  the  Players  have 


522  MISCELLANEOUS. 

For  me  in  tortures  thou  resignd'st  thy  breath, 

Embraced  me  on  the  cross,  and  sav'd  me  by  thy  death.  lo 

And  can  these  suflferings  fail  my  heart  to  move? 

What  but  thyself  can  now  deserve  my  love  ? 

Such  as  then  was,  and  is,  thy  love  to  me. 

Such  is,  and  shall  be  still,  my  love  to  thee  — 

To  thee,  Redeemer!  mercy's  sacred  spring!  1 5 

My  God,  my  Father,  Maker,  and  my  King! 


APPENDIX. 
I. 

1740. 

A  POEM. 

[This  unfinished  piece  was  communicated  to  Warton  by  Dr.  Wilson,  formerly 
Fellow  and  Librarian  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  to  whom  it  had  been  lent  bv  a 
grandson  of  Lord  Chetwynd,  'an  intimate  friend  of  the  famous  Lord  Bolingbroke, 
who  gratified  his  curiosity  by  a  box  full  of  the  rubbish  and  sweepings  of  Pope's  study, 
whose  executor  he  was,  in  conjunction  with  Lord  Marchmont.'  It  is  possible  that 
Bowles's  conjecture  may  be  correct,  according  to  which  '  1740 '  was  to  grow  into  the 
third  Dialogue  which  Pope  at  one  time  intended  to  add  to  the  Epilogue  to  the  Satires. 
See  the  Verses  on  receiving  from  Lady  Frances  Shirley  a  Standish,  &c.  ante,  p.  467], 
Roscoe  doubts  whether  so  mediocre  a  production  be  Pope's :  Carruthers  also  hesitates 
on  the  subject ;  and  the  piece  is  at  most  to  be  taken  as  a  few  rough  jottings  accidentally 
discovered.] 

O  WRETCHED  B !i  jealous  now  of  all, 
What  God,  what  mortal,  shall  prevent  thy  fall? 
Turn,  turn  thy  eyes  from  wicked  men  in  place, 
And  see  what  succour  from  the  Patriot  Race. 

C ,2  his  own  proud  dupe,  thinks  Monarchs  things  5 

Made  just  for  him,  as  other  fools  for  Kings  ; 
Controls,  decides,  insults  thee  every  hour, 
And  antedates  the  hatred  due  to  PowY. 

Through  Clouds  of  Passion  P 's  ^  views  are  clear^ 

He  foams  a  Patriot  to  subside  a  peer ;  10 

Impatient  sees  his  country  bought  and  sold, 
And  damns  the  market  where  he  takes  no  gold. 

Grave,  righteous  S "*  jogs  on  till,  past  belief, 

He  finds  himself  companion  with  a  thief. 

To  purge  and  let  thee  blood,  with  fire  and  sword,  15 

Is  all  the  help  stern  S ^  would  aflford. 

That  those  who  bind  and  rob  thee,  would  not  kill, 
Good  C ^  hopes,  and  candidly  sits  still. 

Of  Ch — s  W "^  who  speaks  at  all, 

No  more  than  of  Sir  Har — y  ^  or  Sir  P ?^  20 

Whose  names  once  up,  they  thought  it  was  not  wrong 
To  lie  in  bed,  but  sure  they  lay  too  long. 

1  Britain.     Bowles.  ^  Shippen.     Bowles,  Carruthers.     Impossi*- 

2  Cobham.   Bowles.  This  is  impossible.  Ros-    ble.    Roscoe. 

coe.  Campbell  (Argyle),  or  Cholmondely.   Car-  ^  Carlisle?  Bowles.  Cornbury.  Carruthers. 

ruthers.  '  Sir  Charles  Hanbury  Williams.    Bowles. 

3  Pultency.     Carruthers.  *  Sir  Henry  Oxenden.    Bowles. 
*  Sandys.    Bowles.    [Afterwards  Lord  San-  *  Sir  Paul  Methuen.    Bowles. 

dys.] 


524 


APPENDIX. 

G r,^  C m,2  B 1,^  pay  thee  due  regards, 

Unless  the  ladies  bid  them  mind  their  cards. 

with  wit  that  must 

And  C d,^  who  speaks  so  well  and  writes,  25 

Whom  (saving  W.^)  every  S.^  harper  bites. 

must  needs 

Whose  wit  and  equally  provoke  one, 

Finds  thee,  at  best,  the  butt  to  crack  his  joke  on. 

As  for  the  rest,  each  winter  up  they  run, 
And  all  are  clear,  that  something  must  be  done,  30 

Then,  urged  by  C 1,"^  or  by  C 1  stopp'd, 

Inflamed  by  P ,^  and  by  P dropped ; 

They  follow  rev'rently  eacR  wondrous  wight, 

Amaz'd  that  one  can  read,  that  one  can  write : 

So  geese  to  gander  prone  obedience  keep,  35 

Hiss,  if  he  hiss,  and  if  he  slumber,  sleep. 

Till  having  done  whatever  was  fit  or  fine, 

UtterM  a  speecli,  and  ask'd  their  friends  to  dine; 

Each  hurries  back  to  his  paternal  ground, 

Content  but  for  five  shillings  in  the  pound ;  40 

Yearly  defeated,  yearly  hopes  they  give. 

And  all  agree,  Sir  Robert  cannot  live. 

Rise,  rise,  great  W ?  fated  to  appear, 

Spite  of  thyself,  a  glorious  minister! 

Speak  the  loud  language  Princes  ....  45 

And  treat  with  half  the 

At  length  to  B ^^  kind,  as  to  thy  .  •  •  • 

Espouse  the  nation,  you 

What  can  thy  H 11 

Dress  in  Dutch 50" 

Tho'  still  he  travels  on  no  bad  pretence, 
To  show 

Or  those  foul  copies  of  thy  face  and  tongue, 

Veracious  W ,""2  and  frontless  Young  ;  ^^ 

Sagacious  Bubb,^^  so  late  a  friend,  and  there  55 

So  late  a  foe,  yet  more  sagacious  H P^^ 

"I,  I  Hervey  and  Hervey's  school,  F — ,  H y,  H n,^* 

Yea,  moral  Ebor,  or  religious  Winton.^"^ 

How!  what  can  O w,  what  can  D ^^ 

12  3  Lords  Gower,   Cobham    and    Bathurst.        i'^  Britain.     Carruthers, 
Bowles.  ii  Horace  Walpole,  brother  of.  Sir  Robert, 

*  Lord  Chesterfield.     Bowles.  who  had  just  quitted  his  embassy  at  the  Hague, 

5  Peter  Walter?     Carruthers  ?  Bowles. 

6  ['  The  Earl  of  Chesterfield  was  .  .  .  fond  of        ^^  ^^  W.  Winnington.   Bowles.    [A  member  of 
play,  and  was   partial  to  the  company  of  Mr.  the  ministry.]     Sir  William  Yonge.     Bowles. 
Lookup,   one  of   the   most   noted    professional        **  Doddington  [afterwards  Lord  Melcombe]. 
gamesters  of  the  day.'  Chatto's  History  of  Play-        ^^  Probably  Hare,  Bp.  of  Chichester.    Bowles. 
ing-Cards,  p.  173.]  ^^  Fox,  Henley,  Hinton.     Bowles. 

^  Lord  Carteret.    Bowles.    [Afterwards  Lord  ^'^  Blackburn,  Archbishop  of  York,  and  Hoad 

Granville.]  ley,  Bishop  of  Winchester.     Bowles. 

®  Pulteney.     Bowles.  1*  Speaker  Onslow  and  lord  Delaware,  chair- 

*  Sir  Robert  Walpole.     Bowles.  men  of  committees  of  House  of  Lords.     Bowles, 


APPENDIX,  525 

The  wisdom  of  the  one  and  other  chair,  60 

N ^  laugh,  or  D s^  sager, 

Or  the  dread  truncheon,  M.'s  mighty  peer?^ 

What  help  from  J ""s  *  opiates  canst  thou  draw, 

Or  H k's  quibbles  voted  into  law?^ 

C.  that  Roman  in  his  nose  alone,^  65 

Who  hears  all  causes,  B ^  but  thy  own, 

Or  those  proud  fools  whom  nature,  rank,  and  fete 
Made  fit  companions  for  the  Sword  of  State. 

Can  the  light  packhorse,  or  the  heavy  steer, 
The  sousing  Prelate,^  or  the  sweating  Peer,  JIO 

Drag  out,  with  all  its  dirt  and  all  its  weight, 
The  lumbVing  carriage  of  thy  broken  State? 
Alas!  the  people  curse,  the  carman  swears, 
The  drivers  quarrel,  and  the  master  stares. 

The  plague  is  on  thee,  Britain,  and  who  tries  75 

To  save  thee,  in  th'  infectious  office,  dies. 

The  first  firm  P y,^  soon  resigned  his  breath. 

Brave  S w  ^^  lov'd  thee,  and  was  lied  to  death. 

Good  M — m — t's  fate  tore  P th  from  thy  side,^ 

And  thy  last  sigh  was  heard,  when  W m  died.^  80 

Thy  nobles  SI — s,  thy  Se — s  bought  with  gold, 
Thy  Clergy  perjurM,  thy  whole  people  sold. 

An  Atheist  \J  a  ©"''s  ad 

Blotch  thee  all  o'er,  and  sink 

Alas!  on  one  alone  our  all  relies,^^  85 

Let  him  be  honest,  and  he  must  be  wise ; 
Let  him  no  trifler  from  his  school. 

Nor  like  his still  a   .    .    .    , 

Be  but  a  man!  unminister'd,  alone. 

And  free  at  once  the  Senate  and  the  Throne;  90 

Esteem  the  public  love  his  best  supply, 

A  O's  true  glory  his  integrity ; 

Rich  with  his    ....   //^    ...    his  strong^ 

Affect  no  conquest,  but  endure  no  wrong. 

Whatever  his  religion  or  his  blood,  95 

His  public  virtue  makes  his  title  good. 

Europe's  just  balance  and  our  own  may  stand, 

And  one  man's  honesty  redeem  the  land. 

*  Duke  of  Newcastle.  Bowles.  n.  v.  323,  where  *  his  pond'rous  grace  *  may  cor- 
2  Duke  of  Dorset.  Bowles.  respond  to  *  the  sweating  peer*  in  this  passage.] 
8  The     (second)      Duke     of    Marlborough.         » Pulteney.     Carruthers; 

Bowles.  '0  Earl  of  Scarborough  (^w).     Bowles. 

*  Sir    Joseph    Jekyll.      Bowles.     Probably;        i*  Earl  of  Marchmont  and  his  son,  Lord  Pol- 
but  he  died  in  1738      Carruthers.  warth.     Bowles.    The  former  died  in  Jan.  1740. 

^  Lord  Chancellor  Hardwicke.     Bowles.  Carruthers. 

6  Probably  Sir  John  Cummins,  C.  J.  of  the        12  §{,-  William  Wyndham.     Bowles.    He  died 
Common  Pleas.     Bowles.     Or  Spencer  Comp-    in  June,  1740.     Carruthers. 

ton,  Lord  Wilmington,  President  of  the  Coun-  ^^  [Obviously  the  Pretender,  concerning  the 

cil.     Carruthers.  intrigues  with  whom  in  this  year  sec  Chap.  xxi. 

7  Britain.     Bowles.  of  Lord  Stanhope's  Htst,  qfEngl.'\ 

8  Sherlock.  Carruthers.  [Cf.  Dunciad,  Bk. 


APPENDIX. 

II. 

SYLVIA.    A  FRAGMENT.* 

SYLVIA,  my  heart  in  wondrous  wise  alarmed, 
Awed  without  sense,  and  without  beauty  charmed : 
But  some  odd  graces  and  some  flights  she  had, 
Was  just  not  ugly,  and  was  just  not  mad : 
Her  tongue  still  ran  on  credit  from  her  eyes,  5 

More  pert  than  witty,  more  a  wit  than  wise : 
Good  nature,  she  declared  it,  was  her  scorn : 
Though  'twas  by  that  alone  she  could  be  borne : 
Affronting  all,  yet  fond  of  a  good  name ; 

A  fool  to  pleasure,  yet  a  slave  to  fame :  10 

Now  coy,  now  studious  in  no  point  to  fall, 
Now  all  agog  for  D — y  at  a  ball :  ^ 
Now  deep  in  Taylor  and  the  Book  of  Martyrs, 
Now  drinking  citron  with  his  Grace  and  Chartres.* 

Men,  some  to  business,  some  to  pleasure  take,  15 

But  every  woman  is  at  heart  a  rake, 
Frail  feverish  sex  ;  their  fit  now  chills,  now  bums : 
Atheism  and  superstition  rule  by  turns  ; 
And  a  mere  heathen  in  her  carnal  part, 
Is  still  a  sad  good  Christian  in  her  heart.  20 

1  First  published  in  the  Miscellanies,  1727.    character   into    two,    and    developed  into   the 
It  will  be  seen  by  comparing  these  lines  with    portraits  of  Calypso  and  Narcissa. 
verses  45-68  of  the  Second  Moral  Essay  [see        2  { g^^  Durfey. 

p.  242],  that  the  poet  afterwards  divided  the        3  The  Duke  of  Wharton  and  Francis  Chartres, 

for  whom  see  Moral  Essay  iii.  20. 
526 


APPENDIX. 
III. 


THE   RAPE  OF  THE   LOCK. 

Nolueram,  Belinda,  tuos  violare  capillos 
Sed  juvat,  hoc  precibus  me  tribuisse  tuis.  —  MART* 

FIRST  EDITION. 


THE  RAPE  OF  THE  LOCK. 
CANTO  I. 

WHAT  dire  offence  from  am'rous  causes  springs, 
What  mighty  quarrels  rise  from  trivial  things, 
I  sing  —  This  verse  to  C — 1,  Muse !  is  due : 
This,  ev'n  Belinda  may  vouchsafe  to  view : 
Slight  is  the  subject,  but  not  so  the  praise,  5 

If  she  inspire,  and  he  approve  my  lays. 

Say  what  strange  motive,  goddess !  could  compel 
A  well-bred  lord  t'  assault  a  gentle  belle  ? 
O  say  what  stranger  cause,  yet  unexplored, 
Could  make  a  gentle  belle  reject  a  lord  ?  lo 

And  dwells  such  rage  in  softest  bosoms  then. 
And  lodge  such  daring  souls  in  little  men  ? 

Sol  through  white  curtains  did  his  beams  display, 
And  ope'd  those  eyes  which  brighter  shine  than  they, 
Shock  just  had  giv'n  himself  the  rousing  shake,  1 5 

And  nymphs  prepared  their  chocolate  to  take ; 
Thrice  the  wrought  slipper  knocked  against  the  ground, 
And  striking  watches  the  tenth  hour  resound. 
Belinda  rose,  and  midst  attending  dames, 
Launched  on  the  bosom  of  the  silver  Thames :  20 

A  train  of  well-dressed  youths  around  her  shone, 
And  ev'ry  eye  was  fixed  on  her  alone : 
On  her  white  breast  a  sparkling  cross  she  wore 
Which  Jews  might  kiss  and  infidels  adore. 
Her  lively  looks  a  sprightly  mind  disclose,  25 

Quick  as  her  eyes,  and  as  unfixed  as  those : 
Favours  to  none,  to  all  she  smiles  extends ; 
Oft  she  rejects,  but  never  once  offends. 
Bright  as  the  sun,  her  eyes  the  gazers  strike. 
And,  like  the  sun,  they  shine  on  all  alike.  30 

Yet  graceful  ease,  and  sweetness  void  of  pride. 
Might  hide  her  faults,  if  belles  had  faults  to  hide : 
If  to  her  share  some  female  errors  fall. 
Look  on  her  face,  and  you  '11  forgive  'em  all. 

This  nymph,  to  the  destruction  of  mankind,  35 

Nourished  two  locks,  which  graceful  hung  behind 
In  equal  curls,  and  well  conspired  to  deck 
With  shining  ringlets  her  smooth  iv'ry  neck. 
Love  in  these  labyrinths  his  slaves  detains, 
aM  529  • 


530  .     APPENDIX, 

And  mighty  hearts  are  held  in  slender  chains.  40 

With  hairy  springes  we  the  birds  betray, 
Slight  lines  of  hair  surprise  the  finny  prey, 
Fair  tresses  man's  imperial  race  insnare, 
And  beauty  draws  us  with  a  single  hair. 

Th'  adventurous  baron  the  bright  locks  admired ;  45 

He  saw,  he  wished,  and  to  the  prize  aspired. 
Resolved  to  win,  he  meditates  the  way, 
By  force  to  ravish,  or  by  fraud  betray ; 
For  when  success  a  lover's  toil  attends, 
Few  ask  if  fraud  or  force  attained  his  ends.  50 

For  this,  ere  Phoebus  rose,  he  had  implored 
Propitious  heav'n,  and  every  pow'r  adored, 
^ut  chiefly  Love  —  to  Love  an  altar  built, 
^^f  twelve  vast  French  romances,  neatly  gilt. 
I  There  lay  the  sword-knot  Sylvia's  hands  had  sewn  55 

With  Flavia's  busk  that  oft  had  wrapped  his  own : 
A  fan,  a  garter,  half  a  pair  of  gloves. 
And  all  the  trophies  of  his  former  loves. 
With  tender  billets-doux  he  lights  the  pire. 
And  breathes  three  am'rous  sighs  to  raise  the  fire.  60 

Then  prostrate  falls,  and  begs  with  ardent  eyes 
Soon  to  obtain,  and  long  possess  the  prize  : 
The  pow'rs  gave  ear,  and  granted  half  his  pray'r, 
The  rest  the  winds  dispersed  in  empty  air. 

Close  by  those  meads,  for  ever  crowned  with  flow'rs,  65 

Where  Thames  with  pride  surveys  his  rising  tow'rs, 
There  stands  a  structure  of  majestic  frame. 
Which  from  the  neighb'ring  Hampton  takes  its  name. 
Here  Britain's  statesmen  oft  the  fall  foredoom 
Of  foreign  tyrants,  and  of  nymphs  at  home  ;  70 

Here  thou,  great  Anna!  whom  three  realms  obey, 
Dost  sometimes  counsel  take  —  and  sometimes  tea. 

Hither  our  nymphs  and  heroes  did  resort. 
To  taste  awhile  the  pleasures  of  a  court ; 

In  various  talk  the  cheerful  hours  they  passed,  75 

Of  who  was  bit,  or  who  capotted  last ; 
This  speaks  the  glory  of  the  British  queen. 
And  that  describes  a  charming  Indian  screen ; 
A  third  interprets  motions,  looks,  and  eyes ; 
At  ev'ry  word  a  reputation  dies.  80 

SnufF,  or  the  fan,  supply  each  pause  of  chat, 
With  singing,  laughing,  ogling,  and  all  that. 

Now  when,  declining  from  the  noon  of  day, 
The  sun  obliquely  shoots  his  burning  ray ; 
When  hungry  judges  soon  the  sentence  sign,  85 

And  wretches  hang  that  jurymen  may  dine ; 
When  merchants  from  th'  Exchange  return  in  peace. 
And  the  long  labours  of  the  toilet  cease. 
The  board 's  with  cups  and  spoons,  alternate,  crowned, 


APPENDIX.  53i 

The  berries  crackle,  and  the  mill  turns  round;  90 

On  shining  altars  of  Japan  they  raise 

The  silver  lamp,  and  fiery  spirits  blaze  : 

From  silver  spouts  the  grateful  liquors  glide, 

While  China's  earth  receives  the  smoking  tide. 

At  once  they  gratify  their  smell  and  taste,  95 

While  frequent  cups  prolong  the  rich  repast. 

Coffee  (which  makes  the  politician  wise, 

And  see  through  all  things  with  his  half-shut  eyes) 

Sent  up  in  vapours  to  the  baron's  brain 

New  stratagems,  the  radiant  lock  to  gain.  100 

Ah  cease,  rash  youth !  desist  ere  't  is  too  late, 

Fear  the  just  gods,  and  think  of  Scylla's  fate! 

Changed  to  a  bird,  and  sent  to  flit  in  air, 

She  dearly  pays  for  Nisus'  injured  hair! 

But  when  to  mischief  mortals  bend  their  mindi  105 

How  soon  fit  instruments  of  ill  they  find ! 
Just  then,  Clarissa  drew  with  tempting  grace 
A  two-edged  weapon  from  her  shining  case : 
So  ladies,  in  romance,  assist  their  knight. 

Present  the  spear,  and  arm  him  for  the  fight;  1 10 

He  takes  the  gift  with  rev'rence,  and  extends 
The  little  engine  on  his  fingers'  ends ; 
This  just  behind  Belinda's  neck  he  spread, 
As  o'er  the  fragrant  steams  she  bends  her  head. 
He  first  expands  the  glitt'ring  forfex  wide  1 15 

T'  enclose  the  lock ;  then  joins  it,  to  divide ; 
One  fatal  stroke  the  sacred  hair  does  sever 
From  the  fair  head,  for  ever,  and  for  ever! 

The  living  fires  come  flashing  from  her  eyes. 
And  screams  of  horror  rend  th'  affrighted  skies.  120 

Not  louder  shrieks  by  dames  to  heav'n  are  cast, 
When  husbands  die,  or  lapdogs  breathe  their  last ; 
Or  when  rich  china  vessels,  fall'n  from  high, 
In  glitt'ring  dust  and  painted  fragments  lie! 

"  Let  wreaths  of  triumph  now  my  temples  twine^''  125 

The  victor  cried,  "the  glorious  prize  is  mine! 
While  fish  in  streams,  or  birds  delight  in  air, 
Or  in  a  coach  and  six  the  British  fair, 
As  long  as  Atalantis  shall  be  read. 

Or  the  small  pillow  grace  a  lady's  bed,  I30 

While  visits  shall  be  paid  on  solemn  days, 
When  num'rous  wax-lights  in  bright  order  blaze. 
While  nymphs  take  treats,  or  assignations  give. 
So  long  my  honour,  name,  and  praise  shall  live ! " 

What  time  would  spare,  from  steel  receives  its  date,  135 

And  monuments,  Uke  men,  submit  to  fate! 
Steel  did  the  labour  of  the  gods  destroy. 
And  strike  to  dust  th'  aspiring  tow'rs  of  Troy ; 
Steel  could  the  works  of  mortal  pride  confound, 


532  APPENDIX, 

And  hew  triumphal  arches  to  the  ground.  I40 

What  wonder  then,  fair  nymph !  thy  hairs  should  fed 
The  conqu'ring  force  of  unresisted  steel? 


CANTO   11. 

But  anxious  cares  the  pensive  nymph  oppressed, 

And  secret  passions  laboured  in  her  breast. 

Not  youthful  kings  in  battle  seized  alive, 

Not  scornful  virgins  who  their  charms  survive, 

Not  ardent  lover  robbed  of  all  his  bliss,  5 

Not  ancient  lady  when  refused  a  kiss, 

Not  tyrants  fierce  that  unrepenting  die, 

Not  Cynthia  when  her  manteau's  pinned  awry, 

E'er  felt  such  rage,  resentment,  and  despair, 

As  thou,  sad  virgin!  for  thy  ravished  hair.  10 

While  her  racked  soul  repose  and  peace  requires, 
The  fierce  Thalestris  fans  the  rising  fires. 
" O  wretched  maid! "  she  spread  her  hands,  and  cried, 
(And  Hampton's  echoes,  "Wretched  maid!"  replied) 
"  Was  it  for  this  you  took  such  constant  care  15 

Combs,  bodkins,  leads,  pomatums  to  prepare? 
For  this  your  locks  in  paper  durance  bound  ? 
For  this  with  tort'ring  irons  wreathed  around? 
Oh  had  the  youth  been  but  content  to  seize 
Hairs  less  in  sight,  or  any  hairs  but  these !  20 

Gods !  shall  the  ravisher  display  this  hair, 
While  the  fops  envy,  and  the  ladies  stare! 
Honour  forbid !  at  whose  unrivalled  shrine 
Ease,  pleasure,  virtue,  all,  our  sex  resign. 

Methinks  already  I  your  tears  survey,  25 

Already  hear  the  horrid  things  they  say. 
Already  see  you  a  degraded  toast. 
And  all  your  honour  in  a  whisper  lost ! 
How  shall  I,  then,  your  helpless  fame  defend? 
'T  will  then  be  infamy  to  seem  your  friend!  30 

And  shall  this  prize,  th'  inestimable  prize, 
Exposed  through  crystal  to  the  gazing  eyes. 
And  heightened  by  the  diamond's  circling  rays. 
On  that  rapacious  hand  for  ever  blaze  ? 

Sooner  shall  grass  in  Hyde  Park  Circus  grow,  35 

And  wits  take  lodgings  in  the  sound  of  Bow ; 
Sooner  let  earth,  air,  sea,  to  chaos  fall. 
Men,  monkeys,  lapdogs,  parrots,  perish  all ! " 

She  said ;  then  raging  to  Sir  Plume  repairs, 
And  bids  her  beau  demand  the  precious  hairs :  40 

Sir  Plume,  of  amber  snuff-box  justly  vain. 
And  the  nice  conduct  of  a  clouded  cane. 
With  earnest  eyes,  and  round  unthinking  face. 


} 


APPENDIX.  533 

He  first  the  snuff-box  opened,  then  the  case, 

And  thus  broke  out  —  "  My  lord,  why,  what  the  devil!  45 

Zounds !  damn  the  lock !  'fore  Gad,  you  must  be  civil! 

Plague  on 't !  't  is  past  a  jest  —  nay,  prithee,  pox ! 

Give  her  the  hair."  —  He  spoke,  and  rapped  his  box. 

"  It  grieves  me  much,"  replied  the  peer  again, 
'<  Who  speaks  so  well  should  ever  speak  in  vain;  50 

But  by  this  lock,  this  sacred  lock,  I  swear, 
(Which  never  more  shall  join  its  parted  hair ; 
Which  never  more  its  honours  shall  renew, 
Clipped  from  the  lovely  head  where  once  it  grew) 
That,  while  my  nostrils  draw  the  vital  air,  55 

This  hand,  which  won  it,  shall  for  ever  wear." 
He  spoke,  and  speaking,  in  proud  triumph  spread 
The  long-contended  honours  of  her  head. 

But  see !  the  nymph  in  sorrow's  pomp  appears, 
Her  eyes  half-languishing,  half  drowned  in  tears ;  60 

Now  livid  pale  her  cheeks,  now  glowing  red 
On  her  heaved  bosom  hung  her  drooping  head, 
Which  with  a  sigh  she  raised,  and  thus  she  said : 
"  For  ever  cursed  be  this  detested  day, 
Which  snatched  my  best,  my  fav'rite  curl  away;  65 

Happy!  ah  ten  times  happy  had  I  been. 
If  Hampton  Court  these  eyes  had  never  seen! 
Yet  am  not  I  the  first  mistaken  maid. 
By  love  of  courts  to  numerous  ills  betrayed, 
O  had  I  rather  unadmired  remained  yo 

In  some  lone  isle,  or  distant  northern  land. 
Where  the  gilt  chariot  never  marked  the  way, 
Where  none  learn  ombre,  none  e'er  taste  bohea! 
There  kept  my  charms  concealed  from  mortal  eye, 
Like  roses,  that  in  deserts  bloom  and  die.  75 

What  moved  my  mind  with  youthful  lords  to  roam? 
O  had  I  stayed,  and  said  my  pray'rs  at  home! 
'T  was  this  the  morning  omens  did  foretell, 
Thrice  from  my  trembling  hand  the  patchbox  fell ; 
The  tott'ring  china  shook  without  a  wind,  80 

Nay,  Poll  sat  mute,  and  Shock  was  most  unkind! 
See  the  poor  remnants  of  this  slighted  hair! 
My  hands  shall  rend  what  ev'n  thy  own  did  spare: 
This  in  two  sable  ringlets  taught  to  break. 
Once  gave  new  beauties  to  the  snowy  neck ;  85 

The  sister-lock  now  sits  uncouth,  alone, 
And  in  its  fellow's  fate  foresees  its^own ; 
Uncurled  it  hangs,  the  fatal  shears  demands. 
And  tempts  once  more  thy  sacrilegious  hands  .'* 

She  said :  the  pitying  audience  melt  in  tears ;    \  9^ 

But  fate  and  Jove  had  stopped  the  baron's  ears. 
In  vain  Thalestris  with  reproach  assails. 
For  who  can  move  when  fair  Belinda  f;^? 


534  APPENDIX. 

Not  half  so  fixed  the  Trojan  could  remain, 

While  Anna  begged  and  Dido  raged  in  vain.  9J 

"  To  arms,  to  arms !  "  the  bold  Thalestris  cries, 

And  swift  as  lightning  to  the  combat  flies. 

All  side  in  parties,  and  begin  th'  attack ; 

Fans  clap,  silks  rustle,  and  tough  whalebones  crack ; 

Heroes'  and  heroines'  shouts  confus'dly  rise,  loo 

And  bass  and  treble  voices  strike  the  skies ; 

No  common  weapons  in  their  hands  are  found, 

Like  gods  they  fight,  nor  dread  a  mortal  wound. 

So  when  bold  Homer  makes  the  gods  engage, 
And  heav'nly  breasts  with  human  passions  rage,  I05 

'Gainst  Pallas,  Mars  ;  Latona,  Hermes  arms, 
And  all  Olympus  rings  with  loud  alarms ; 
Jove's  thunder  roars,  heav'n  trembles  all  around, 
Blue  Neptune  storms,  the  bellowing  deeps  resound : 
Earth  shakes  her  nodding  tow'rs,  the  ground  gives  way,         IIO 
And  the  pale  ghosts  start  at  the  flash  of  day ! 

While  through  the  press  enraged  Thalestris  flies, 
And  scatters  death  around  from  both  her  eyes, 
A  beau  and  witling  perished  in  the  throng, 
One  died  in  metaphor,  and  one  in  song.  tI5 

<*  O  cruel  nymph  ;  a  living  death  I  bear," 
Cried  Dapperwit,  and  sunk  beside  his  chair. 
A  mournful  glance  Sir  Fopling  upwards  cast, 
"  Those  eyes  are  made  so  killing  "  —  was  his  last. 
Thus  on  Maeander's  flow'ry  margin  lies  120 

Th'  expiring  swan,  and  as  he  sings  he  dies. 

As  bold  Sir  Plume  had  drawn  Clarissa  down, 
Chloe  stepped  in,  and  killed  him  with  a  frown ; 
She  smiled  to  see  the  doughty  hero  slain, 
But  at  her  smile  the  beau  revived  again.  I25 

Now  Jove  suspends  his  golden  scales  in  air, 
Weighs  the  men's  wits  against  the  lady's  hair ; 
The  doubtful  beam  long  nods  from  side  to  side ; 
At  length  the  wits  mount  up,  the  hairs  subside. 

See  fierce  Belinda  on  the  baron  flies,  I30 

With  more  than  usual  lightning  in  her  eyes : 
Nor  feared  the  chief  th'  unequal  fight  to  try. 
Who  sought  no  more  than  on  his  foe  to  die. 
But  this  bold  lord,  with  manly  strength  endued, 
She  with  one  finger  and  a  thumb  subdued :  I35 

Just  where  the  breath  of  life  his  nostrils  drew, 
A  charge  of  snuff  the  wily  virgin  threw ; 
Sudden,  with  starting  tears  each  eye  o'erflows, 
And  the  high  dome  re-echoes  to  his  nose. 

"  Now  meet  thy  fate,"  th'  incensed  virago  cried,  I40 

And  drew  a  deadly  bodkin  from  her  side. 

"  Boast  not  my  fall,"  he  said,  "  insulting  foe  I 
Thou  by  some  other  shalt  be  laid  as  low ; 


APPENDIX.  535 

Nor  think  to  die  dejects  my  lofty  mind ; 

All  that  I  dread  is  leaving  you  behind!  I45 

Rather  than  so,  ah  let  me  still  survive, 

And  still  burn  on,  in  Cupid's  flames,  alive.'' 

"  Restore  the  lock! "  she  cries ;  and  all  around 
*' Restore  the  lock!"  the  vaulted  roofs  rebound. 
Not  fierce  Othello  in  so  loud  a  strain  1 50 

Roared  for  the  handkerchief  that  caused  his  pain. 
But  see  how  oft  ambitious  aims  are  crossed, 
And  chiefs  contend  till  all  the  prize  is  lost! 
The  lock,  obtained  with  guilt,  and  kept  with  pain, 
In  evVy  place  is  sought,  but  sought  in  vain :  155 

With  such  a  prize  no  mortal  must  be  blessed, 
So  heav'n  decrees!  with  heav'n  who  can  contest? 
Some  thought  it  mounted  to  the  lunar  sphere, 
Since  all  that  man  e'er  lost  is  treasured  there. 
There  heroes'  wits  are  kept  in  pond'rous  vases,  160 

And  beaux'  in  snuff-boxes  and  tweezer-cas*es. 
There  broken  vows,  and  death-bed  alms  are  found, 
And  lovers'  hearts  with  ends  of  ribbon  bound. 
The  courtier's  promises,  and  sick  man's  pray'rs, 
The  smiles  of  harlots,  and  the  tears  of  heirs,  165 

Cages  for  gnats,  and  chains  to  yoke  a  flea. 
Dried  butterflies,  and  tomes  of  casuistry. 

But  trust  the  muse  —  she  saw  it  upward  rise. 
Though  marked  by  none  but  quick  poetic  eyes : 
(Thus  Rome's  great  founder  to  the  heav'ns  withdrew,  170 

To  Proculus  alone  confessed  in  view) 
A  sudden  star,  it  shot  through  liquid  air. 
And  drew  behind  a  radiant  trail  of  hair. 
Not  Berenice's  locks  first  rose  so  bright, 

The  skies  bespankling  with  dishevelled  light.  175 

This  the  beau  monde  shall  from  the  Mall  survey,  \ 

As  through  the  moonlight  shade  they  nightly  stray,         > 
And  hail  with  music  its  propitious  ray ;  J 

This  Partridge  soon  shall  view  in  cloudless  skies, 
When  next  he  looks  through  Galileo's  eyes ;  180 

And  hence  th'  egregious  wizard  shall  foredoom 
The  fate  of  Louis,  and  the  fall  of  Rome. 

Then  cease,  bright  nymph !  to  mourn  thy  ravished  hair. 
Which  adds  new  glory  to  the  shining  sphere! 
Not  all  the  tresses  that  fair  head  can  boast,  185 

Shall  draw  such  envy  as  the  lock  you  lost. 
For  after  all  the  murders  of  your  eye, 
When,  after  millions  slain,  yourself  shall  die ; 
When  those  fair  suns  shall  set,  as  set  they  must^ 
And  all  those  tresses  shall  be  laid  in  dust,  I90 

This  lock  the  muse  shall  consecrate  to  fame. 
And  'midst  the  stars  inscribe  Belinda's  name. 


APPENDIX. 

IV. 


REPRINT  OF  THE  FIRST  EDITION 


OF 


THE  DUNCIAD. 


THE 

D  U  N  C  I  A  D. 

AN 

Heroic  Poem. 

IN 

THREE    BOOKS. 


Dublin,  Printed,  London,  Re- 
printed for  A.  DoDD.     1728. 


THE  PUBLISHER  TO  THE  READER. 

It  will  be  found  a  true  observation,  tho*  somewhat  surprising,  that  when  any 
scandal  is  vented  against  a  man  of  the  highest  distinction  and  character  either  in 
the  State  or  in  Literature,  the  publick  in  general  afford  it  a  most  quiet  reception, 
and  the  larger  part  accept  it  as  favourably  as  if  it  were  some  kindness  done 
to  themselves:  Whereas  if  a  known  scoundrel  or  blockhead  chance  to  be  but 
touch'd  upon,  a  whole  legion  is  up  in  Arms,  and  it  becomes  the  common  Cause 
of  all  Scriblers,  Booksellers,  and  Printers  whatsoever. 

Not  to  search  too  deeply  into  the  reason  hereof,  I  will  only  observe  as  a  Fact^ 
that  every  week  for  these  two  Months  past,  the  town  has  been  persecuted  with 
Pamphlets,  Advertisements,  Letters,  and  weekly  Essays,  not  only  against  the  Wit 
and  Writings,  but  against  the  Character  and  Person,  of  Mr.  Pope.  And  that  of 
all  those  men  who  have  received  pleasure  from  his  Writings  (which  by  modest  * 
computation  may  be  about  a  hundred  thousand  in  these  Kingdoms  of  England 
and  Ireland,  not  to  mention  Jersey,  Guernsey,  the  Orcades,  those  in  the  New 
World,  and  Foreigners  who  have  translated  him  into  their  languages)  of  all  this 
number,  not  a  man  hath  stood  up  to  say  one  word  in  his  defence. 

The  only  exception  is  the  Author  of  the  following  Poem,  who  doubtless  had 
either  a  better  insight  into  the  grounds  of  this  clamour,  or  a  better  opinion  of 
Mr.  Pope's  integrity,  join'd  with  a  greater  personal  love  for  him,  than  any  other 
of  his  numerous  friends  and  admirers. 

Further,  that  he  was  in  his  peculiar  intimacy,  appears  from  the  knowledge  he 
manifests  of  the  most  private  Authors  of  all  the  anonymous  pieces  against  him, 
and  from  his  having  in  this  Poem  attacked  no  man  living,  who  had  not  before 
printed  and  published  against  this  particular  Gentleman. 

How  I  became  possest  of  it,  is  of  no  concern  to  the  Reader;  but  it  would  have 
been  a  wrong  to  him,  had  I  detain'd  this  publication :  since  those  Names  which 
are  its  chief  ornaments,  die  off  daily  so  fast,  as  must  render  it  too  soon  unintelli- 
gible.    If  it  provoke  the  Author  to  give  us  a  more  perfect  edition,  I  have  my  end. 

Who  he  is,  I  cannot  say,  and  (which  is  great  pity)  there  is  certainly  nothing  in 
his  style  and  manner  of  writing,  which  can  distinguish,  or  discover  him.  For  if 
it  bears  any  resemblance  to  that  of  Mr.  P.  't  is  not  improbable  but  it  might  be  done 
on  purpose,  with  a  view  to  have  it  pass  for  his.  But  by  the  frequency  of  his  allu- 
sions to  Virgil,  and  a  labour^ dy  (not  to  say  affected^  shortness ^  in  imitation  of  him, 
I  should  think  him  more  an  admirer  of  the  Roman  Poet  than  of  the  Grecian,  and 
in  that,  not  of  the  same  taste  with  his  Friend. 

I  have  been  well  inform'd,  that  this  work  was  the  labour  of  full  six  years  of 
his  life,  and  that  he  retired  himself  entirely  from  all  the  avocations  and  pleasures 
of  the  world,  to  attend  diligently  to  its  correction  and  perfection;  and  six  years 

541 


542  APPENDIX, 

more  he  intended  to  bestow  upon  it,  as  it  should  seem  by  this  verse  of  Statius, 
which  was  cited  at  the  head  of  his  manuscript. 

Oh  mihi  bissenos  multum  vigilata  per  annos, 

Duncia ! 

Hence  also  we  learn  the  true  Title  of  the  Poem;  which  with  the  same  certainty 
as  we  call  that  of  Homer  the  Iliad,  of  Virgil  the  ^neid,  of  Camoens  the  Lusiad, 
of  Voltaire  the  Henriad,  we  may  pronounce  could  have  been,  and  can  be  no 
other,  than 

The  Dunciad. 

It  is  styled  Heroic ^  as  being  doubly  so;  not  only  with  respect  to  its  nature, 
which  according  to  the  best  Rules  of  the  Ancients  and  strictest  ideas  of  the 
Moderns,  is  critically  such;  but  also  with  regard  to  the  Heroical  disposition  and 
high  courage  of  the  Writer,  who  dar'd  to  stir  up  such  a  formidable,  irritable,  and 
implacable  race  of  mortals. 

The  time  and  date  of  the  Action  is  evidently  in  the  last  reign,  when  the  office 
of  City  Poet  expir'd  upon  the  death  of  Elkanah  Settle,  and  he  has  fix'd  it  to  the 
.Mayoralty  of  Sir  Geo.  Tho Id.  But  there  may  arise  some  obscurity  in  Chro- 
nology from  the  Names  in  the  Poem,  by  the  inevitable  removal  of  some  Authors, 
and  insertion  of  others,  in  their  Niches.  For  whoever  will  consider  the  unity  of 
the  whole  design,  will  be  sensible,  that  the  Poem  was  not  made  for  these  Author s^ 
but  these  Authors  for  the  Poem.  And  I  should  judge  they  were  clapp'd  in  as  they 
rose,  fresh  and  fresh,  and  chang'd  from  day  to  day,  in  like  manner  as  when  the 
old  boughs  wither,  we  thrust  new  ones  into  a  chimney. 

I  would  not  have  the  reader  too  much  troubled  or  anxious,  if  he  cannot  decy- 
pher  them;  since  when  he  shall  have  found  them  out,  he  will  probably  know  no 
more  of  the  Persons  than  before. 

Yet  we  judg'd  it  better  to  preserve  them  as  they  are,  than  to  change  them  for 
fictitious  names,  by  which  the  Satyr  would  only  be  multiplied;  and  applied  to 
many  instead  of  one.     Had  the  Hero,  for  instance,  been  called  Codrus,  how  many 

would  have  affirm'd  him  to  be  Mr.  W ,  Mr.  D ,  Sir  R B — ,  &c.,  but 

now,  all  that  unjust  scandal  is  saved,  by  calling  him  Theobald,  which  by  good 
luck  happens  to  be  the  name  of  a  real  person. 

I  am  indeed  aware,  that  this  name  may  to  some  appear  too  mean,  for  the  Hero 
of  an  Epic  Poem?  But  it  is  hoped,  they  will  alter  that  opinion,  when  they  find, 
that  an  Author  no  less  eminent  than  La  Bruyere,  has  thought  him  worthy  a  place 
in  his  Characters. 

Voudriez  vous,  Theobald E,  que  je  crusse  que  vous  §tes  baisse?  que  vous  n'etes 
plus  Poete,  ni  bel  esprit?  que  vous  etes  presentement  aussi  Mauvais  juge  de  tout 
genre  d''  Ouvrage^  que  Mechant  Auteur  ?  Votre  air  libre  &  presumptueux  me 
rassure,  &  me  persuade  tout  le  contraire,  «&c.  Characteres,  Vol.  I.  de  b  ^ociet6 
&  de  la  Conversation,  p.  1 76,  Edit,  Amst.  1 720. 


APPENDIX.  543 

THE   DUNCIAD. 

BOOK  THE  FIRST. 

Book  and  the  man  I  sing,  the  first  who  brings 

The  Smithfield  muses  to  the  ears  of  kings  ; 

Say  great  Patricians !  (since  yourselves  inspire 

These  wond'rous  works  ;  so  yove  and  fate  require !) 

Say  from  what  cause,  in  vain  decry'd  and  curst,  5 

Still  ^  Dunce  the  second  reigns  like  Dunce  the  first  f  * 

In  eldest  time,  e'er  mortals  writ  or  read, 
E'er  Pa/las  issued  from  the  Thund'rer's  head^ 
Dulness  o'er  all  possess'd  her  antient  right, 
Daughter  of  Chaos  and  eternal  Night :  10 

Fate  in  their  dotage  this  fair  idiot  gave, 
Gross  as  her  sire,  and  as  her  mother  grave, 
Laborious,  heavy,  busy,  bold,  and  blind, 
She  rul'd,  in  native  anarchy,  the  mind. 

Still  her  old  empire  to  confirm,  she  tries,*  I5 

For  born  a  Goddess,  Dulness  never  dies. 

Where  wave  the  tatter'd  ensigns  of  Rag-Fair ^ 
A  yawning  ruin  hangs  and  nods  *  in  air ; 
Keen,  hollow  ^  winds  howl  thro'  the  bleak  recess, 
Emblem  of  music  caus'd  by  emptiness  :  20 

Here  in  one  bed  two  shiv'ring  sisters  lye. 
The  cave  of  Poverty  and  Poetry. 
This,  the  Great  Mother  dearer  held  than  all 
The  clubs  of  Quidnuncs^  or  her  own  Guild-hall: 
Here  stood  her  Opium,  here  she  nurs'd  ^  her  Owls,  25 

And  destin'd  here  th'  imperial  seat  of  fools. 
Hence  springs  each  weekly  muse,  the  living  boast 
Of  C — Vs  chaste  press,  and  L — fs  rubric  post ; 
Hence  hymning  "^  Tyburn'' s  elegiac  lay, 

Hence  the  soft  sing-song  ^  on  Cecilia* s  day,  30 

Sepulchral  lyes  our  holy  ^  walls  to  grace. 
And  New-year-Odes,  and  all  the  Grubstreet  race. 

\^'^^^:      ^.  ,      ,  ,  ,     .         ,.  Since  thus  Jove's  willi   °^^  !■  Britain's  fate  rc- 

2  Jonathan  Richardson  corrected  the  first  edi-  i  and  ) 

of  the  '  Dunciad '  from  what  he  calls  *  the  first  quire, 

Broglio  MS.'    His  corrections  have  been  tran-  Say  what  the  cause  that  still  this  taste  remains, 

scribed  by  Mr.  Elwin,  and  are  here  preserved.  And  when  a  Settle  falls  a  Tibbald  reigns." 
In  the  MS.  the  first  six  lines  ran:  3  in  the  MS.:    "  Still  her  lost  empire  to  re* 

**  Books  and  the  Man  who  first  from  Grub  Street  store  she  tries." 

brings  *  In  the  MS.:  "  Seems  to  nod." 

The  Smithfield  Muses  to  the  Courts  of  Kings  ^  In  the  MS. :  "  Eternal." 

I  sing:    Say,  great  ones,  (you  these  works  in-        ^  In  the  MS.:  *'  Kept," 

spire  'In  the  MS. :  "  Weeping." 

*  In  the  MS.:  "  Nothings." 
»  In  the  MS. :  *'  HaUowed." 


544  APPENDIX, 

*Twas  here  in  clouded  majesty  she  shone*, 
Four  guardian  Virtues^  round,  support  her  throne  ;"*" 
Fierce-^  champion  Fortitude^  that  knows  no  fears ^  35 

Of  hisses,  blows,  or  want,  or  loss  of  ears  : 
Calm  Temperance^  whose  blessings  those  partake- 
Who  hunger,  and  who  thirst  for  scribling  sake : 
Prudence^  whose  glass  presents  th'  approaching  jayl ; 
Poetic  Justice^  with  her  lifted  scale  ;  ^  40 

Where  in  nice  balance,  truth  with  gold  she  weighs, 
And  solid  pudding  against  empty  praise. 

Here  she  beholds  the  Chaos  dark  and  deep. 
Where  nameless  somethings  in  their  causes  sleep, 
'Till  genial  Jacobs  or  a  warm  third-day  45 

Calls  forth  each  mass,  a  poem  or  a  play. 
How  hints,  like  spawn,  scarce  quick  in  embryo  lie ;  ® 
How  new-born  nonsense  first  is  taught  to  cry ; 
Maggots  half-form'd,  in  rhyme  exactly  meet, 
And  learn  to  crawl  upon  poetic  feet.  50 

Here  one  poor  Word  a  hundred  clenches  makes, 
And  ductile  dulness  new  meanders  takes ; 
There  motley  "^  Images  her  fancy  strike, 
Figures  ill-pair'd,^  and  Similes  unlike. 

She  sees  a  mob  of  ^  Metaphors  advance,  55 

PleasM  with  the  madness  of  the  mazy  dance : 
How  ^^  Tragedy  and  Comedy  embrace  ; 
How  ^^  Farce  and  Epic  get  a  jumbled  race  : 
How  ^2  Xi7ne  himself  stands  still  at  her  command. 
Realms  shift  their  place,  and  Ocean  turns  to  land.  60 

Here  gay  Description  ^gypt  glads  ^^  with  showers, 
Or  gives  to  Zembla  fruits,  to  Barca  flowers  ; 
Glittering  with  ice  here  hoary  hills  are  seen. 
Fast  by,  fair^^  vallies  of  eternal  green, 

On  cold  December  fragrant  ^^  chaplets  blow,  65 

And  heavy  harvests  nod  beneath  the  snow. 

All  these  and  more,  the  cloud-compelling  Queen 
Beholds  thro'  fogs,  that  magnify  the  scene ; 
She,  tinsel'd  o'er  ^^  in  robes  of  varying  hues, 

1  In  the  MS. :  "  With  every  Virtue  that  up-  ^  In  the  MS. :  **  Now  sees  contending." 
held  her  throne."                                                             lo  In  the  MS. :  "  Now." 

2  In  the  MS. :  "  First."  "  In  the  MS. :  **  Now." 
8  In  the  MS. :  "  Nothing  fears."                               "  In  the  MS. :  "  Now." 

*  In  the  MS.:    "Next  Vestal   Temperance        ^^  in  the  MS.:   "Here  unconfined  descrip. 

that  blest  can  make."  tion  paints." 

6  In  the  MS. :  i*  In  the  MS. :  "  There  smiling."    In  edition 

**  Here  P.  .  .  .  with  a  patron  for  her  hail,  of  1729:  **  There  painted." 
And  there  poetic  Justice  holds  her  scale."  -^  j^^^  ^^  j^g  .    j  "  Flow'ry.  I 

6  In  the  MS.:  **  Here  she  beholds  how  hiut«  * '    \     Rosy."     f 

in  embryo  lie,"  w  In  the  MS. :  '*  She  high  enthroned  \ 

Mn  the  MS.:  "Now  two-shaped."  Refulgent  she."        f 

«  In  the  MS.:  "Ill-joined." 


APPENDIX,  545 

With  self-applause  her  wild  creation  views,  70 

Sees  momentary  monsters  rise  and  fall, 

And  with  her  own  fools-colours  gilds  them  all. 

'T  was  on  the  day,^  when  2  Tho — d^  rich  and  grave, 
Like  2  Cimon  triumph^  both  on  land  and  wave, 
(Pomps  without  guilt,  of  bloodless  swords  and  maces,  75 

Glad  chains,  warm  furs,  broad  banners,*  and  broad  faces) 
Now  night  descending,  the  proud  scene  was  o'er, 
Yet^  liv'd,  in  Settle's  numbers,  one  day  more. 
Now  Mayors  and  Shrieves  in  pleasing  slumbers  lay. 
And  eat  in  dreams  the  custard  of  the  day :  80 

But  pensive  poets  painful  vigils  keep ; 
Sleepless  themselves,  to  give  their  readers  sleep. 
Much  to  her  mind  the  solemn  feast  recalls, 
What  &iy-Swans  once  sung  within  the  walls, 
Much  she  revolves  their  arts,  their  antient  ^  praise,  85 

And  sure  succession  down  from  "^  Heywood''s  days. 
She  saw  with  joy  the  line  immortal  run. 
Each  sire  imprest  and  glaring  in  his  son ; 
So  watchful  Bruin  forms  with  plastic  care 
Each  growing  lump,  and  brings  it  to  a  Bear.  90 

She  saw  in  N'—n  all  his  father  shine. 
And  E — n  eke  out  Bl — 'j  endless  line ; 
She  saw  slow  P—s  creep  like  T—te'^s  poor  page, 
And  furious  D — n  foam  in  Wh — V  rage.^ 

In  each,  she  marks  her  image  full  exprest,  95 

But  chief,  in  TibbaWs  monster-breeding  breast, 
Sees  Gods  with  Daemons  in  strange  league  ingage, 
And^  earth,  and  heaven,  and  hell,  her  battels  wage!^^ 

She  ey'd  the  Bard  where  supperless  he  sate, 
And  pinM,  unconscious  of  his  rising  ^^  fate ;  100 

Studious  he  sate,  with  all  his  books  around. 
Sinking  from  thought  to  thought,  a  vast  profound! 
PlungM  for  his  sense,  but  found  no  bottom  there : 
Then  writ,  and  flounder^  on,  in  mere  despair. 
He  roird  his  eyes  that  witness'd  huge  dismay,  105 

1  "  'T  was  that  great  day."  "  And  all  the  mighty  mad  in  Dennis  rage,') 

'SirC..   7-A.— .-Pope.  And  Dun.on  foaming  sUU  in  ^  Wh^''^^ 

^  Cimon,  the  \3imo\x%  Atheman  general  who  *i                                <  Welsteds 

obtained  a  victory  by  sea,  and  another  by  land,  ,  r^^P\  presume,  alludes  to   the  extrava- 

on  the  same  day,  over  the  Perszans  and  Barba-  j^^  ^^  ^^^  p^^^^^  ^^  ,his  author.     See  Book 

'''7^'~i    Zl'    ..e  »  III.  ver.  170,  &c.- Pope. 

.  ;«  ^^i^  MS. :      Streamers."  ,o  in  the  MS.  these  four  lines  ran: 

6  T    ^t^'^^     T^ '         "**  "  ^"*  c^i^f  ^^^  ^^^^^"g  Tibbald  filled  her  thought 

In  the  Mb.:      former.  With  rising  worlds,  and  monsters  yet  unwrought, 

^  yoAn    Heywood    whose    Interludes  were    Fiends,  monsters,  gods  amazing  leagues  prepare, 

pnnted  in  Hen.  Vlllth  s  time.  -  Pope.  ^^^  j^  ^^^  ^^^^^  ^^^^^^  jl^,l^  E^^^j^^  ^^  j^^,. 


8  In  the  MS.: 

2N 


"  In  the  MS. :  **  The  birth  of." 


546  APPENDIX. 

Where  yet  unpawnM,  much  learned  lumber  ^  lay, 

Volumes,  whose  size  the  space  exactly  fill'd ; 

Or  which  fond  authors  were  so  good  to  gild ; 

Or  where,  by  Sculpture  made  for  ever  known, 

The  page  admires  hew  beauties,  not  its  own.^  Iio 

Here  swells  the  shelf  ^  with  Ogleby  the  great, 

There,  stampM  with  arms,  Newcastle  shines  compleat, 

Here  all  his  suif 'ring  brotherhood  retire. 

And  'scape  the  martyrdom  of  jakes  and  fire  ;  ^ 

A  Gothic  Vatican!  of  Greece  and  Rome  1 15 

Well-purg'd,  and  worthy  IV— y,  W — s,  and  Bl — .^ 

But  high  above,  more  solid  Learning  shone, ^ 
The  Clas sicks  of  an  age  that  heard  of  none  ; 
There  Caxton  slept,  with  Wynkin  at  his  side, 
One  clasp'd  in  wood,  and  one  in  strong  cow-hide :    .  120 

There  sav'd  by  spice,  like  mummies,  many  a  year, 
Old  Bodies  of  Philosophy  appear : 
De  Lyra  there  a  dreadful  front  extends, 
And  there,  the  groaning  Shelves  Philemon  bends. 

Of  these  twelve  volumes,  twelve  of  amplest  size,  125 

Redeemed  from  tapers  "^  and  defrauded  pyes, 
Inspir'd  he  seizes  :  These  an  altar  raise  : 
An  hecatomb  of  pure,  unsully'd  lays 
That  altar  crowns  ;  a  folio  Common-place 
Founds  the  whole  pyle,  of  all  his  works  the  base:  130 

Quarto's,  octavo's,  shape  the  lessening  pyre, 
And  last,  a  ^  little  Ajax  tips  the  spire. 

Then  he.     Great  Tamer  of  all  human  art!  • 
First  in  my  care,  and  nearest  at  my  heart! 
Dulnessl  whose  good  old  cause  I  yet  defend,^^^  135 

With  whom  my  muse  began,  with  whom  shall  end! 
Oh  thou!  of  business  the  directing  soul, 
To  human  heads  like  byass  to  the  bowl. 
Which  as  more  pond'rous  makes  their  aim  more  true, 
Obliquely  wadling  to  the  mark  in  view.  140 

1  In  the  MS. :  «  In  the  MS. : 

"The  spoils  of  Sturbridge,  \  .  ^i.^ers,  ]  Q"^^^"  \  and  Bloom." 

Philemon  s  labours.  )  <  Watts     ) 

*  In  the  MS. ;  In  editions  of  1729,  1736,  "  Withers,  Quarles, 

"  Or  where  the  pictures  for  the  piece  atone,  and  Bloom." 
Saved  by  the  graver's  work  and  not  their  own."         In  1743,  "  Settle,  Banks,  and  Broome." 

3  In  the  MS. :  "  Here  bends  a  shelf."  6  in  the  MS. :  "  But  far  above  in  Time's  old 

4  After  V.  114  in  the  MS. :  tarnish  shone." 

*'  Here  Christian  Quarles  thy  pictured  works  are  ^  in  the  MS. :  **  Spices." 

thrown,  ®  In  duodecimo,  translated  from  Sophocles.  — 

And  all  who  Benlowes  as  Maecenas  own."  Pope. 

Or,  9  In  the  MS, :  "  Then  thus,  O  Dulness,  victot 

"  Polemics  huge  of  strength  to  fortifie,  of  all  art." 

The  feeble  band-box,  or  uphold  the  pie."  ^^  In  the  MS. :   "  Whose  good  old  cause  un- 

prosperous  I  defend" 


APPENDIX. 


547 


O  ever  gracious  to  perplex'd  mankind ! 

Who  spread  a  healing  mist  before  the  mind, 

And,  lest  we  err  by  wit's  wild,  dancing  ^  light, 

Secure  us  kindly  in  our  native  night. 

Ah !  still  o'er  Britain  stretch  that  peaceful  wand,^  145 

Which  lulls  th'  Helvetian  and  Batavian  land, 

Where  'gainst  thy  throne  if  rebel  Science  rise,^ 

She  does  but  show  her  coward  face  and  dies : 

There,  thy  good  scholiasts  with  unweary'd  pains 

Make  Horace  flat,  and  humble  Maro'^s  strains ;  150 

Here  studious  I  unlucky  Moderns  save, 

Nor  sleeps  one  error  in  its  father's  grave. 

Old  puns  restore,  lost  blunders  nicely  seek, 

And  crucify  poor  Shakespear  once  a  week."* 

For  thee  I  dim  these  eyes,  and  stuff  this  head,  155 

With  all  such  reading  as  was  never  ^  read ; 

For  thee  supplying,  in  the  worst  of  days. 

Notes  to  dull  books,  and  Prologues  to  dull  plays ; 

For  thee  explain  a  thing  'till  all  men  doubt  it, 

And  write  about  it,  Goddess,  and  about  it ;  160 

So  spins  the  silkworm  small  its  slender  store, 

And  labours,  'till  it  clouds  itself  all  o'er. 

Not  that  my  pen  to  criticks  ®  was  confin'd, 

My  verse  gave  ampler  lessons  to  mankind ; 

So  written  "^  precepts  may  successless  prove,  165 

But  sad  examples  never  fail  to  move. 

As  forc'd  from  wind-guns,  lead  itself  can  fly, 

And  pond'rous  slugs  cut  swiftly  thro'  the  sky : 

As  clocks  to  weight  their  nimble  motion  owe. 

The  wheels  above  urg'd  by  the  load  below ;  170 

Me,  Emptiness  and  Dulness  could  inspire. 

And  were  my  Elasticity,  and  Fire. 

Had  heav'n  decreed  such  works  a  longer  date, 

Heav'n  had  decreed  to  spare  the  Grubstreet-sXdXt, 

But  see  ^  great  Settle  to  the  dust  descend,  175 

And  all  thy  cause  and  empire  at  an  end 

Cou'd  Troy  be  sav'd  by  any  single  hand, 

His  gray-goose-weapon  must  have  made  her  stand. 

But  what  can  I !  my  Flaccus  cast  aside. 

Take  up  th'  Attorney'' s  (once  my  better)  guide  ?^  180 

1  In  the  MS. :  '*  Reason's  wandering."  '  In  edition  of  1729:  **  Gravest." 

2  In  the  MS. :    "  And  may'st  thou  yet  o'er         ^  xhis  was  the  last  year  of  Elkanah  Settle's 
Britain  stretch  that  wand."  life.     He  was  poet  to  the  city  of  London,  whose 

^  In  the  edition  of  1729:'  "  Where  rebel  to  thy  business  was  to  compose  yearly  panegyricks  on 

throne  if  Science  rise."  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  verses  for  the  Pageants; 

*  In  the  MS. :  but  since  the  abolition  of  that  part  of  the  shows, 

**  Lost  puns  or  blunders  to  each  line  restore,  the  employment  ceas'd,  so  that  Settle  had  no 

And  crucify  poor  Shakespeare  o'er  and  o'er."  successor  to  that  place.  —  Pope. 
6  In  the  MS. :  "  No  man  e'er."  ^  In  the  MS. : 

«  In  the  MS.  and  edition  of  1729 :  "  Not  that     **  But  what  can  I !  Thus,  thus  at  least  I  show 
my  quill."  My  zeal,  thy  long-tried  confessor  below." 


548  APPENDIX, 

Or  rob  the  Roman  geese  of  all  their  glories, 

And  save  the  state  by  cackling  to  the  Tories? 

Yes,  to  my  country  I  my  pen  consign/ 

Yes,^  from  this  moment,  mighty  Mist !  am  thine, 

A  rival,  Curtius !  of  thy  fame  and  zeal,  185 

O'er  head  and  ears  plunge  for  the  public  weal. 

Adieu  my  children!  better  thus  expire 

Un-stalPd,  unsold ;  thus  glorious  mount  in  fire 

Fair  without  spot ;  than  greas'd  by  grocer's  hands, 

Or  shipp'd  with  W—  to  ape  and  monkey  lands,  190 

Or  wafting  ginger,  round  the  streets  to  go,^ 

And  visit  alehouse  where  ye  first  did  grow.* 

With  that,  he  lifted  thrice  the  sparkling  brand. 
And  thrice  he  dropt  it  from  his  quivVing  hand : 
Then  lights  the  structure,  with  averted  eyes  ;  195 

The  rowling  smokes  involve  the  sacrifice. 
The  opening  clouds  disclose  each  work  by  turns. 
Now  flames  old  ^  Memnon,  now  Rodrigo  burns, 
In  one  quick  flash  see  Proserpine  expire, 

And  last,  his  own  cold  ^schylus  took  fire.  200 

Then  gush'd  the  tears,  as  from  the  Trojan's  eyes 
When  the  last  blaze  sent  Ilion  to  the  skies. 

Rowz'd  by  the  light,  old  Dulness  heav'd  the  head. 
Then  snatch'd  a  sheet  of  ThuU  from  her  Bed, 
Sudden  she  flies,  and  whelms  it  o'er  the  pyre ;  205 

Down  sink  the  flames,  and  with  a  hiss  expire. 

Her  ample  presence  fills  up  all  the  place ; 
A  veil  of  fogs  dilates  her  awful  face. 
Great  in  her  charms!  as  when  on  Shrieves  and  May'rs 
She  looks,  and  breathes  herself  into  their  airs.  210 

She  bids  him  wait  her  to  the  sacred  Dome ; 
Well-pleas'd  he  enter'd,  and  confess'd  his  home : 
So  spirits,  ending  their  terrestrial  race. 
Ascend,  and  recognise  their  native  place : 
Raptur'd,,  he  gazes  round  the  dear  retreat,  215 

And  ^  in  sweet  numbers  celebrates  the  feat. 

Here  to  her  Chosen  all  her  works  she  shows ;  "^ 
Prose  swell'd  to  verse.  Verse  loit'ring  into  prose : 
How  random  thoughts  now  meaning  chance  to  find,^ 
Now  leave  all  memory  of  sense  behind  ;  220 

How  Prologues  into  Prefaces  decay, 

1  In  the  MS. :   **  Let  Pryn  and  Withers  now        «  He  writ  a  poem  called  the  Cave  of  Poverty  t 
their  wreaths  resign."  printed  in  1715. 

2  In  the  MS. :  "  I."  ^  In  the  MS. :    "  Here  the  whole  process  of 
«  In  the  MS. :  **  Run."                                          her  art  she  shows." 

*  In  the  MS. :  "  Begun."  »  In  the  MS. :    **  How  unideal  thoughts  now 

°  Plays  and  Farces  of  T d.  meaning  find." 


APPENDIX.  549 

And  those  ^  to  Notes  are  frittered  quite  away : 

How  Index-learning  turns  no  student  pale, 

Yet  holds  the  eel  of  science  by  the  Tail : 

How,  with  less  reading  than  makes  felons  'scape,  225 

Less  human  genius  ^  than  God  gives  an  ape, 

Small  thanks  to  France^  and  none  to  Ro?ne  or  Greece, 

A  past,  vampM,  future,  old,  reviv'd,  new  piece, 

*Twixt  Plautusy  Fletcher^  Congreve,  and  Corneille, 

Can  make  a  C r,  Jo n,  or  O 11.^  230 

The  Goddess  then,  o'er  his  anointed  head, 
With  mystic  words  the  sacred  Opium  shed ; 
And  lo!  her  Bird  (a  monster  of  a  fowl! 
Something  betwixt  a  //—  and  Owl) 

Perch'd  on  his  crown.     All  hail!  and  hail  again,  235 

My  son!  the  promis'd  land  expects  thy  reign.'* 
Know  ^  Settle,  cloy'd  with  custard  and  with  praise, 
Is  gather'd  to  the  Dull  ^  of  antient  days. 
Safe,  where  no  "^  criticks  damn,  no  duns  molest, 
Where  G — «,  B — ,  and  high-born  H —  rest!^  240 

I  see  a  King*!  who  leads  my  chosen  sons  ^ 
To  ^°  lands  that  flow  with  clenches  and  with  puns : 
Till  each  fam'd  theatre  ^^  my  empire  own, 
Till  Albiort,  as  Hibernia,  bless  my  throne. ^^ 
I  see!  I  see!  —  Then  rapt,  she  spoke  no  more.  245 

God  save  King  Tibbald!     Grubstreet  alleys  roar. 

So  when  Jove'^s  block  descended  from  on  high, 
(As  sings  thy  great  fore-father,  Ogilby,) 
Hoarse  thunder  to  its  bottom  shook  ^^  the  bog, 
And  the  loud  nation  croak'd,  God  save  King  Log  I  250 

1  In  the  edition  of  1729:  "  These."  '  In  the  MS. :  "  Where  neither." 

«  In  the  MS. :  "  Science."  8  in  the  MS. :  «*  Where  Dunton,  Babor,  Gil- 

8  In  the  MS. :  don,  Howard  rest." 

♦«  Gibber,  Bladen        (  ^^  q^^jj  „  9  In  the  MS. :  **  Take  thou  the  sceptre,  rule 

Shadwell,  Welsted )  '  thy  chosen  sons." 

*  In  the  MS.:  10  In  the  MS.:  "In." 

"  Behold,  she  cried,  the  day,  n  In  the  MS. :  "  Rule  till  both  theatres." 

The  promised  nation  now  expects  thy  sway."  12  jn  the  MS. :    "  And  near  our  Monarch's 

fi  In  the  MS. :  "  Since."  dulness  fix  her  throne." 
«  In  the  MS. :  "  Now  sleeps  among  the  dull."         is  In  the  MS. :  "  Shook  the  bottom  of." 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  BOOK. 


5SO  APPENDIX. 

THE   DUNCIAD. 

BOOK  THE  SECOND. 

The  sons  of  Dulness  meet :  ^  an  endless  band 

Pours  forth,  and  leaves  unpeopled  half  the  land, 

A  motley  mixture!  in  long  wigs,  in  bags. 

In  silks,  in  crapes,  in  garters,  and  in  rags ; 

From  drawing  rooms,  from  colleges,  from  garrets,  5 

On  horse,  on  foot,  in  hacks,  and  gilded  chariots. 

All  who  true  Dunces  in  her  cause  appeared. 

And  all  who  knew  those  Dunces  to  reward.^ 

Now  herald  hawker's  rusty  voice  proclaims 
Heroic  prizes,  and  adventurous  Games  ;  lo 

In  that  wide  space  the  Goddess  took  her  stand 
Where  the  tall  May-pole  once  o'erlook'd  the  Strand; 
But  now  (so  ANNE  and  Piety  ordain) 
A  Church  collects  the  saints  of  Drury-lane. 
With  authors,  stationers  obey'd  the  call ;  ^  15 

The  field  of  glory  is  a  field  for  all ; 
Glory,  and  gain,  th'  industrious  tribe  provoke, 
And  gentle  Dulness  ever  loves  a  joke. 
A  Poet's  Form  she  sets  before  their  eyes, 

And  bids  the  nimblest  racer  seize  the  prize.  20 

No  meagre,  muse-rid  mope,  adust  and  thin. 
In  a  dun  night-gown  of  his  own  loose  skin  ;  * 
But  such  a  bulk  as  no  twelve  bards  could  raise, 
Twelve  starving^  bards  of  these  degenerate  days. 
All  as  a  partridge  plump,  full-fed,  and  fair,  25 

*  In  the  MS. :  "  She  summons  all  her  sons."  The  Laureat  band,  and  breathe  poetic  vows. 

In  the  edition  of  1729  the  opening  lines  ran:  With  kingly  joy  he  hears  their  loyal  lies      1 

**  High  on  a  gorgeous  seat  that  far  outshone  With  kingly  pride  the  general  joy  he  spies  f 

Henley's  gilt  tub,  or  Fleckno's  Irish  throne,  And  sees  his  subjects'  transport  in  their  eyes. 

Or  that  where  on  her  Curlls  the  Public  pours  His  strut,  his  grin,  and  his  dead  stare  they  praise, 

All    bounteous,    fragrant    grains    and    golden  And  gaping  crowds  grow  foolish  as  they  gaze." 

showers,  It  will  be  observed  that  the  name  of  the  mon- 

Great    Tibbald    nods:    The  proud    Parnassian  arch  is  left  blank  in  the  MS.,  as  if  this  part  of 

sneer,  the  poem  had  been  written  before  the  first  book, 

The  conscious  simper  and  the  jealous  leer,  and  before  the  poet  had  fixed  on  any  particular 

Mix  on  his  look.     All  eyes  direct  their  rays  hero.     On  this  point  see  Introduction. 
On  him,  and  crowds  grow  foolish  as  they  gaze."         ^  \^  tj^e  MS. : 

2  After  this  verse  in  the  MS. :  "  Ev'n  booksellers  obeyed  the  Hawker's  call." 
'*  Ranked  side  by  side  the  Patron  and  the  Scrub,         *  These  four  lines  in  the  MS.  run: 

Each  Quarles  his  Benlowes,  and  each  Tibbald  "  To  these  in  sport  she  first  proposed  the  prize 

B "  And  raised  a  poet's  phantom  in  their  eyes; 

For  which  couplet  see  note  to  v.  250  of  Epis-  Not  such  as  garrets  lodge,  of  visage  thin, 

tie  to  Arbuthnot.     Then  follow  these  lines :  Who   like  a  night-gown   round  him  wraps  his 
"  High  on  a  bed  of  state  that  far  outshone  skin." 

Flecno's  proud  seat,  or  Querno's  nobler  throne  ^  In  the  MS.  and  edition  of  1729:    "  Starve- 
Exalted  sat:  around  him  bows  ling." 


APPENDIX,  5SI 

She  form'd  this  image  of  well-bodied  air, 

With  pert  flat  eyes  she  window'd  well  its  head,^ 

A  brain  of  feathers,  and  a  heart  of  lead. 

And  empty  words' she  gave,  and  sounding  strain ;  * 

But  senseless,  lifeless!  Idol  Void  and  vain!  30 

Never  was  dasht  out,  at  one  lucky  hit, 

A  fool,  so  just  a  copy  of  a  wit  ; 

So  like,  that  criticks  said  and  courtiers  swore, 

A  wit  it  was,  and  calPd  the  phantom,  M — . 

All  gaze  with  ardour ;  some,  a  Poet's  name,  35 

Others,  a  sword-knot  and  lac'd  suit  inflame : 
But  lofty  L — 1 3  in  the  circle  rose ; 
"  This  prize  is  mine  ;  who  tempt  it,  are  my  foes : 
"  With  me  began  this  genius,  and  shall  end : " 
He  spoke,  and  who  with  Z — /*  shall  contend  ?  40 

Fear  held  them  mute.    Alone,  untaught  to  fear, 
Stood  dauntless  C — /.     "  Behold  that  rival  here! 
"  The  race  by  vigor,  not  by  vaunts  is  won ; 
"  So  tajce  the  hindmost.  Hell."  —  He  said,  and  run. 
Swift  as  a  bard  the  bailiff  leaves  behind,  45 

He  left  huge  L — /,5  and  out-stript  the  wind. 
As  when  a  dab-chick  waddles  thro'  the  copse, 
On  legs  and  wings,  and  flies,  and  wades,  and  hops; 
So  lab'ring  on,  with  shoulders,  hands,  and  head, 
Wide  as  a  windmill  all  his  figure  spread,  50 

With  steps  unequal  L — /  urg'd  the  race, 
And  seem'd  to  emulate  great  Jacobus  pace.^ 
Full  in  the  middle  way  there  stood  a  lake, 
Which  CI — 'j  Corinna  chanc'd  that  morn  to  make, 
(Such  was  her  wont,  at  early  dawn  to  drop  55 

Her  evening  cates  before  his  neighbour's  shop,) 
Here  fortun'd  C — /  to  slide :  loud  shout  the  band,^ 
And  L—t,  L—t,^  rings  thro'  all  the  Strand. 
Obscene  with  filth  the  varlet  lies  bewray'd, 
Fal'n  in  the  plash  his  wickedness  had  lay'd :  60 

Then  first  (if  Poets  aught  of  truth  declare) 
The  caitiff  Vaticide  conceiv'd  a  prayer. 

1  In  the  MS.:  sin  the  MS.:  "  Awful  Tryphon." 
"  With  laughing  eyes  that  twinkled  in  his  head,         4  j    ^    -jyrc  .  j  *'  Tryphon, 
Well-looked,  well-turned,  well-natured  and  well-  '  \  Tonson." 

fed,  fi  In  the  MS. :  "  Fat  Tonson." 

So  wondrous  like  that  Wotton's  self  might  say,  «  In  the  MS. : 

And  Kent  would  swear,  by  G — d,  it  must  be  "  With  arms  expanded  Tryphon  rows  his  state, 

Gay."  And  left-legged  Jacob  seems  to  emulate." 

2  The  next  eight  lines  are  not  in  the  MS.,  an-  This  shows  that  by  Tryphon  he  meant  the 
other  indication  that  this  part  of  the  poem  was  younger  Tonson. 

composed    before    the    Dunciad  in  its   present         ''In  the  MS.: 

form  was  designed.     The  passage  in  the  MS.  **  Here  sliddered  Curll :  loud  shout  the  laughing 

was  clearly  not  intended   to  apply  to   James  band." 

Moore.  8  jn  th?  MS.;  "Jacob,  Jacob." 


SS2  APPENDIX, 

Hear  Jove !  whose  name  my  bards  and  I  adore, 
As  much  at  least  as  any  Gods,  or  more ; 

And  him  and  his,  if  more  devotion  warms,  65 

Down  with  the  ^  Bible,  up  with  the  ^  Pope's  Armsfi 

*  A  place  there  is,  betwixt  earth,  air  and  seas, 
Where  from  Ajnbrosia,  Jove  retires  for  ease.^ 
There  in  his  seat  two  spacious  Vents  appear, 
On  this  he  sits,  to  that  he  leans  his  ear,  70 

There  hears  the  various  vows  of  fond  mankind, 
Some  beg  an  eastern,  some  a  western  wind :  ^ 
All  vain  petitions,  sent  by  winds  on  high, 
With  reams  abundant  this  abode  supply ; 

Amus'd  he  reads,  and  then  returns  the  bills  75 

Sign'd  with  that  Ichor  which  from  Gods  distills.' 

In  office  here  fair  ^  Cloacina  stands. 
And  ministers  to  Jove  with  purest  hands ; 
Forth  from  the  heap  she  pickM  her  vof  ry's  pray'r, 
And  plac'd  it  next  him,  a  distinction  rare !  80 

Oft,  as  he  fishM  her  nether  realms  for  wit, 
The  Goddess  favoured  him,  and  favours  yet. 
Renewed  by  ordure's  sympathetic  force, 
As  oiPd  with  magic  juices  for  the  course, 

Vigorous  he  rises  ;  from  th'  effluvia  strong  85 

Imbibes  new  life,  and  scours  and  stinks  along. 
Re-passes  L — t^  vindicates  the  race. 
Nor  heeds  the  brown  dishonours  of  his  face. 

And  now  the  victor  stretched  his  eager  hand,^° 
Where  the  tall  Nothing  stood,  or  seemM  to  stand ;  90 

A  shapeless  shade,  it  melted  from  his  sight. 
Like  forms  in  clouds,  or  visions  of  the  night !  ^^ 

1  The  Bible  C Vs  sign.  —  Pope.  Wipes  that  rich  ichor  which  a  God  distills." 

«  The  Cross-keys  L /'j.  —  Popb.  8  in  the  MS. :  "  Black." 

3  In  the  MS.:  »  In  the  MS.:  **  Tonson." 

**  In  him  and  his  if  greater  grace  abound,  ^o  jn  the  MS.  there  is  the  following  variation 

Then  let  mine  host  of  Shakespeare's  Head  be  of  this  passage. : 

crowned."  "  How  Jove  still  just,  defeats  man's  erring  aim ! 

In  a  note,   **  Shakespear's  Head,  Tonson's  How  Hope    deludes,  how   Fortune   shifts  the 

sign."  game! 

*  See  Luctan's  Icaro-Menippus,  —  Pope.  As  Curll  rapacious  spreads  his  eager  hand 

5  In  the  MS.:  And  the  plump  phantom  stands,  or  seems  to 
"  Called  by  the  Gods  the  Thunderer's  House  of  stand. 

Ease."  His  frustrate  arms  the  impassive  air  confess, 

6  In  the  MS. :  All  of  the  idol  vanished  but  the  dress. 
"  There  lists  delighted  to  the  jests  unclean  Unhappy  stationer!  his  author  gone, 
Of  link-boys  vile  and  watermen  obscene."  He  grasps  an  empty  Joseph  for  a  John." 
This  couplet  first  appears  in  print  in  the  edi-        ^^  In  the  MS.: 

tion  of  1743.  **  The  impassive  form  from  his  embraces  flies 

7  In  the  MS.:  And  melts  to  air:   loud  laughter   shakes  the 
**  Then  with  Mist's  Journals  and  with  Tanner's  skies." 

Bills 


APPENDIX.  553 

Baffled,  yet  present  ev'n  amidst  despair, 

To  seize  his  papers,  C — /,  was  next  thy  care ; 

His  papers  all,  the  sportive  winds  up-lift,^  95 

And  whisk  'em  back  to  G — ,  to  K— ,  to  6" — .2 

Th'  embroiderd  suit,  at  least,  he  deem'd  his  prey ; 

That  suit,  an  unpay'd  Taylor  snatched  away! 

No  rag,  no  scrap,  of  all  the  beau,  or  wit, 

That  once  so  flutter'd,  and  that  once  so  writ.  lOO 

Heav'n  rings  with  laughter :  Of  the  laughter  vain,* 
Dulness,  good  Queen,  repeats  the  jest  again. 
Three  wicked  imps  of  her  own  Grubstreet  Choir 
She  decked  like  Congreve,  Addison,  and  Prior ; 
Mears,  Warner,  IVilkins  run:  Delusive  thought!  105 

*  *  *  *,  and  *  *,*  the  wretches  caught. 
C — /  stretches  after  Gay,  but  Gay  is  gone, 
He  grasps  an  empty  ^  Joseph  for  a  John. 
So  Proteus,  hunted  in  a  nobler  shape, 
Became,  when  seiz'd,  a  Puppy  or  an  Ape.  1 10 

To  him  the  Goddess.     Son,  thy  grief  lay  down, 
And  turn  this  whole  illusion  on  the  town. 
As  the  sage  dame  experienc'd  in  her  trade. 
By  names  of  Toasts  retails  each  batter'd  jade, 
(Whence  hapless  Monsieur  much  complains  at  Paris  1 15 

Of  wrongs  from  Duchesses  and  Lady  Marys) 
Be  thine,  my  stationer!  this  magic  gift ; 
C —  shall  be  Prior,  and  C — n.  Swift ; 
So  shall  each  hostile  name  become  our  own. 
And  we  too  boast  our  Garth  and  Addison.  120 

With  that  the  Goddess  (piteous  of  his  case,* 
Yet  smiling  at  his  ruful  length  of  face) 
Gives  him  a  cov'Ving,  worthy  to  be  spread 
On  Codrus''  old,  or  *  *  's  "^  modern  bed ; 

Instructive  work!  whose  wry-mouth'd  portraiture  125 

Displayed  the  fates  her  confessors  endure.^ 

1  In  the  MS.:  The  same  their  voice,  their  mien,  and  their 
*'  Songs,  sonnets,  epigrams  the  winds  uplift."  attire." 

2  In  the  MS. :  "  To  Evans  and  to  S "  *  In  1729  and  1736,  "  Breval,  Besaleel,  Bond." 

3  In  the  MS.  there  was  the  following  variation :  In  1743,  **  Breval,  Bond,  Besaleel." 

♦*  Pleased  at  her  wit,  and  of  applauses  vain,  ^  Joseph  Gay,  a  fictitious  name  put  by  C / 

Dulness,  good  Queen !  repeats  the  jest  again,  before  several  Pamphlets.  —  Pope. 

Another  Poet  and  another  rise,  «  The  edition  of  1729  gives  the  reading  of  the 

Curll  not  discouraged  at  each  quarry  flies."  existing  text. 

For  this  last  couplet  he  substituted:  ^  In  the  MS. :   **  Durfey*s."    The  edition  of 

**  Forthwith  she  dressed  like  Addison  and  Prior,  1729  first  reads  '*  Dunton's." 
Two  wicked  imps  of  her  own  Grub  Street  choir."        ®  In  the  MS. : 

Or,  "  There  Dulness  traced  in  wry-mouthed  por- 
**A  wicked  sprite  she  dressed  like  Pope  and  traiture. 

Prior,  The  fates  her  martyrs  militant  endure." 


554  APPENDIX, 

Ear-less  ^  on  high,  stood  pillory'd  D ^ 

And  T flagrant  from  the  lash,  below : 

There  kick'd  and  cudgePd  R —  might  ye  view, 

The  very  worstead  still  lookM  black  and  blue :  I30 

Himself  among  the  storied  chiefs  he  spies, 

As  from  the  blanket  high  in  air  he  flies. 

And  oh!  (he  cry'd)  what  street,  what  lane  but  knows 

Our  purgings,  pumpings,  blanketings  and  blows? 

In  evVy  loom  our  labors  shall  be  seen,  I35 

And  the  fresh  vomit  run  for  ever  green! 

See  in  the  circle  next,  Eliza  plac'd ; 
Two  babes  of  love  close  clinging  to  her  waist ; 
Fair  as  before  her  works  she  stands  confessed 
In  flowVd  brocade  by  bounteous  Kirkall  dress'd,  I40 

Pearls  on  her  neck,  and  roses  in  her  hair, 
And  her  fore-buttocks  to  the  navel  bare. 
The  Goddess  then :  "Who  best  can  send  on  high 
"  The  salient  spout,  fair-streaming  to  the  sky ; 
"  His  be  yon  Juno  of  majestic  size,  145 

*'  With  cow-like  udders,  and  with  ox-like  eyes. 
"  This  China-] Qxdidiiv^  let  the  chief  o'ercome 
"  Replenish,  not  ingloriously,  at  home." 

Ch d^  and  C /accept  this  glorious  strife, 

(Tho'  one  his  Son  dissuades,  and  one  his  Wife)  1 50 

This  on  his  manly  confidence  relies. 
That  on  his  vigor  and  superior  size. 

First  C d  lean'd  against  his  lettered  post ; 

It  rose,  and  labor'd  to  a  curve  *  at  most : 

So  Jove's  bright  bow  displays  its  wat'ry  round,  I55 

(Sure  sign,  that  no  spectator  shall  be  drown'd) 

A  second  effort  brought  but  new  disgrace. 

For  straining  more,  it  flies  in  his  own  face ;  ^ 

Thus  the  small  jett  which  hasty  hands  unlock, 

Spirts  in  the  gard'ner^s  eyes  who  turns  the  cock.  160 

Not  so  from  shameless  C /;  Impetuous  spread 

The  stream,  and  smoaking,  flourished  o'er  his  head. 

So,  (fam'd  like  thee  for  turbulence  and  horns,) 

Eridanus  his  humble  fountain  scorns, 

Thro^  half  the  heav'ns  he  pours  th'  exalted  urn ;  165 

His  rapid  waters  in  their  passage  burn. 

1  In  the  MS.:  "Dauntless."  sin  the  edition  of  1729,  "Chetwood";    in 

2  In  a  MS.  note  to  this  line  Pope  uays  :  **  Dan-   1735  and  1736,  "  Chapman  ";    in  1743,   "  Os- 
iel  Defoe  stood  in  the  pillory  for  certain  papers  borne." 

called  the  Reviews.     He  thereupon,  no  whit        ^  In  the  MS.;  "Anarch." 

abashed,  published  A  Hymn  to  the  Pillory,  a        ^  In  the  MS. : 

Pindaric  Ode.    It  appears  from  hence  that  this  "  The  wild  maeander  washed  the  artist's  face." 

poem  was  writ  before  Mr.  Curll  himself  stood  in        This  line  of  the  MS.  was  inserted  in  the  text 

the  pillory,  which  happened  not  till  February,  in  the  edition  of  1736. 

1727-8."  —  Pope. 


APPENDIX, 


$55 


Swift  as  it  mounts,  all  follow  with  their  eyes ; 
Still  happy,  Impudence  obtains  the  prize. 
Thou  triumph'st,  Victor  of  the  high-wrought  ^  day 
And  the  pleas'd  dame  soft-smiling  leads  ^  away.  170 

Ch d^  through  perfect  modesty  overcome, 

Crown'd  with  the  Jordan,  walks  contented  home. 

But  now  for  Authors  nobler  palms  ^  remain : 
Room  for  my  Lord!  three  Jockeys*  in  his  train; 
Six  huntsmen  with  a  shout  precede  his  chair ;  175 

He  grins,  and  looks  broad  nonsense  with  a  stare.^ 
His  honoured®  meaning,  Dulness  thus  exprest. 
"  He  wins  this  Patron  who  can  tickle  best." 

He  chinks  his  purse,  and  takes  his  seat  of  state, 
With  ready  quills  the  Dedicators  "^  wait,  180 

Now  at  his  head  the  dext'rous  task  commence, 
And  instant,  fancy  feels  th'  imputed  sense ;  ^ 
Now  gentle  touches  wanton  o'er  his  face, 
He  struts  Adonis^  and  affects  grimace : 

R the  feather  to  his  ear  conveys,  185 

Then  his  nice  taste  directs  our  Operas : ' 
*  *  his  mouth  with  Classic  flatt'ry  opes,^^ 
And  the  puft  Orator  bursts  out  in  tropes. 

But  O the  Poefs  healing  balm  ^^ 

Strives  to  extract  from  his  soft,  giving  palm ;  loO 

Unlucky  O .'  thy  lordly  master  ^"^ 

The  more  thou  ticklest,  gripes  his  fist  the  faster. 

While  thus  each  hand  promotes  the  pleasing  pain. 
And  quick  sensations  skip  from  vein  to  vein, 
A  youth  unknown  to  Phoebus^  in  despair,  I05 

Puts  his  last  refuge  all  in  Heav'n  in  Pray'r. 
What  force  have  pious  vows  ?  the  Queen  of  Love 

1  In  the  MS.:  "Wellp — t."  **His  mouth  now  Bentley's  kind  instruction 

*  In  the  MS. :  "  Moves."  opes." 

*  In  the  MS.:  "  Tasks."  In  1729  Welsted's  name  was  inserted  in  the 

*  In  the  MS. :  **  Six  huntsmen.'*  place  of  the  asterisks.     In  1736  "  Welsted  "  was 
5  In  the  MS. :  replaced  by  **  Bentley." 

"  In  the  blue  string  a  jockey  leads  the  Bear,  "  In  the  MS. :   "  Oldmixon,"  and  so  in  edi- 

Who  silent  looks  broad  nonsense  with  a  stare."  tion  of  1729.     In  the  edition  of  1736: 

«  In  the  MS  •    -!  "  Worship's,  "  But  Welsted  most  the  poet's  healing  balm." 

I  Secret."  There  is  also  another  variation  in  the  MS. 

7  In  the  MS.:  "  Listening  authors."  which  helps  to  explain  the  passage  that  follows, 

*  In  the  MS. :  about  "  the  youth  unknown  to  Phoebus  ": 

"  Tindal  and  Gordon  at  his  head  commence,  "  Concanen  from  his  soft  and  giving  palm 

The    quickening    numskull    feels    the    fancied  Strives  to  extract  the  poet's  healing  balm. 

sense."  A  nicer  part  sly  W r  chose  to  probe,"  &c. 

9  In  the  MS.:  12  In  the  MS.: 

"  He  turns  subscriber  to  all  Operas."  **  Unhappy  Oldmixon,  thy  lord  and  master." 

10  In  the  MS.:  In  1736: 

"  Bentley    his    mouth    with     classic     flattery  "  Unlucky  Welsted,  thy  unfeeling  master." 
opes." 


«56  APPENDIX, 

His  Sister  sends,  her  vot'ress,  from  above. 

As  taught  by  Vemis,  Paris  learnt  the  art 

To  touch  Achilles''  only  tender  part,^  200 

Secure,  thro'  her,'^  the  noble  prize  to  carry, 

He  marches  off,  his  Grace's  Secretary. 

Now  turn  to  different  sports  (the  Goddess  cries) 
And  learn,  my  sons,  the  wond'rous  pow'r  of  Noise, 
To  move,  to  raise,  to  ravish  ev'ry  heart,  205 

With  Shakespear'^s  nature,  or  with  Johnson's  art, 
Let  others  aim :  'T  is  yours  to  shake  the  soul 
With  Thunder  rumbling  from  the  mustard-bo wl,^ 
With  horns  and  trumpets  now  to  madness  swell, 
Now  sink  in  sorrows  with  a  tolling  Bell.  210 

Such  happy  arts  attention  can  command. 
When  fancy  flags,  and  sense  is  at  a  stand : 
Improve  we  these>    Three  Cat-calls  be  the  bribe 
Of  him,  whose  chatt'ring  shames  the  Monkey  tribe ; 
And  his  this  Drii?n,  whose  hoarse  heroic  base  215 

Drowns  the  loud  Clarion  of  the  braying  Ass. 

Now  thousand  tongues  are  heard  in  one  loud  din, 
The  Monkey-mimicks  rush  discordant  in  ;  ^ 
'T  was  chatt'ring,  grinning,  mouthing,  jabb'ring  all, 

And  R ,  and  railing,  Brangling,  and  B ,^  220 

D s  and  Dissonance ;  "^  And  captious  art, 

And  snip-snap  short,  and  interruption  smart. 

Hold  (cry'd  the  Queen)  ye  all  alike  shall  win, 

Equal  your  merits,  equal  is  your  din ; 

But  that  this  well-disputed  game  may  end,  225 

Sound  forth  my  Brayers,  and  the  welkin  rend. 

As  when  the  long-ear'd,  milky  mothers  wait  ^ 
At  some  sick  miser's  triple-bolted  gate,^ 
For  their  '^^  defrauded,  absent  foals  they  make  " 

1  In  the  MS. :  "  Try  then  new  arts  whose  feebly  plaining  lines, 
**  So  great  Achilles!  Paris  learnt  the  art  Match  the  thin  music  of  the  cat  who  whines:" 
To  touch  thy  only  penetrable  part."  &c. 

2  In  the  MS. :  "  By  Venus  taught."  «  In  the  MS. : 

3  In  the  MS.  the  above  passage  runs:  **  Welstead  and  Wickstead  at  each  other  grin." 
"  For  noise  and  nonsense  next  behold  the  prize,         ^  In  the  MS. : 

Whose  voice  stentorian  loudest  shakes  the  skies;  **  Welsted  at  Wickstead,  Budgell  at  Breval." 

Who  fails  to  ravish  or  command  the  heart  In  1729: 

With  Shakespeare's  nature,  or  with  Jonson's  art,  **  And     Noise     and     Norton,     Brangling     and 

Shall  wake  the  sense  and  terrify  the  soul  Breval." 

With  rolling  thunder  I  f^^^jl^^^^gj^^j_l,^^l.,  '  in   the  MS.:    "And  loud-tongued  Disso- 

thunders  rattling  )  nance. 

*  In  the  MS.  the  next  four  lines  are:  8  In  the  MS. :  "  Mother  milked  before." 

**  Now  try  we  first  who  cat-like  growl  and  whine,  ^  In  the  MS. : 

The  next  who  chattering  match  the  monkey  line.  "  The  gouty  miser's  triple-bolted  door." 

Who  emulates  an  owl  shall  these  surpass,  "^^  In  the  MS. :  *'  her." 

But  he  the  chief  whose  braying  shames  an  ass."  ^^  In  the  MS. :  **  foal  she  makes." 
Or. 


APPENDIX.  557 

A  moan  ^  so  loud,  that  all  the  Guild  awake :  ^  230 

So  sighs  Sir  G /,  starting  at  the  bray 

From  dreams  of  millions,  and  three  groats  ^  to  pay. 

So  swells  each  Windpipe ;  *  Ass  intones  to  Ass, 

Harmonic  twang!  ^  of  leather,  horn,  and  brass  : 

Such  as  from  laboring  ^  lungs  th'  Enthusiast  blows,  235 

High  sounds,  attempted  to  the  vocal  nose. 

But  far  o'er  all  sonorous  Bl — V  strain. 

Walls,  steeples,  skies,  bray  back  to  him  again : 

In  Tofnham'^  fields,  the  brethren ^  with  amaze 

Prick  all  their  ears  up,  and  forget  to  graze ;  ^  240 

Long  Chancery-lane  retentive  rolls  the  sound, 

And  courts  to  courts  return  it  round  and  round ; 

Thames  wafts  it  thence  to  Rufus"^  roaring  hall, 

And  H d  re-echoes,  bawl  for  bawl. 

All  hail  him  victor  in  both  gifts  of  Song,  245 

Who  sings  so  loudly^  and  who  sings  so  long^^ 

This  labor  past,  by  Bridewell  all  descend, 
(As  morning  ^1  pray'r  and  flagellation  end). 
To  where  Fleetditch  with  disemboguing  streams 
Rolls  the  large  tribute  of  dead  dogs  to  Thames ,  250 

The  king  of  Dykes !  than  whom,  no  sluice  of  mud 
With  deeper  sable  blots  the  silver  flood. 

*  Here  strip,  my  children!  here  at  once  leap  in! 

<  Here  prove  who  best  can  dash  thro'  thick  and  thin, 

*  And  who  the  most  in  love  of  dirt  excel,  255 
*0r  dark  dexterity  of  groping  well.^^ 

*  Who  flings  most  mud,  and  wide  pollutes  around 

*  The  stream,  be  his  the  *  *  *  is  Journals,  bound. 

*  A  pig  of  lead  to  him  who  dives  the  best ; 

*  A  peck  of  coals  a-piece  shall  glad  the  rest.'  260 

In  naked  majesty  great  D ^^  stands. 

And  y)///^-like,  surveys  his  arms  and  hands : 

Then  sighing,  thus.     "And  am  I  now  threescore? 

"  Ah  why,  ye  Gods!  should  two  and  two  make  four? " 

He  said,  and  climb'd  a  stranded  Lighter's  height,  265 

"  Confessed  supreme  in  both  the  powers  of  song, 
None  sings  so  loudly,  and  none  sings  so  long." 
Or: 

"  And  *  Blackmore,  Blackmore/  shouts  the  ap- 
plauding throng, 
Who  sings  so  loudly,  and  who  sings  so  long.** 

11  In  the  MS. :  **  Evening."' 

12  In  the  MS.: 
**  And  whose  the  alacrity  of  sinking  well." 

"  In  the  MS. :    \  '*  J!^  ^^f"^?";. 
I  All  Hoadley's." 

1*  In  the  MS. :   **  Great  Dennis";   and  so  in 

the  edition  of  1729.     In  1736:  "  Oldmixon." 


1  In  the  MS. 

"cry." 

a  In  the  MS. 

**  awakes." 

s  In  the  MS. 
4  In  the  MS. 

**  a  groat." 

"  such  chatter  rises." 

6  In  the  MS 
«  In  the  MS. 
T  In  the  MS. 

"  Dry  sound  that  twangs." 
•*  groaning." 
"  TothiU." 

8  In  the  MS. 

"  asses." 

9  In  the  MS. 

Prick  all  their 

ears,  and  wondering  cease  to 

graze." 
10  In  the  MS. 

558  APPENDIX. 

Shot  to  the  black  abyss,  and  plung'd  down-right. 
The  senior^s  judgment  all  the  crowd  admire, 
Who  but  to  sink  the  deeper,  rose  the  higher. 

Next  E —  1  div'd ;  slow  circles  dimpled  o'er 
The  quaking  mud,  that  clos'd  and  op'd  no  more :  *  270 

All  look,  all  sigh,  and  call  on  E —  lost ; 
E in  vain  resounds  thro'  all  the  coast. 

//■—  try'd  the  next,^  but  hardly  snatch'd  from  sight, 
Instant  buoys  up,  and  rises  into  hght ; 

He  bears  no  token  of  the  sabler  streams,  275 

And  mounts  far  off,  among  the  swans  of  Thames, 

Far  worse  unhappy  D r  *  succeeds. 

He  search'd  for  coral,  but  he  gather'd  weeds. 

True  to  the  bottom  *  *  *  and  *  *  *  creep,^ 
Long-winded  both,  as  natives  of  the  deep,  280 

This  only  merit  pleading  for  the  prize, ^ 
Nor  everlasting  Bl —  this  denies.^ 

But  nimbler  W d  reaches  at  the  ground,^ 

Circles  in  mud,  and  darkness  all  around, 

No  crab  more  active,  in  the  dirty  dance,  285 

Downward  to  climb,  and  backward  to  advance ; 

He  brings  up  half  the  bottom  on  his  head. 

And  boldly  claims  the  yournals  ^  and  the  Lead, 

Sudden,  a  burst  of  thunder  shook  the  flood, 
Lo  E —  ^°  rose,  tremendous  all  in  mud ! "  290 

Shaking  the  horrors  of  his  sable  brows. 
And  each  ferocious  feature  grim  with  ooze. 
Greater  he  looks,  and  more  than  mortal  stares ; 
Then  thus  the  wonders  of  the  deep  declares. 

First  he  relates,  how  sinking  to  the  chin,  295 

Smit  with  his  mien,  the  Mtidnymphs  suck'd  him  in, 
How  young  Lutetia  softer  than  the  down, 

^  In  the  MS. :  "  Eusden."  In  the  edition  of         ^  In  the  edition  of  1729  this  and  the  next  three 
1729:  "  Smedley."  lines  run: 

2  In  the  MS. :  **  Not  Welsted  so:  drawn  endlong  by  his  skull, 
''  Just  where  he  sunk  that  closing    oped    no   Furious  he  sinks,  precipitately  dull. 

more."  Whirlpools  and  storms  his  circling  arms  invest 

3  In  the  edition  of  1729:  "Then   *   *   tried."   With  all  the  might  of  gravitation  blest." 

In  1735:    "Then  P  *  *  essayed."      In   1736:         In    1735    the    opening  of   the    passage  was 
"  Then  *  essayed."  altered  to:  **  Not  so  bold  Arnall." 

4  In  the  MS. :  "  Diaper."  9  In  the  MS. :  "  H— d— y." 

B  In  the  MS. :  "  Roome  and  Whatley."  1°  In  the  MS.:  "  Dennis."    In  the  edition  of 

In  1729:  "  See  Concanen  creep."  1729:  "  Smedley." 

6  In  edition  of  1729:  11  In  the  edition  of  1729:    "In  majesty  of 

"  If  perseverance  gain  the  Diver's  prize."  mud." 
'  In  the  MS. :  "  Blackmore." 


APPENDIX,  559 

Nigrina  black,  and  Merdamante  brown, 

Vy'd  for  his  love  in  jetty  bow'rs  below ; 

As  Hylas  fair  was  ravished  long  ago.  300 

Then  sung  how,  shown  him  by  the  nutbrown  maids, 

A  branch  of  Styx  here  rises  from  the  Shades j 

That  tinctured  as  it  runs  with  Lethe's  streams. 

And  wafting  vapors  from  the  Land  of  Dreams, 

(As  under  seas  Alphceus"*  sacred  sluice  ^  305 

Bears  Pisa'^s  offerings  to  his  Arethuse) 

Pours  into  Thames :  Each  City-bowl  is  full 

Of  the  mixt  wave,  and  all  who  drink  grow  dull. 

How  to  the  banks  where  bards  departed  doze, 

They  led  him  soft ;  how  all  the  bards  arose ;  310 

Taylor,  sweet  bird  of  Thames,  majestic  bows, 

And  Sh —  nods  the  poppy  ^  on  his  brows ; 

While  M—n  there,  deputed  by  the  rest,  * 

Gave  him  the  cassock,  surcingle,  and  vest ; 

And  '^Take  (he  said)  these  robes  which  once  were  mine,     315 

"  Dulness  is  sacred  in  a  sound  Divine." 

He  ceas'd,  and  show'd  the  robe ;  the  crowd  confess 
The  rev'rend  Flamen  in  his  lengthen'd  dress. 
Slow  mov'd  the  Goddess  from  the  silver  fiood,^ 
(Her  Priest  preceding)  thro'  the  gates  of  Lud.  320 

Her  Criticks  there  she  summons,  and  proclaims 
A  gentler  exercise  to  close  the  games. 

Hear  you !  in  whose  grave  heads,^  as  equal  scales, 
I  weigh  what  author's  heaviness  prevails, 

Which  most  conduce  to  sooth  the  soul  in  slumbers,**  325 

My  H—^s  ^  periods,  or  my  Bl — V  "^  numbers  1 
Attend  the  trial  we  propose  to  make : 
If  there  be  man  who  o'er  such  works  can  wake, 
Sleep's  all-subduing  pow'r  who  dares  defy, 
And  boasts  Ulysses"^  ear  with  Argus''  eye ;  ^  330 

To  him  we  grant  our  amplest  pow'rs  to  sit 
Judge  of  all  present,  past,  and  future  wit, 
To  cavil,  censure,  dictate,  right  or  wrong, 
Full,  and  eternal  privilege  of  tongue. 

1  In  the  MS. :  7  in  the  MS. :  "  Blackmore.** 
**  As  Alpheus  under  seas  by  secret  sluice."  «  After  ver.  328  in  the  MS. : 

2  In  the  MS. :  **  Poppies."  "  His  be  the  license  which  shall  ever  last 
8  In  the  MS.  this  and  the  three  next  lines  run:  On  all  my  authors,  present,  future,  past. 

"  This  done,  the  goddess  from  the  sable  flood  Yet,  not  to  drive  well-willers  to  despair, 

Moves  to  her  quarters  in  the  walls  of  Lud.  Who  haply  slumber  some  reward  shall  share. 

The  tribes  pursue,  and  now,  to  close  the  games,  To  him  who  nodding  steals  a  transient  nap, 

A  gentler  exercise  the  Queen  proclaims."  We  give  Tate's  Ovid,  and  thy  Virgil,  Trap. 

*  In  the  MS. :  Unable  heads,  that  sleep  and  wake  by  fits, 

"  My  critics!  in  who.se  heads."  Win  Steel  well  sifted  from  all  alien  wits. 

*  In  the  MS. :  "  To  indolence  and  slumbers."       Nay,  who  successless  quite  but  gape  and  wish, 
8  In  the  MS. :  **  Hoadley."  Shall  gain  the  whole  Poetic  Art  of  Bysshe." 


56o  APPENDIX, 

Three  Cambridge  Sophs  and  three  pert  Templars  came,    335 
The  same  their  talents,  and  their  tastes  the  same ; 
Each  prompt  to  query,  answer,  and  debate, 
And  smit  with  love  of  poesie  and  prate. 
The  pond'rous  books  two  gentle  Readers  bring ; 
The  heroes  sit ;  the  vulgar  form  a  ring.^  340 

The  clamVous  crowd  is  hush'd  with  mugs  of  Mum, 
'Till  all  tun'd  equal,  send  a  general  hum. 
Then  mount  the  Clerks ;  and  in  one  lazy  tone,^ 
Thro'  the  long,  heavy,  painful  page,^  drawl  on, 
Soft  creeping  words  on  words  the  sense  ^  compose,  345 

At  ev'ry  line,  they  stretch,  they  yawn,  they  doze. 
As  to  soft  gales  top-heavy  pines  bow  low 
Their  heads,  and  lift  them  as  they  cease  to  blow, 
Thus  oft  they  rear,  and  oft  the  head  decline. 
As  breathe,  or  pause,  by  fits,  the  airs  divine,^  350 

And  now  to  this  side,  now  to  that,  they  nod, 
As  verse,  or  prose,  infuse  the  drowzy  God. 
Thrice  B — l^  aim'd  to  speak,  but  thrice  supprest 
By  potent  Arthur,  knock'd  his  chin  and  breast.'^ 
C—s  and  T—d,^  prompt  at  Priests  to  jeer,  355 

Yet  silent  bow'd  to  Chris fs  no  kingdom  here. 
Who  sate  the  nearest,  by  the  words  overcome 
Slept  first,  the  distant  nodded  to  the  hum. 
Then  down  are  rolPd  the  books  ;  stretch'd  o'er  'em  lies 
Each  gentle  clerk,  and  mutt'ring  seals  his  eyes.  360 

As  what  a  Dutchman  plumps  into  the  lakes,^ 
One  circle  first,  and  then  a  second  makes,^^ 
What  Dulness  dropt  among  her  sons  imprest 
Like  motion,  from  one  circle  to  the  rest ; 

So  from  the  mid-most  the  nutation  spreads  365 

Round,  and  more  round,  o'er  all  the  sea  of  heads. ^ 
At  last  C — re  ^^  felt  her  voice  to  fail. 
And  *  *  *  13  himself  unfinish'd  left  his  Tale. 
T—s  and  T—  the  church  and  state  gave  o'er, 
Nor  *  *  *  talk'd,  nor  S whisper'd  more.^*  370 

1  After  ver.  338  in  the  MS. :  "  Will  first  one  circle,  then  a  hundred  make." 
"And  first  a  Laureate  youth  in  gentlest  lays  ^^  In  the  MS.:    "A  waving  sea  of  heads," 
Preludes  a  lullaby  in  Brunswick's  praise."  And  after  this  verse  in  the  MS. : 

2  In  the  MS.:  *' In  one  low  equal  tone."  "Not  more,  when  winds  succeed  some  heavy 

3  In  the  MS.:  "Line."  rain, 

*  In  the  MS. :  "  Each  restless  sense."  Unnumbered  nod  the  poppies  on  the  plain." 
6  In  the  MS. :  "  In  the  MS. :  "  Centlivre." 

"  As  less  or  more  are  breathed  the  airs  divine."         i3  in  the  MS. :    "  Bruce."      In    edition   of 

6  In  the  MS.:  "  Budgell."  1729:     "Old   James."      In    1736:     "  Motteux 

7  After  ver.  352,  in  the  MS. :  himself" 

**  Next,  Philips  dropt,  and  Thule  left  half  sung;        "In  the  MS.:   "Travers  and  Trapp."    In 

Next,  Collins,  ceased  thy  turbulence  of  tongue."  edition  of  1729  : 

*  In  the  MS. :   "  Collins  and  Toland."     In  "  Boyer  the    State,  and  Law  the   Stage    gave 
1729:  "  Toland  and  Tindal."  o'er, 

^  In  the  MS. :  "  A  lake."  Nor  Motteux  talked,  nor  Naso  whispered  more." 

^0  In  the  MS. :  In  the  MS.  the  second  line  is: 


APPENDIX,  561 

Ev'n  N w,  gifted  with  his  mother's  tongue, 

Tho'  born  at  Wapping,  and  from  Daniel  sprung,^ 
Ceas'd  his  loud  bawling  breath,  and  dropt  the  head ;  ^ 
And  all  was  hush'd,  as  Folly'' s  self  lay  dead. 

Thus  the  soft  gifts  of  Sleep  conclude  the  day,  375 

And  stretch'd  on  bulks,  as  usual,  Poets  lay. 
Why  should  I  sing  what  bards  the  Nightly  Muse 
Did  slumb'ring  visit,  and  convey  to  stews  ? 
Or  prouder  march'd,  with  magistrates  in  state, 
To  some  fam'd  round-house,  ever  open  gate!  380 

How  E lay  inspired  beside  a  sink, 

And  to' mere  mortals  seem'd  a  Priest  in  drink? 
All  others  timely,  to  the  neighbouring  Fleet 
(Haunt  of  the  Muses)  made  their  safe  retreat. 

«  Nor  Kclsal  talked,  nor i  Y^^!^T  \  whispered  J°^^^  «d^^>«^  °1^^729: 

I  belkirk      )  Norton  from  Daniel  and  Ostraea  sprung, 

more."  Blest   with    his    father's    front,    and    mother's 

In  1736:  tongue." 

"  Nor  Kelsey  talked,  nor  Naso  whispered  more."  2  j^  the  MS. : 

In  1743:  **  Even  he  sat  mute:  on  critics  critics  spread." 

"  Morgan  and  Mandeville  could  prate  no  more."  In  edition  of  1729: 

1  In  the  MS. :  *'  Hang  silent  down  his  never-blushing  head." 
**  Norton  himself,  untired  in  foul  debate, 
Sprung  from  Defoe,  and  bom  at  Billingsgate." 
20 


END  OF  THE  SECOND  BOOK. 


5^2  APPENDIX. 

THE   DUNCIAD. 

BOOK  THE  THIRD. 

But  in  her  Temple's  last  recess  inclos'd, 

On  Dulness^  lap  th'  Anointed  head  repos'd.i 

Him  close  she  curtain'd  round  with  vapors  blue, 

And  soft  besprinkled  with  Cimmerian  dew.^ 

Then  Raptures  high  the  seat  of  sense  o'erflow,^  c 

Which  only  heads  refin'd  ^  from  reason  know : 

Hence  from  the  straw  where  Bedlam^s  Prophet  nods, 

He  hears  loud  ^  Oracles,  and  talks  with  Gods ; 

Hence  the  Fool's  paradise,  the  Statesman's  scheme. 

The  air-built  Castle,  and  the  golden  Dream,  lo 

The  Maid's  romantic  wish,^  the  Chymist's  flame 

And  Poet's  vision  of  eternal  fame. 

And  now,  on  Fancy's  easy  wing  convey'd,' 
The  King  ^  descended  to  th'  Elyzian  shade. 
There  in  a  dusky  vale  where  Lethe  rolls,  ic 

Old  Bavius  sits,  to  dip  poetic  souls. 
And  blunt  the  sense,  and  fit  it  for  a  skull  ^ 
Of  solid  proof,  impenetrably  dull. 
Instant  when  dipt,  away  they  wing  their  flight, 
Where  ^^  Brown  and  Mears  unbar  the  gates  of  Light,  20 

Demand  new  bodies,  and  in  Calf's  array 
Rush  to  the  world,  impatient  for  the  day. 
Millions  and  millions  on  these  banks  he  views, 
Thick  as  the  Stars  of  night,  or  morning  dews,^^ 
As  thick  as  bees  o'er  vernal  blossoms  fly,  25 

As  thick  as  eggs  at  W d  in  pillory. 

Wond'ring  he  gaz'd :  When  lo !  a  Sage  appears, 
By  his  broad  shoulders  known,  and  length  of  ears, 
Known  by  the  band  and  suit  which  Settle  wore, 
(His  only  suit)  for  twice  three  years  before.  30 

All  as  the  Vest,  appear'd  the  wearer's  frame, 

1  In  the  MS.:  8  in  the  MS.:  "  He  seems." 

**  But  in  the  Temple's  holiest  holy  spread,  *  In  the  MS.   this  and  the  next  five  lines 

On  Dulness'  lap  was  laid  the  anointed  head."  stand: 

2  In  MS. :  "  And  proof  to  sense,  impenetrably  dull, 
"  And  sprinkled  o'er  his  lids  Lethsean  dew."  With  Achillean  thickness  arm  the  skull. 

8  In  MS. :  Instant  away  they  scud,  just  shake  their  ears, 
*'0"er  all  his  brain  ecstatic  raptures  flow."         Knock  at  the  gate  of  Life  (which  Curll  and 

*InMS.:  "Well-purged."  Mears 

^  In  the  MS. :  **  high."  Let  wide  to  all),  assume  a  calf-skin  dress 

«  In  the  MS. :  "  The  maiden's  reverie."  Demanding  birth,  impatient  for  the  press." 

'  In  the  MS. :  "  Booksellers.  —  Pope. 

"  In  the  soft  arms  of  Sleep  and  Death  con-        ^^  In  the  MS. : 

veyed."  **  As  thick  as  stars,  as  thick  as  morning  dews." 


APPENDIX.  563 

Old  in  new  state,  another,  yet  the  same. 
Bland  and  familiar  as  in  life,  begun 
Thus  the  great  Father  to  the  greater  Son. 

Oh!  born  to  see  what  none  can  see  awake!  35 

Behold  the  wonders  of  th'  Oblivions  Lake, 
Thou,  yet  unborn,  hast  touch'd  this  sacred  shore, 
The  hand  of  Bavins  ^  drench'd  thee  o'er  and  o'er. 
But  blind  to  former,  as  to  future,  Fate^ 

What  mortal  knows  his ^  pre-existent  state?  40 

Who  knows  how  long,^  thy  transmigrating  soul 
Did  from  Boeotian  to  Boeotian  roll?^ 
How  many  Dutchmen  she  vouchsaf 'd  to  thrid  ? 
How  many  stages  thro'  old  Monks  she  rid? 
And  all  who  since,  in  mild  benighted  days,  45 

Mix'd  the  Owl's  ivy  with  the  Poet's  bays  ? 
As  Man's  maeanders  to  the  vital  spring 
Roll  all  their  tydes,  then  back  their  circles  bring ; 
Or  whirligigs,  twirl'd  round  by  skilful  swain, 
Suck  the  thread  in,  then  yield  it  out  again :  50 

All  nonsense  thus,  of  old  or  modern  date, 
Shall  in  thee  centre,  from  thee  circulate. 
For  this,  our  Queen  unfolds  ^  to  vision  true 
Thy  mental  eye,  for  thou  hast  much  to  view : 
Old  scenes  of  glory,  times  long  cast  behind,  55 

Shall  first  recall'd,  rush  forward  to  thy  mind ; 
Then  stretch  thy  sight  o'er  all  her  rising  reign, 
And  let  the  past  and  future  fire  thy  brain. ^ 

Ascend  this  hill,  whose  cloudy  point  commands 
Her  boundless"^  Empire  over  seas  and  lands.  60 

See  round  the  poles  where  keener  spangles  ^  shine. 
Where  spices  smoke  beneath  the  burning  Line, 

1  In  the  MS. :  "  The  sacred  Bavius."  Come  and  survey  the  wonders  of  the  place, 

There  is  also  the  following  variation  of  this  Survey  thy  progeny,  the  illustrious  throng, 

passage:  In  Nature's  order  as  they  move  along. 

"  These  arms  my  T — d  drenched  thee  o'er  and  Ascend  this  mount  from  whence  thy  eye  com- 

o'er,  mands,"  &c. 

I  made  thee  proof  to  all  the  points  of  sense,  2  in  the  MS. : 

Impenetrable  dulness  thy  defence.  "  Thou  know'st  not,  son,  thy." 

Know,  unremembering  of  thy  former  fate,  ^  In  the  MS. :  '*  Thou  know'st  not  how." 

What  dulness  graced  thy  pre-existent  state.  *  In  the  MS. : 

Thou  wert  Ap  Rice,  Van-Dunk,  and  numbers  "  Did  long  from  Dutchman  down  to  Dutchman 

more,  roll.'"' 

Who  Cambrian  leek  or  High-Dutch  laurel  wore.         ^  In  the  MS. :  *'  Has  purged." 
What  though  no  bees  around  thy  cradle  flew,  «  In  the  MS. : 

Nor  on  thy  lips  distilled  their  golden  dew,  "  Let  scenes  of  glory  past  inflame  thy  mind, 

Yet  have  I  oft in  their  stead  How  wide  her  empire  once  and  unconfined." 

A  swarm  of  drones  have  buzzed  about  thy  head  Or: 

When  you,  like  Orpheus,  strike  the  warbling  "Scenes  of  old  glory,  all  her  ancient  reign,  , 

lyre.  Shall,  thus  recalled,  rush  forward  on  thy  brain.** 
Attentive  blocks  stand  round  thee  and  admire.  '  In  the  MS. :  "  Spacious." 

Come  then  (for  Dulness  sure  accords  this  grace),        *  In  the  MS. :  **  Freezing  planets." 


564  APPENDIX, 

(Earth's  wide  extreams)  her  sable  flag  displayed ; 
And  all  the  nations  cover'd  in  ^  her  shade! 

Far  Eastward  cast  thy  eye,  from  whence  the  Sun  65 

And  orient  Science  at  a  birth  begun. 
One  man  immortal  all  that  pride  confounds, 
He,  whose  long  Wall  the  wandVing  Tartar  bounds.^ 

^Heav'ns!  what  a  pyle?  whole  ages  perish  there: 
And  one  bright  blaze  turns  Learning  into  air.  70 

Thence  to  the  South  as  far  extend  thy  eyes ; 
Their  rival  flames  with  equal  glory  rise, 
From  shelves  to  shelves  *  see  greedy  Vulcan  roll, 
And  lick  up  ^  all  their  Physick  of  the  SouL 

How  little,  see!  that  portion  of  the  ball,  75 

Where  faint  at  best  the  beams  of  science  fall! 
Against  her  throne,  from  Hyperborean  skies, 
In  dulness  strong,  th'  avenging  Vandals  rise ;  • 
Lo  where  Mceotis  sleeps,  and  hardly  flows 
The  freezing  "^  Tanais  thro'  a  waste  of  snows,  80 

The  North  by  myriads  ^  pours  her  mighty  sons, 
Great  nurse  of  Goths,  of  Alans,  and  of  Huns, 
See  Alaric'^s  stern  port,  the  martial  ^  frame 
Of  GenseriCy  and  Attila'^s  dread  name! 

See !  the  bold  Ostrogoths  on  Latiu?n  fall ;  85 

See !  the  fierce  Visigoths  on  Spain  and  GauL 
See!  where  the  morning  gilds  the  palmy  shore, 
(The  soil  that  arts  and  infant  letters  bore) 
His  conqVing  tribes  th'  Arabian  prophet  draws, 
And  saving  Ignorance  enthrones  by  Laws.  90 

See  Christians,  yews,  one  heavy  sabbath  keep, 
And  all  the  Western  World  believe  and  sleep. 

Lo  Ro?ne  herself,  proud  mistress  now  no  more 
Of  arts,  but  thund'ring  against  Heathen  lore ; 
Her  gray-hair'd  Synods  damning  books  unread,  95 

And  Bacon  trembling  for  his  brazen  Head. 
Lo  statues,  temples,  theatres  o'erturn'd. 
Oh  glorious  ruin!  and  *  *  *io  burn'd. 

1  In  the  MS. :  "  Safe  beneath."  moean  library,  on  the  gates  of  which  was  this 

2  In  the  MS, :  inscription,  Medicina  Animce.  — Pope. 
"That    early  dawn  which    sudden  night  sur-        ^  In  the  MS.:  "swallow." 

rounds."  sin  the  MS.: 

3  Ho-am-ti,  Emperor  of  China,  the  same  "  Southward  behold  from  Libya's  torrid  skies, 
who  built  the  great  wall  between  China  and  Against  her  throne  the  glorious  Vandal  rise." 
Tariary,  destroyed  all  the  books  and  learned        '^  In  the  MS. :  "  The  streams  of." 

men  of  that  empire.  —  Pope.  8  in  the  MS. :  **  Millions." 

*  The   Caliph,  Omar  I.   having  conquered        ^  In  the  MS. :  "God-like." 
■^Sypii  caused  his  General  to  burn  the  Ptole-      lo  in  the  MS  •    \  "  Virgilius." 

1  "  A  Varius." 


APPENDIX.  565 

See'st  thou  an  Isle^  by  Palmers,  Pilgrims  trod, 
Men  bearded,  bald,  cowPd,  uncowl'd,  shod,  unshod,^  100 

PeePd,  patched,  and  piebalPd,  linsey-woolsey  brothers 
Grave  mummers,  sleeveless  some,  and  shirtless  others. 
That  once  was  Britain  —  Happy!  had  she  seen 
No  fiercer  sons,  had"^  Easter  never  been.^ 
In  peace,  great  Goddess!  ever  be  ador'd ;  105 

How  keen  the  war,  if  dulness  draw  the  sword? 
Thus  visit  not  thy  own !  *  on  this  blest  age 
Oh  spread  thy  Influence,  but  restrain  thy  Rage! 

And  see  my  son,  the  hour  is  on  its  way 
That  lifts  our  Goddess  to  imperial  sway :  ^  ..q 

This  fav'rite  Isle,  long  severM  from  her  reign, 
Dove-like,  she  gathers  to  her  wings  again. 
Now  look  thro'  Fate!  behold  the  scene  she  draws! 
What  aids,  what  armies,  to  assert  her  cause! 
See  all  her  progeny,  illustrious  sight!  1 15 

Behold,  and  count  them  ^  as  they  rise  to  light : 
As  Berecynthia^  while  her  offspring  vye 
In  homage,  to  the  mother  of  the  sky. 
Surveys  around  her  in  the  blest  abode 

A  hundred  sons,  and  ev'ry  son  a  God.  1 20 

Not  with  less  glory  ^  mighty  Dulness  crown'd, 
Shall  take  thro'  Grtibstreet  her  triumphant  round, 
And  all  Parnassus  glancing  o'er  at  once. 
Behold  a  hundred  sons,  and  each  a  dunce. 

Mark  first  the  youth  who  takes  the  foremost  place  125 

And  thrusts  his  person  fiill  into  your  face. 
With  all  thy  Father's  virtues  blest,  be  born! 
And  a  new  C r  shall  the  stage  adorn. 

See  yet  a  younger,  by  his  blushes  known, 
And  modest  as  the  maid  who  sips  alone.  130 

From  the  strong  fate  of  drams  if  thou  get  fi-ee, 
Another  Durfey,  *  *  *  shall  sing  in  thee. 
For  thee  each  Ale-house,  and  each  Gill-house  mourn, 
And  answ'ring  Gin-shops  sowrer  sights  return. 

Behold  yon  pair,  in  strict  embraces  join'd ;  135 

How  like  their  manners,  and  how  like  their  mind! 

1  In  the  MS.:  «  In  the  MS  : 

"  Behold  yon  neighbouring  isle,  all  over  trod,  **  The  hour,  my  son,  already  wings  its  way,  i 

In  tracks  of  pilgrimage  by  feet  unshod."  Here,  once  more,  son,  but  in  a  milder  way,   ) 

2  Wars  in  England  anciently,  about  the  right  The  goddess  meditates  imperial  sway, 
time  of  celebrating  Easter.  —  Pope.  The  time  revolving  ripening  Fates  decree, 

*  In  the  MS. :  Much  from  her  sons  she  hopes,  and  much  from 
"  Almighty  Dulness,  what  a  sea  of  blood  thee." 

For  early  Easter,  or  a  stick  of  wood."  ^  In  the  MS. :  "  In  Nature's  order." 

*  In  the  MS.:  7  in  the  MS.:  *' Pleased  Cybele." 

"Nor  visit  thus  thine  own."  ^jntheMS. :  "Triumph." 


566  APPENDIX. 

Fam'd  for  good  nature,  B ^  and  for  truth, 

D ^  for  pious  passion  to  the  youth. 

Equal  in  wit,  and  equally  polite, 

Shall  this  a  Pasquin^  that  a  Grumbler  write ;  140 

Like  are  their  merits,  like  rewards  they  share, 

That  shines  a  Consul,  this  Commissioner. 

Ah  D ,  G 3  ah!  what  ill-starr'd  rage 

Divides  a  friendship  long  confirmed  by  age  ? 

Blockheads  with  reason  wicked  wits  abhor,  145 

But  fool  with  fool  is  barb'rous,  civil  war. 

Embrace,  embrace,  my  Sons!  be  foes  no  more! 

Nor  glad  vile  Poets  with  true  Criticks'  gore. 

See  next  two  slip-shod  Miues  traipse  along, 
In  lofty  madness  meditating  song,*  1 50 

With  tresses  staring  from  poetic  dreams. 
And  never  washed,  but  in  Castalid's  streams. 

H and  T ,^  glories  of  their  race ! 

Lo  H ck's^  fierce,  and  M 's'^  rueful  face! 

W n^  the  scourge  ^  of  Scripture,  mark  with  awe!  155 

And  mighty  y b^  Blunderbus  of  Law! 

Lo  thousand  thousand,  ev'ry  nameless  name, 

All  crowd,  who  foremost  shall  be  damn'd  to  fame ; 

How  proud !  how  pale !  how  earnest  all  appear! 

How  rhymes  eternal  gingle  in  their  ear!  160 

Pass  these  to  nobler  sights  :  Lo  H—  stands 
Tuning  his  voice,  and  balancing  his  hands,^*^ 
How  honeyM  nonsense  trickles  from  his  tongue! 
How  sweet  the  periods,  neither  said  nor  sung! 
Still  break  the  benches,  H —  with  thy  strain,  165 

While  K ,  Br ,  W ^^  preach  in  vain 

Round  him,  each  Science  by  its  modern  type 

Stands  known ;  Divinity  with  box  and  pipe. 

And  proud  Philosophy  with  breeches  tore, 

And  English  Music k  with  a  dismal  score  :  ^^  1 70 

While  happier  Hisfry  with  her  comrade  Ale^ 

Sooths  the  sad  series  of  her  tedious  tale.^^ 

1  In  the  MS.:  "Burnet."  lo  In  the  MS.: 

2  In  the  MS. :  **  Ducket.*  **  But  lo,  amidst  yon  crowd  where  Henley  stands, 

3  In  the  MS.:  "  Ah  Dennis,  Gildon."  And  tunes  his  voice,  and  balances  his  hands." 

4  In  the  MS. :  "  Perhaps     '*  Kennet,   Bramston,  Warren." 

"  See  Fix  and  slip-shod  W traipse  along,  In  the  edition  of  1736:    "Kennet,  Hare,  and 

With  heads  unpinned  and  meditating  song."  Gibson."     In  the  edition  of  1743:   "Sherlock, 

5  In    the    MS.:     "  Hey  wood    and   T ;"   Hare,  and  Gibson." 

doubtless  Thomas,  the  Corinna  of  Book  ii.     In        12  jn  the  MS. : 

1729:  "  Heywood,  Centlivre."  **  Music  with  crotchets  and  a  tedious  score." 

~      "Horneck."  i3  in  the  MS.: 

"  Mitchell."  "  More  happy  History  with  her  pots  of  ale, 

"  Dull  Woolston,  scourge."  Consoles  K     ^^^  \ict\  ^°°^  disastrous  \^^^  »» 

"  Jacob."     In  edition  of  1729,  Relieves  f  1  melancholy        i 

the  couplet  was  altered  to  the  present  reading. 


6  In  the  MS, 

7  In  the  MS. 

8  In  the  MS. 

9  In  the  MS. 


APPENDIX,  567 

Fast  by,  in  darkness  palpable  inshrin'd 
IV— Sy  B — r,  M—n^  all  the  poring  kind, 

A  lumberhouse  of  Books  in  every  head,  175 

Are  ever  reading,  and  are  never  read. 

But  who  is  he,  in  closet  close  y-pent, 
With  visage  from  his  shelves  with  dust  besprent? 
Right  well  mine  eyes  arede  that  myster  wight, 
That  wonnes  in  haulkes  and  hemes,  and  H —  he  hight.         1 80 
To  future  ages  may  thy  dulness  last, 
As  thou  preserv'st  the  dulness  of  the  past! 

But  oh!  what  scenes,  what  miracles  behind? 
Now  stretch  thy  view,  and  open  all  thy  mind. 

He  look'd,  and  saw  a  sable  seer  2  arise,  185 

Swift  to  whose  hand  a  winged  volume  flies. 
All  sudden,  gorgons  hiss,  and  dragons  glare, 
And  ten-horn'd  fiends,  and  giants,  threaten  war. 
Hell  rises,  heav'n  descends,  to  dance  on  earth : 
Gods,  monsters,  furies,  musick,  rage  and  mirth ;  I90 

A  fire,  a  jig,  a  battel,  and  a  ball, 
'Till  one  wide  conflagration  swallows  all. 

Then  a  new  world  to  nature's  laws  unknown, 
Refulgent  rises,  with  a  heav'n  its  own : 

Another  Cynthia  her  new  journey  runs,  I95 

And  other  planets  circle  other  suns : 
The  forests  dance,  the  rivers  upward  rise, 
Whales  sport  in  woods,  and  dolphins  in  the  skies ; 
And  last,  to  give  the  whole  creation  grace, 
Lo!  one  vast  .^^  produces  human  race.  200 

Silent  the  monarch  gaz'd ;  ^  yet  ask'd  in  thought 
What  God  or  Daemon  all  these  wonders  wrought  ? 
To  whom  the  Sire :  In  yonder  cloud,  behold. 
Whose  sarcenet  skirts  are  edg'd  with  flamy  gold, 
A  godlike  youth  :  See  Jove's  own  bolts  he  flings,  205 

Rolls  the  loud  thunder,  and  the  lightening  wings! 
Angel  of  Dulness^  sent  to  scatter  round 
Her  magic  charms  on  all  unclassic  ground : 
Yon  stars,  yon  suns,  he  rears  at  pleasure  higher, 
Illumes  their  light,  and  sets  their  flames  on  fire.*  210 

Immortal  R ch !  how  calm  he  sits  at  ease. 

Mid  snows  of  paper,  and  fierce  hail  of  pease? 
And  proud  his  mistress'  orders  to  perform. 
Rides  in  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm. 

*  Perhaps  "  Watts,  Baker,  Milboum."  *  After  this  verse  in  the  MS. : 

*  In  1729:  **  A  sable  sorcerer."  "  His  lightnings  flash,  his  mimic  thunders  roll, 

*  In  the  MS. ;    "  No  word  the  king  could  Like  Jove's  own  delegate  from  bowl  to  bowl.** 
speak." 


568  APPENDIX. 

But  lo!  to  dark  encounter  in  mid  air^  215 

New  wizards  rise  :  here  B th^  and  C r  there. 

B th  in  his  cloudy  tabernacle  shrin'd, 

On  grinning  dragons  C r  mounts  the  wind : 

Dire  is  the  conflict,  dismal  is  the  din, 

Here  shouts  all  Drury,  there  all  Lincoln' s-Inn ;  220 

Contending  Theatres  our  empire  raise, 

Alike  their  labours,  and  alike  their  praise. 

And  are  these  wonders,  Son,  to  thee  unknown? 
Unknown  to  thee  ?  These  wonders  are  thy  own. 
These  Fate  reserved  to  grace  thy  reign  divine,  225 

Foreseen  by  me,  but  ah!  withheld  from  mine. 
In  Lud'^s  old  walls  tho'  long  I  ruPd  renown'd, 
Far  as  loud  Bow's  stupendous  bells  resound ; 
Tho'  my  own  Aldermen  conferrM  my  bays, 
To  me  committing  their  eternal  ^  praise,  230 

Their  full-fed  Heroes,  their  pacific  May'rs, 
Their  annual  trophies,  and  their  monthly  wars : 
Tho'  ^  long  my  Party  built  on  me  their  hopes, 
For  writing  Pamphlets,  and  for  roasting  Popes 
(Different  our  parties,  but  with  equal  grace  235 

Our  Goddess  smiles  on  Whig  and  Tory  race, 
'T  is  the  same  rope  at  several  ends  they  twist, 
To  Dulness^  Ridpath  is  as  dear  as  Misf) . 
Yet  lo!  in  me  what  Authors  have  to  brag  on! 
Reduced  at  last  to  hiss  in  my  own  dragon.  240 

Avert  it,  heav'n!  that  thou  or  C r  e'er 

Should  wag  two  serpent  tails  in  Smithfield  fair. 

Like  the  vile  straw  that 's  blown  about  the  streets, 

The  needy  Poet  sticks  to  all  he  meets, 

Coach'd,  carted,  trod  upon,  now  loose,  now  fast,  245 

In  the  Dog's  tail  his  progress  ends  at  last. 

Happier  thy  fortunes !  like  a  rolling  stone 

Thy  giddy  dulness  still  shall  lumber  on. 

Safe  in  its  heaviness,  can  never  stray. 

And  licks  up  every  blockhead  in  the  way.  250 

Thy  dragons  *  *  and  *  *  *  shall  taste. 

And  from  each  show  rise  duller  than  the  last : 

'Till  rais'd  from  Booths  to  Theatre,  to  Court, 

Her  seat  imperial  Dulness  shall  transport. 

1  In  the  MS.,  this  and  the  next  three  lines  He  was  employ 'd  to  hold  the  pen  in  the  Char- 

stand:  acier  of  a  popish  successor ^  but    afterwards 

**  See  opposite,  with  Gibber  at  his  side,  printed  his  Narrative  on  the  contrary  side. 
Booth,  in  his  cloudy  tabernacle  ride;  He  managed  the  ceremony  and  pageants  at 

On  flaming  dragons  in  the  fields  of  air,  the  burning  of  a  famous  Pope^  and  was  at  length 

Seer  wars  with   seer  here,   Rich    and    Gibber  employed  in  making  the  machinery  at  Bartholo- 

therc."  meiv  fair,  where  in  his  old  age  he  acted  in  a 

'  In  the  MS. :  "  Immortal."  dragon  of  leather  of  his  own  invention.  —  Pope. 

*  Settle  was  once  famous   for  party  papers,        *  In  MS. : 

but  very  uncertain   in  his  political   principles.  "Peers  and  Potentates,"  or,  **  Up — and  L — ." 


APPENDIX,  569 

(Already,  Opera  prepares  the  way,  '  255 

The  sure  fore-runner  of  her  gentle  sway.) 

To  aid  her  cause,  if  heav'n  thou  canst  not  bend, 

Hell  thou  shalt  move  ;  for  Faustiis  is  thy  friend : 

Pluto  with  Cato  thou  for  her  shalt  join, 

And  link  the  Mourning-Bride  to  Proserpine.  260 

Grubstreet !  thy  fall  should  men  and  Gods  conspire^ 

Thy  stage  shall  stand,  ensure  it  but  from  Fire. 

Another  ^schylus  appears !  prepare 

For  new^  Abortions,  all  ye  pregnant  fair! 

In  flames  like  Semele'^s  be  brought  to  bed,  265 

While  opening  Hell  spouts  wild-fire  at  your  head. 

Now  Bavius  take  the  poppy  from  thy  brow. 
And  place  it  here  !  here  all  ye  Heroes  bow! 
This,  this  is  He,  foretold  by  ancient  rhymes, 
Th'  Augustus^  born  to  bring  Saturnian  times!  270 

Beneath  his  reign,  shall  E n  wear  the  bays, 

C r  preside.  Lord  Chancellor  of  Plays, 

B sole  judge  of  Architecture  sit, 

And  A — e  P—s  be  preferr'd  for  Wit! 

I  see  th'  unfinished  Dormitory  wall!  275 

I  see  the  Savoy  totter  to  her  fall! 

The  sons  of  /sis  reel!  the  towns-men  sport; 

And  Alma  Mater  all  dissolv'd  in  Port  I 

Then,  when  these  signs  declare  the  mighty  Year, 
When  the  dull  Stars  roll  round,  and  re-appear ;  280 

Let  there  be  darkness  I  (the  dread  powV  shall  say) 
All  shall  be  darkness,  as  it  ne'er  were  Day ; 
To  their  first  Chaos  Wit's  vain  works  shall  fall, 
And  universal  Dulness  cover  all! 

No  more  the  Monarch  could  such  raptures  bear;  285 

He  wak'd,  and  all  the  Vision  mix'd  with  air. 

1  It  is  reported  of  ^schylus  that  when  his    into  fits,  and  the  bigbelly'd  women  miscarry'd. 

Tragedy  of  the  Eumenides  was  acted,  the  audi-     T d  is  translating  this  Author,  —  Pops. 

ence  were  so  terrified    that   the  children  fell 


FINIS. 


INDEX  TO   FIRST   LINES. 


A  Bishop,  by  his  neighbours  hated,  521. 
Again?  new  Tumults  in  my  breast?  458. 
A  gold  watch  found  on  cinder  whore,  517. 
Ah,   friend!    'tis   true  — this   truth  you   lovers 

know,  506. 
All  hail,  once  pleasing,  once  inspiring  shade! 

491. 
A  pleasing  Form ;  a  firm,  yet  cautious  Mind,  470. 
A  Shepherd's  Boy  (he  seeks  no  better  name), 

14. 
A  Soul  as  full  of  Worth,  as  void  of  Pride,  461. 
As  when  that  Hero,  who  in  each  Campaign,  484. 
At  length,  my  Friend  (while  Time  wkh  still 

career,  479. 
Authors  are  judg'd  by  strange  capricious  Rules, 

483. 
Authors  the  world  and  their  dull  brains  have 

traced,  518. 
Awake,  my  St.  John!  leave  all  meaner  things, 

194. 
*'  A  wood!  "  quoth  Lewis,  and  with  that,  508. 

Begone,  ye  Critics,  and  restrain  your  spite,  478. 
Behold !  ambitious  of  the  British  bays,  518. 
Behold  the  woes  of  matrimonial  life,  146. 
Beneath  the  shade  a  spreading  Beech  displays, 

17- 
Book  and  the  man  I  sing,  the  first  who  brings, 

543. 
But  in  her  Temple's  last  recess  enclos'd,  400. 

Celia,  we  know,  is  sixty-five,  504. 

Close  to  the  best  known  Author,  Umbra  sits, 

486. 
Come,  fill  the  South  Sea  goblet  full,  508. 
"  Come  gentle  Air!  "  th'  iEolian  shepherd  said, 

182. 

Dear  Col'nel  Cobham's  and  your  country's 
Friend!  323, 

Pear,  damn'd  distracting  town,  farewell !  496. 

Descend,  ye  Pine !  descend  and  sing,  40. 

Did  Milton's  prose,  O  Charles,  thy  death  de- 
fend? 516. 

Dorset,  the  Grace  of  the  Courts,  the  Muses' 
Pride,  469. 

Fain  would  my  Muse  the  flow'ry  Treasures  sing, 
182. 


Fair  Charmer,  cease,  nor  make  your  voice's 

prize,  182. 
Father  of  All !  in  ev'ry  Age,  230. 
Few  words  are  best;  I  wish  you  well,  506. 
First  in  these  fields  I  try  the  sylvan  strains,  10. 
Flutt'ring  spread  thy  purple  Pinions,  494. 
Fraternal  Rage  the  guilty  Thebes  alarms,  156. 

Gen'rous,  gay,  and  gallant  nation,  505. 

Goddess  of  woods,  tremendous  in  the  chase,  520. 

Go !  fair  Example  of  untainted  youth,  472. 

Great  G — ,  such  servants  since  thou  well  can'st 
lack,  518. 

Grown  old  in  Rhyme,  't  were  barbarous  to  dis- 
card, 484. 

Happy  the  man  whose  wish  and  care,  46. 

Here  Francis  C —  lies.  Be  civil,  481. 

Here  lies  what  had  nor  birth,  nor  shape,  nor 

fame,  517. 
Here  rests  a  Woman,  good  without  pretence, 

472. 
Here,  shunning  idleness  at  once  and  praise,  518. 
Here,  stopt  by  hasty  death,  Alexis  lies,  502. 
Here  then  we  rest:  The  Universal  Cause,  210. 
Here,  Withers,    rest!    thou    bravest,    gentlest 

mind,  473. 
Heroes,  and  kings !  your  distance  keep,  476. 
High  on  a  gorgeous  seat,  that  far  outshone,  385. 
How  much,  egregious  Moore,  are  we,  487. 

I  am  his  Highness'  dog  at  Kew,  505. 

If  modest  Youth,  with  cool  Reflection  crown'd, 

476. 
I  know  the  thing  that 's  most  uncommon,  495. 
In  amaze,  510. 
In  beauty,  or  wit,  501. 
In  ev'ry  Town,  where  Thamis  rolls  his  Tyde, 

180. 
In  that  soft  season,  when  descending  show'rs, 

114. 
In  these  deep  solitudes  and  awful  cells,  105. 
In  these  gay  thoughts  the  Loves  and  Graces 

shine,  464. 
In  vain  you  boast  Poetic  Names  of  yore,  481. 
I  've  often  wish'd  that  I  had  clear,  453. 
I  was  brought  from  Chelsea  last  year,  507, 


Jonathan  Swift,  5x6^ 


571 


572 


INDEX    TO  FIRST  LINES- 


Kneller,  by  Heav'n,  and  not  a  Master,  taught, 

473. 
Know  then  thyself,  presume  not  God  to  scan, 
202. 

Lest  you  should  think  that  verse  should  die,  459. 

Muse,  'tis  enough;  at  length  thy  labour  ends, 

480. 
My  Lord  complains  that  Pope,  s'ark  mad  with 

gardens,  509.  ' 

Nature  and  Nature's  Laws  lay  hid  in  Night,  475. 
Nothing  so  true  as  what  you  once  let  fall,  240. 
'*  Not  to  admire,  is  all  the  Art  I  know,  306. 
Not  twice  a  twelvemonth  you  appear  in  Print, 

342. 
Now  Europe 's  balanced,  neither  Side  prevails, 

481. 

Of  gentle  Philips  will  I  ever  sing,  490, 

Of  Manners  gentle,  of  Affections  mild,  474. 

Oh  be  thou  blest  with  all  that  Heav'n  can  send, 

491. 
Oh  Happiness !  our  being's  end  and  aim !  219. 
Oh  Tyrant  Love !  hast  thou  possest,  45. 
Once  in  his  life  M— re  judges  right,  517. 
Once  (says  an  Author;  where,  I  need  not  say), 

508. 
O  wretched  B — !  jealous  now  of  all,  523. 
Ozell,  at  Sanger's  call,  invoked  his  Muse,  490. 

Pallas  grew  vapourish  once,  and  odd,  503. 
Parson,  these  things  in  thy  possessing,  187. 
Peace,  flattering  Bishop !  lying  Dean !  504. 
Phryne  had  talents  for  mankind,  186. 
Prodigious  this!  the  Frail  — one    of  our  Play, 
97- 

Resign'd  to  live,  preparM  to  die,  520. 

Say,  lovely  youth,  that  dost  my  heart  command, 

99. 
See,  sir,  here's  the  grand  approach,  507. 
See  the  wild  waste  of  all-devouring  years !  269. 
She  said,  and  for  her  lost  Galanthis  sighs,  174. 
Should  D — s  print,  how  once  you  robb'd  your 

brother,  516. 
Shut,  shut  the  door,  good  John!  fatigu'd,  I  said, 

275- 
Silence !  coeval  with  Eternity,  184. 
Since  my  old  friend  is  grown  so  great,  482. 
S  ->  bright  is  thy  Beauty,  so  charming  thy  Song, 

480. 
Soon  as  Glumdalclitch  miss'd  her  pleasing  care, 

510. 
Speak,  Gracious  Lord,  oh,  speak;  thy  Servant 

hears,  477. 


Statesman,  yet  Friend  to  Truth !  of  Soul  smcere, 

471- 
St.  John,  whose  love  indulg'd  my  labours  past, 

301* 
Strange !  all  this  Difference  should  be,  480. 
Such  were  the  notes  thy  once  lov'd  Poet  sung, 

460. 
Sylvia,  my  heart  in  wondrous  wise  alarmed,  526. 

Tell,  if  you  can,  which  did  the  worse,  518. 
The  Basset-Table  spread,  the  Tallier  come,  497. 
The  fair  Pomona  flourish'd  in  his  reign,  176. 
The  Mighty  Mother,  and  her  Son,  who  brings, 

371- 
The  playful  smiles  around  the  dimpled  mouth, 

502. 
There  are,  (I  scarce  can  think  it,  but  am  told,) 

291. 
There  liv'd  in  Lombardy,  as  authors  write,  129. 
This  modest  Stone,  what  few  vain  Marbles  can, 

474. 
This  verse  be  thine,  my  friend,  nor  thou  refuse, 

462. 
Tho'  Artemisia  talks,  by  fits,  186. 
Thou  art  my  God,  sole  object  of  my  love,  521. 
Thou  who  shalt  stop,  where  Thames'  translucent 

wave,  503. 
Thy  forests,  Windsor!  and  thy  green  retreats,  29. 
Thy  relics,  Rowe,  to  this  fair  Urn  we  trust,  471. 
Thyrsis,  the  music  of  that  murm'ring  spring,  20. 
'Tis  all  a  Libel  — Paxton  (Sir)  will  say,  347. 
'Tis  hard  to  say,  if  greater  want  of  skill,  51. 
'Tis  strange,  the  Miser  should  his  cares  employ, 

262. 
'Tis  true,  my  Lord,  I  gave  my  word,  451. 
Tom  Wood  of  Chiswick,  deep  divine,  520. 
To  one  fair  lady  out  of  Court,  492. 
To  thee,  we  wretches  of  the  Houyhnhnm  band, 

512. 
To  this  sad  shrine,  whoe'er  thou  art !  draw  near, 

470. 
To  wake  the  soul  by  tender  strokes  of  art,  96. 

Under  this  Marble,  or  under  this  Sill,  476. 

Vital  spark  of  heav'nly  flame!  47. 

Welcome,  thrice  welcome,  to  thy  native  place! 

513- 
Well,  -^  't  be  my  time  to  quit  the  stage,  335. 
Well  then,  poor  G—  lies  under  Ground!  480. 
Wesley,  if  Wesley  'tis  they  mean,  519. 
What  and  how  great  the  Virtue  and  the  Art,  296. 
What  beck'ning    ghost,   along    the    moonlight 

shade,  93. 
What  dire  offence  from  am'rous  causes  springs, 

74.  529- 
What  god,  what  genius,  did  the  pencil  move,  482. 


INDEX   TO  FIRST  LINES. 


573 


What  is  Prudery  ?  494. 

What  makes  you  write  at  this  odd  rate?  517. 

What's  Fame  with  Men,  by  Custom  of   the 

Nation,  481. 
Whence  deathless  Kit-Cat  took  its  Name,  482. 
When  Eastern  lovers  feed  the  fun'ral  fire,  503. 
When  other  fair  ones  to  the  shades  go  down,  504. 
When  simple  Macer,  now  of  high  renown,  485. 
When  wise  Ulysses,  from  his  native  coast,  479. 
While  Celia's  Tears  make  sorrow  bright,  183. 
While  you,  great  Patron  of  Mankind !  sustain, 

3"- 
Who  shall  decide,  when  Doctors  disagree,  249. 
With  no  poetic  ardour  fir'd,  519. 
With  scornful  mien,  and  various  toss  of  air,  504. 
Women  ben  full  of  Ragerie,  179. 


Ye  Lords  and  Commons,  Men  of  Wit,  488. 
Ye  Nymphs  of  Solyma !  begin  the  song,  25. 
Ye  shades,  where  sacred  truth  is  sought,  44. 
Yes,  I  beheld  th'  Athenian  Queen,  467, 
Yes;    thank   my   stars!    as   early   as   I   knew, 

332. 
Yes!  'tis  the  time,  (I  cried,)  impose  the  chain, 

509- 
Yes,  we  have  liv'd  —  one  pang,  and  then  we 

part!  475. 
Yes,  you  despise  the  man   to' Books  confin'd, 

233- 
Yet,  yet  a  moment,  one  dim  Ray  of  Light, 

414. 
You  beat  your  Pate,  and  fslncy  Wit  will  come, 

480. 


14  DAY  USE 

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